Collected Drabbles
For stalinglim. Rating: G. Character: Jason Todd. Prompt: Full
Bowls were never completely full. Even at the soup kitchen on West and Hamilton, the one that had milk four days a week, bowls were half empty. You got two scoops of stew, that was the rule. Two scoops, and there was never enough for seconds.
But Mr. Pennyworth didn't seem to know that. Jason pushed his empty bowl away with a satisfied sigh and resolved never to tell him.
For dungeonwriter. Rating: G. Character: Barbara Gordon. Prompt: Waiting
Barbara remembers being Batgirl. She knows the terror of swinging into complete unknown and she has fought her share of things that go bump in the night. She has looked up the barrel of more super weapons than she cares to count and she knows the exact sound that a spine makes when it shatters. She still hears it in dreams.
But Batgirl never sent her friends into battle. She never sat cozy and safe with action figures and a chipped coffee mug while people she loved were fighting for their lives. She never lost visuals when the camera got blown up and she never had to wait, white-knuckled, for next sound from the com.
It's Oracle who knows the horror of the waiting.
For blackphoenix. Rating: G. Characters: Dick and Tim. Prompt: Strawberries and chocolate.
Tim arranged his strawberries across his plate in a neat four by four grid. He selected the berry in the top left corner, dipped precisely half of the fruit (by mass) into the melted chocolate, and set it in the upper left corner of a sheet of waxed paper.
Dick watched from the doorway with dawning horror. He shook off his shocked paralysis in time to snatch that berry from Tim's hand and cradle it protectively. "What are you doing to these poor strawberries?"
Tim looked at him with a terribly patient expression. "I'm dipping them. In chocolate," he said very clearly, as though he were speaking to slow child.
Dick waved his arms. "No, no, no! You're killing their souls."
Tim just looked at him. Pointedly. And dipped the next berry.
Dick rescued that one too and popped it in his mouth. "Strawberries," he pontificated with his mouth full, "are messy. Melted chocolate is messy. They burst in your mouth and send juice running down your chin."
Tim raised an eyebrow and handed him a paper napkin. Dick shook it at him as he spoke. "Strawberries do not sit in neat rows."
When Tim opened his mouth to reply, Dick shoved a strawberry between his lips and laughed as he sputtered and fumbled for a napkin. "Now you're getting it."
For darthbatgirl. Rating: PG-13. Characters: Dick/Roy/Tim. Prompt: music
"You're moving in with us, so you'll need to know a few rules."
Tim blinked at Roy rather hazily. He was still feeling warm and limp and slow, and he kept getting distracted by the flecks of gold in Roy's eyes. "I'm moving in?"
Dick made a contented noise into the crook of Tim's neck and reached around him to pull Roy closer. Tim suspected he was asleep. Roy used the tug as an excuse to squash Tim more firmly between him and Dick. " 'Course you're moving in, little bird. Now rules. First of all, you don't eat the grape popsicles. Those belong to Lian, and it'd be more than my life's worth to touch them."
Tim just watched Roy and let him speak. His bones were feeling kind of liquid, and shutting Roy up seemed like way too much effort.
"Second, Short Pants over there never gets to shower alone. Not if we can help it. Seriously."
Tim roused himself enough to raise an eyebrow.
Roy explained in a pained voice. "He sings. Bon Jovi. Off-key. At volume."
Dick's hand snaked passed Tim's chest to smack Roy. "Sheesh, you two. Ever heard of afterglow? I'm trying to bask, here."
For aravistarkheena. Rating: PG. Characters: Dick, Tim (or Dick/Tim, if you prefer). Prompt: Comfort
This isn't what Tim expected. He'd planned to sluice off the sweat as quickly as possible, maybe stretch some of the soreness out of his pecs, then to collapse onto something horizontal. He wasn't completely sure that he would recognize a bed, at this point. Or care if he did.
He's followed the plan, too. Or tried to. He'd stripped efficiently. He'd even gotten himself into the shower with the water on. There was another occupant, but he was familiar and not a threat, so Tim barely noticed him.
But then warm hands settled onto his shoulders and the plan went up in smoke. Dramatically. Tim isn't completely sure what he's supposed to be doing right now, but there's a warm chest pressed against his back, and warm lips brushingthe skin of his ear. Familiar voice. Dick. Tim's pretty sure that he's speaking. You know, shaping words with his voice and trying to convey meaning. But his hands are massaging the life out of Tim's muscles along with the pain, Tim's eyes are slipping closed, he's sagging against the chest, and sifting meaning from sounds feels like too much effort.
