Should be sleeping/Made with Love/Alfred likes me better
Author: emocezi
Title: Should be sleeping/Made with Love/Alfred likes me better
Rating: PG/PG/PG
Wordcount: 324/322/456
Disclaimer: I do not own The Losers or Batman nor do I make any profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: Okay so, I know I said I wasn't going to write anymore, but my brain isn't wanting to work on anything else, and these just sort of happened and I'm not about to fight with what my brain wants to work on because that's how I get writers block.
Anywho, have three drabbles. Whoever is deciding to expand this 'verse into an actual fic, you can either use these or you can ignore them and make up your own canon, I have no qualms with either. Enjoy reading.
“I thought I told you to be in bed an hour ago.” Jensen winced, half shutting his laptop from habit and glancing up at his CO.
“I'm just going over something.”
“You've been up for seventy-two hours straight, what the hell is so important?” Clay didn't sound amused and the hacker chewed his bottom lip, trying to figure out an appropriate response that wouldn't end up with Cougar being sent in to collect him like an errant child. “Are you designing new plans for your Uncle, Jensen?”
“He's been fighting this new jackoff that calls himself Scarecrow, honestly what kind of a name is Scarecrow, it's not even scary, sounds like you could just light him on fire and roast marshmallows over him. Anyway he needs all the help he can get and he's funding this mission and I'm honestly not that tired and I can do this and he needs my help and why are you looking at me like that?”
“Jensen, take a breath.” The hacker dutifully closed his mouth and inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the amusement on Clay's face. “You've got twenty minutes and then I'm sending Roque in.”
“....I'll be good.” Jensen whimpered, making a mental note to save his work every five minutes in case the crazy man got knife happy with his hardware, again.
“One more thing. I don't care if Bruce Wayne is funding these missions. Man doesn't exist on caffeine alone. Next time Wayne asks you to build him a shiny new toy, try and do it on your own time.”
“Yes sir.”
“Are you pouting?”
“No sir.” Clay sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“This isn't a punishment, you need sleep Jensen. I can't have my tech support falling asleep when I need him the most.”
“Yes sir.” Clay huffed out a breath and stalked out of the tent, wondering how Jensen always made him feel like an overbearing parent.
“Who the fuck made these? They're fucking amazing. Who are you fucking Jensen and does she have a sister?” Roque moaned pornographically, stealing another Snickerdoodle from the care package the hacker had received a few hours before. Jensen snorted loudly from where he was sitting at a makeshift desk, composing a thank-you note.
“Cookies!!!” Pooch sounded like Christmas had come early, launching himself across the room and digging into the box. “Nice care package, Jolene never sends me cookies.” He stuffed an entire Snickerdoodle in his mouth and grinned at Clay who had just entered the room. “Jesen go' coo'ies”
“I can see that. Who are they from Jensen?” The hacker rolled his eyes at the unasked question. Are they safe.
“Alfred makes them. I used to bet these in poker games when I ran out of money.”
“Alfred?” Clay sounded dubious of the whole thing, not that Jensen blamed him. Anyone could have sent him a package claiming it was from Alfred. But only Alfred used stamps with bats on them, consistently. Fruit bats, fox-eared bats, vampire bats, all bats all the time. It was a running gag with the two of them.
"Yeah."
“I'm.....I'm eating cookies made from the hands of Alfred?” Pooch sounded in awe, as if he'd seen the image of Jesus form in the sky.
“The Pooch is starting to scare me with his freaky fan worship.” Jensen mumbled, scribbling his signature on the card and slipping it into an envelope. “Off to mail this. Cougs, if you keep them from eating all the cookies, I'll share the good stuff with you.” The sniper inclined his head and snatched the box from where Roque was about to grab another handful of Snickerdoodles.
“What's the good stuff? Jensen, what's the good stuff? Tell me, I need to know.” Pooch was up out of his seat in an instant, trailing after Jensen. “Has Bruce touched it? What about Superman? Have you met any of the JLA?”
“What the actual fuck?” Roque asked after a few moments of stunned silence.
“I don't even want to know.” Clay pinched the bridge of his nose and swiped the last cookie from Roque's hands.
“Master Jake, my boy, how have you been?” Alfred smiled, ushering in the hacker and his team. “Come in, come in. Master Bruce is out at the moment, but he should be in shortly.” The Butler nodded at the four other men who stood somewhat awkwardly in the huge foyer and tried not to look out of place.