Dick's plans are better, anyway..
Bowls were never completely full. Even at the soup kitchen on West and Hamilton, the one that had milk four days a week, bowls were half empty. You got two scoops of stew, that was the rule. Two scoops, and there was never enough for seconds.
But Mr. Pennyworth didn't seem to know that. Jason pushed his empty bowl away with a satisfied sigh and resolved never to tell him.
For dungeonwriter. Rating: G. Character: Barbara Gordon. Prompt: Waiting
Barbara remembers being Batgirl. She knows the terror of swinging into complete unknown and she has fought her share of things that go bump in the night. She has looked up the barrel of more super weapons than she cares to count and she knows the exact sound that a spine makes when it shatters. She still hears it in dreams.
But Batgirl never sent her friends into battle. She never sat cozy and safe with action figures and a chipped coffee mug while people she loved were fighting for their lives. She never lost visuals when the camera got blown up and she never had to wait, white-knuckled, for next sound from the com.
It's Oracle who knows the horror of the waiting.
For blackphoenix. Rating: G. Characters: Dick and Tim. Prompt: Strawberries and chocolate.
Tim arranged his strawberries across his plate in a neat four by four grid. He selected the berry in the top left corner, dipped precisely half of the fruit (by mass) into the melted chocolate, and set it in the upper left corner of a sheet of waxed paper.
Dick watched from the doorway with dawning horror. He shook off his shocked paralysis in time to snatch that berry from Tim's hand and cradle it protectively. "What are you doing to these poor strawberries?"
Tim looked at him with a terribly patient expression. "I'm dipping them. In chocolate," he said very clearly, as though he were speaking to slow child.
Dick waved his arms. "No, no, no! You're killing their souls."
Tim just looked at him. Pointedly. And dipped the next berry.
Dick rescued that one too and popped it in his mouth. "Strawberries," he pontificated with his mouth full, "are messy. Melted chocolate is messy. They burst in your mouth and send juice running down your chin."
Tim raised an eyebrow and handed him a paper napkin. Dick shook it at him as he spoke. "Strawberries do not sit in neat rows."
When Tim opened his mouth to reply, Dick shoved a strawberry between his lips and laughed as he sputtered and fumbled for a napkin. "Now you're getting it."
For darthbatgirl. Rating: PG-13. Characters: Dick/Roy/Tim. Prompt: music
"You're moving in with us, so you'll need to know a few rules."
Tim blinked at Roy rather hazily. He was still feeling warm and limp and slow, and he kept getting distracted by the flecks of gold in Roy's eyes. "I'm moving in?"
Dick made a contented noise into the crook of Tim's neck and reached around him to pull Roy closer. Tim suspected he was asleep. Roy used the tug as an excuse to squash Tim more firmly between him and Dick. " 'Course you're moving in, little bird. Now rules. First of all, you don't eat the grape popsicles. Those belong to Lian, and it'd be more than my life's worth to touch them."
Tim just watched Roy and let him speak. His bones were feeling kind of liquid, and shutting Roy up seemed like way too much effort.
"Second, Short Pants over there never gets to shower alone. Not if we can help it. Seriously."
Tim roused himself enough to raise an eyebrow.
Roy explained in a pained voice. "He sings. Bon Jovi. Off-key. At volume."
Dick's hand snaked passed Tim's chest to smack Roy. "Sheesh, you two. Ever heard of afterglow? I'm trying to bask, here."
For aravistarkheena. Rating: PG. Characters: Dick, Tim (or Dick/Tim, if you prefer). Prompt: Comfort
This isn't what Tim expected. He'd planned to sluice off the sweat as quickly as possible, maybe stretch some of the soreness out of his pecs, then to collapse onto something horizontal. He wasn't completely sure that he would recognize a bed, at this point. Or care if he did.
He's followed the plan, too. Or tried to. He'd stripped efficiently. He'd even gotten himself into the shower with the water on. There was another occupant, but he was familiar and not a threat, so Tim barely noticed him.
But then warm hands settled onto his shoulders and the plan went up in smoke. Dramatically. Tim isn't completely sure what he's supposed to be doing right now, but there's a warm chest pressed against his back, and warm lips brushingthe skin of his ear. Familiar voice. Dick. Tim's pretty sure that he's speaking. You know, shaping words with his voice and trying to convey meaning. But his hands are massaging the life out of Tim's muscles along with the pain, Tim's eyes are slipping closed, he's sagging against the chest, and sifting meaning from sounds feels like too much effort.
Dick's plans are better, anyway..