“I bet you he's driving around looking for crimes to solve.” Pooch hissed at Roque who looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. Jensen rolled his eyes and toed off his shoes, stomping into the main room and flopping on the couch.
“It's the middle of the day, and you're not supposed to know that.” The hacker growled, running a hand though his hair and wondering if it was too early to bug Alfred for a snack.
“Are you hungry Master Jake?” Alfred asked, popping up in the way that always made Jensen think he was part ninja and part telepath.
“Man, how do you always know. Can I have a steak sandwich and fries?”
“Of course Master Jake. Would you like to accompany me to the kitchen?”
“Sure, you know I hate sitting out there, feels like a fucking museum.” Jake muttered, disappearing down the hall after the butler. The rest of the team shuffled their way awkwardly into the living room, tentatively sitting on the couch and wondering how Jensen seemed to fit in here seamlessly.
The door opened five minutes later and Bruce Wayne walked through the door, tapping on his BlackBerry and obviously distracted. He looked up at the men sitting on his couch and blinked.
“Colonel Clay?”
“Yes?”
“Where's Jake?”
“He's in the kitchen. Is there a problem? We can leave if there's a problem.” Clay rambled.
“No, no problem. He's mooching isn't he?” At that moment Jensen wandered back into the living room, his mouth full of sandwich. He nodded in the direction of his Uncle and flopped down beside Cougar who stole a fry and grinned at him.
“It's not mooching if Alfred likes me better.”
“He's my butler.”
“He likes me better.” Jensen grinned cheekily, propping his feet up on the coffee table and drawing a muted gasp of horror from Pooch.
“He does not.”
“Yes he does. ALFRED, DO YOU LIKE ME BETTER?”
“Of course Master Jake.” Alfred said, stepping into the main room and nodding at Bruce.
“Told you.”
“Alfred.” Bruce growled his eyes narrowing at Jensen's cheeky grin and Alfred's serene expression.
“Yes Master Bruce?”
“Stop liking him better.”
“Of course sir. How many will be joining us for dinner sir?”
“All of them I think.”
“Very good sir.”
Title: Should be sleeping/Made with Love/Alfred likes me better
Rating: PG/PG/PG
Wordcount: 324/322/456
Disclaimer: I do not own The Losers or Batman nor do I make any profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: Okay so, I know I said I wasn't going to write anymore, but my brain isn't wanting to work on anything else, and these just sort of happened and I'm not about to fight with what my brain wants to work on because that's how I get writers block.
Anywho, have three drabbles. Whoever is deciding to expand this 'verse into an actual fic, you can either use these or you can ignore them and make up your own canon, I have no qualms with either. Enjoy reading.
“I thought I told you to be in bed an hour ago.” Jensen winced, half shutting his laptop from habit and glancing up at his CO.
“I'm just going over something.”
“You've been up for seventy-two hours straight, what the hell is so important?” Clay didn't sound amused and the hacker chewed his bottom lip, trying to figure out an appropriate response that wouldn't end up with Cougar being sent in to collect him like an errant child. “Are you designing new plans for your Uncle, Jensen?”
“He's been fighting this new jackoff that calls himself Scarecrow, honestly what kind of a name is Scarecrow, it's not even scary, sounds like you could just light him on fire and roast marshmallows over him. Anyway he needs all the help he can get and he's funding this mission and I'm honestly not that tired and I can do this and he needs my help and why are you looking at me like that?”
“Jensen, take a breath.” The hacker dutifully closed his mouth and inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the amusement on Clay's face. “You've got twenty minutes and then I'm sending Roque in.”
“....I'll be good.” Jensen whimpered, making a mental note to save his work every five minutes in case the crazy man got knife happy with his hardware, again.
“One more thing. I don't care if Bruce Wayne is funding these missions. Man doesn't exist on caffeine alone. Next time Wayne asks you to build him a shiny new toy, try and do it on your own time.”
“Yes sir.”
“Are you pouting?”
“No sir.” Clay sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“This isn't a punishment, you need sleep Jensen. I can't have my tech support falling asleep when I need him the most.”
“Yes sir.” Clay huffed out a breath and stalked out of the tent, wondering how Jensen always made him feel like an overbearing parent.
“Who the fuck made these? They're fucking amazing. Who are you fucking Jensen and does she have a sister?” Roque moaned pornographically, stealing another Snickerdoodle from the care package the hacker had received a few hours before. Jensen snorted loudly from where he was sitting at a makeshift desk, composing a thank-you note.
“Cookies!!!” Pooch sounded like Christmas had come early, launching himself across the room and digging into the box. “Nice care package, Jolene never sends me cookies.” He stuffed an entire Snickerdoodle in his mouth and grinned at Clay who had just entered the room. “Jesen go' coo'ies”
“I can see that. Who are they from Jensen?” The hacker rolled his eyes at the unasked question. Are they safe.
“Alfred makes them. I used to bet these in poker games when I ran out of money.”
“Alfred?” Clay sounded dubious of the whole thing, not that Jensen blamed him. Anyone could have sent him a package claiming it was from Alfred. But only Alfred used stamps with bats on them, consistently. Fruit bats, fox-eared bats, vampire bats, all bats all the time. It was a running gag with the two of them.
"Yeah."
“I'm.....I'm eating cookies made from the hands of Alfred?” Pooch sounded in awe, as if he'd seen the image of Jesus form in the sky.
“The Pooch is starting to scare me with his freaky fan worship.” Jensen mumbled, scribbling his signature on the card and slipping it into an envelope. “Off to mail this. Cougs, if you keep them from eating all the cookies, I'll share the good stuff with you.” The sniper inclined his head and snatched the box from where Roque was about to grab another handful of Snickerdoodles.
“What's the good stuff? Jensen, what's the good stuff? Tell me, I need to know.” Pooch was up out of his seat in an instant, trailing after Jensen. “Has Bruce touched it? What about Superman? Have you met any of the JLA?”
“What the actual fuck?” Roque asked after a few moments of stunned silence.
“I don't even want to know.” Clay pinched the bridge of his nose and swiped the last cookie from Roque's hands.
“Master Jake, my boy, how have you been?” Alfred smiled, ushering in the hacker and his team. “Come in, come in. Master Bruce is out at the moment, but he should be in shortly.” The Butler nodded at the four other men who stood somewhat awkwardly in the huge foyer and tried not to look out of place.
“I bet you he's driving around looking for crimes to solve.” Pooch hissed at Roque who looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. Jensen rolled his eyes and toed off his shoes, stomping into the main room and flopping on the couch.
“It's the middle of the day, and you're not supposed to know that.” The hacker growled, running a hand though his hair and wondering if it was too early to bug Alfred for a snack.
“Are you hungry Master Jake?” Alfred asked, popping up in the way that always made Jensen think he was part ninja and part telepath.
“Man, how do you always know. Can I have a steak sandwich and fries?”
“Of course Master Jake. Would you like to accompany me to the kitchen?”
“Sure, you know I hate sitting out there, feels like a fucking museum.” Jake muttered, disappearing down the hall after the butler. The rest of the team shuffled their way awkwardly into the living room, tentatively sitting on the couch and wondering how Jensen seemed to fit in here seamlessly.
The door opened five minutes later and Bruce Wayne walked through the door, tapping on his BlackBerry and obviously distracted. He looked up at the men sitting on his couch and blinked.
“Colonel Clay?”
“Yes?”
“Where's Jake?”
“He's in the kitchen. Is there a problem? We can leave if there's a problem.” Clay rambled.
“No, no problem. He's mooching isn't he?” At that moment Jensen wandered back into the living room, his mouth full of sandwich. He nodded in the direction of his Uncle and flopped down beside Cougar who stole a fry and grinned at him.
“It's not mooching if Alfred likes me better.”
“He's my butler.”
“He likes me better.” Jensen grinned cheekily, propping his feet up on the coffee table and drawing a muted gasp of horror from Pooch.
“He does not.”
“Yes he does. ALFRED, DO YOU LIKE ME BETTER?”
“Of course Master Jake.” Alfred said, stepping into the main room and nodding at Bruce.
“Told you.”
“Alfred.” Bruce growled his eyes narrowing at Jensen's cheeky grin and Alfred's serene expression.
“Yes Master Bruce?”
“Stop liking him better.”
“Of course sir. How many will be joining us for dinner sir?”
“All of them I think.”
“Very good sir.”