3 Comment Ficlets: Various | DCU | Jason Todd | up to R | 1/1 ea.
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Various Jason Todd pairings and Jason gen
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks!
Author's Notes: Written for the last Quarterly Challenge at comment_fic.
Title | Character/Pairing | Rating | Word Count | Prompt(s) | Summary
Out Here on the Dance Floor | Jason/Tim | R | 104 w | For comment_fic: Jason/Tim, dancing; For 50_darkfics: Wicked | Two can play at this game.
When Tim turned, writhing with the beat, and ground back against him, pressing his ass to Jason's groin and tossing his head back against a shoulder, Jay couldn't help grabbing those tight little hips and rolling his own to even the score. If Tim wanted to be wicked, then turning the tables was fair play, after all. And who could possibly hear his Little Bird's frustrated whine beneath the pounding beat of the music in the club? Out here on the dance floor, anything went, and Jason was more than happy to play. Tim would just have to deal.
~*~*~*~
Here in This Room | Bruce, Jason | PG-13 | 717 w | For comment_fic Somehow Bruce finds out about Jason being alive and in a coma. These are his bedside confessions.; For hc_bingo: Amnesia; For kissbingo: Wild Card: Body: Forehead; For 50_darkfics: Sorrow | At Jason's bedside, Bruce agonizes over what's happened. Very AU. *passes out tissues*
The first glimpse of Jason's still form was almost more than Bruce could take. All the rage and pain and grief that had left him hollow for so long now suddenly threatened to spill over, the backs of his eyes pricking, stinging, hot, his throat nearly squeezed shut.
No. He couldn't lose it now. Not when he'd only just found his... his boy, his son. Alive.
For a while, he just sat there in the chair next to Jason's bed, watching him, afraid to touch, lest the dream dissolve and leave him awake and grieving all over again, but the ghosts of bruises long-faded begged to be soothed, the new scars from wounds he knew the Joker had inflicted demanded attention. He couldn't look away, couldn't not smooth a hand down the side of Jason's face, fingers tracing those scars.
After a long time, he found his voice again, grief turned to regret, more powerful than any regret he'd ever felt.
“I'm so sorry, Jay,” he started, voice hoarse with so much pain. “You... you never should've been out there alone.”
Part of him hoped that Jason would hear him, and open his eyes, rip out the breathing tube, and start yelling-God, he missed his boy's fierce attitude!-but he knew better; even if Jay did hear him, the doctor had said he'd not likely wake up unless the damage to his brain healed, and even then it was a long shot, considering the severity of his injuries. He still had to hold onto hope, though. Couldn't let it go, not when the universe had seen fit to give him back his boy. It just couldn't end here.
But of course, there was no response, no other sound beyond the whirring click of the IV machine and the occasional beep of the vitals monitor, so Bruce grabbed Jason's hand where it rested at his side, and squeezed tightly. “I know it's my fault, what the Joker did to you. Should never have ignored you. Should never have brought you into this life in the first place. You deserve better than this, Jason. You deserve better than anything I could ever give you, than what I did.... I-”
His throat threatening to close up again, Bruce scrubbed his free hand over his face in a desperate attempt to stay the tears that clouded his vision. All this time, and Jason had been here, lying in a coma in this sterile, bland room while Bruce closed himself down further and further, too grieved to maintain a life beyond the Bat. In a way, he was grateful, not sure he could've handled knowing his boy was here. The grief over losing him had been crushing enough, but this... he wouldn't have left Jason's side for a second, and the hurt would've simply renewed itself every day that his boy didn't wake.
Maybe that was what hurt the most. He'd never have left Jason here like this. And he won't. Tomorrow, he'd have Jay moved back to the Manor and medical staff hired. He'd fly in the best doctors money could buy; anything to get his boy to wake up, to heal.
Leaning down, Bruce swept Jason's hair back and brushed a soft kiss over his forehead, offering a silent prayer. “Never let anything hurt you again, Jay,” he whispered. “We'll get you w-”
When eyelids fluttered then, slowly opening to reveal unfocused blue eyes, Bruce's heart jumped with rushing adrenaline as he sat up. “Jason?” he said tentatively, too scared to hope that his boy was really awake; too many stories existed where a comatose patient only woke up for a few moments, before falling under once more.
But those blue eyes blinked, focused slowly, Jason's chest rising and falling faster as he got his own breath, his pulse thrumming in his neck.
“Jason! Jason....” Bruce didn't even know where to begin; there was so much he wanted to say now. He-
Jay blinked again, his head tilting just barely to the side as he gazed up at Bruce, question and panic written all over his face before he jerked his hand away, started to fight against the tubes and wires, and Bruce knew at once, his blood running cold with horror at the instant realization.
His boy didn't recognize him.
This time, Bruce couldn't stop the tears as they fell.
~*~*~*~
Phoenix | Jason/Donna, Jason/Kyle | R | 256 w | For comment_fic: Didn't you die?; For 50_darkfics: Phoenix | Jason is really fucking tired of that question. Takes place during Countdown: The Search for Ray Palmer.
“Wait, didn't you die?”
Jason had expected that from the first dozen or so Titans and Leaguers he'd crossed paths with, and even a few of the usual Gotham rogues, but two years on and this far beyond the hell of his first few months back on the map, it was just fucking ridiculous. Especially from him.
Scowling, Jay grabbed Kyle by the shoulders and slammed him up against the nearest wall, moving in close before the Lantern could get his ring wrath on.
“Yeah, I fucking died,” he spat. “And came back. Phoenix from the ashes, hallelujah he is risen, Bat outta' hell, all that shit. Get with the program, glow boy.”
Kyle only smirked at him, glancing over Jay's shoulder at Donna. “You were right. It does piss him off.”
“What the-” was all Jason could get out, sputtering in rage as he looked back at his traveling companion.
Coming up behind him, Donna settled a hand on the small of his back and gave him a small smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now that you've got that out of your system, kiss and make up so we can get the show on the road. And Kyle, play nice.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Kyle laughed, and with Jay frozen in place in utter confusion and shock at Donna's machinations, the Lantern surged forward and caught his lips in a kiss, hot and fierce and wet.
His mind in overdrive and body on autopilot at the sudden stimulus, Jason couldn't figure out how the hell this happened, and really, really didn't fucking care.
~*~*~*~
Characters/Pairing: Various Jason Todd pairings and Jason gen
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks!
Author's Notes: Written for the last Quarterly Challenge at comment_fic.
Title | Character/Pairing | Rating | Word Count | Prompt(s) | Summary
Out Here on the Dance Floor | Jason/Tim | R | 104 w | For comment_fic: Jason/Tim, dancing; For 50_darkfics: Wicked | Two can play at this game.
When Tim turned, writhing with the beat, and ground back against him, pressing his ass to Jason's groin and tossing his head back against a shoulder, Jay couldn't help grabbing those tight little hips and rolling his own to even the score. If Tim wanted to be wicked, then turning the tables was fair play, after all. And who could possibly hear his Little Bird's frustrated whine beneath the pounding beat of the music in the club? Out here on the dance floor, anything went, and Jason was more than happy to play. Tim would just have to deal.
~*~*~*~
Here in This Room | Bruce, Jason | PG-13 | 717 w | For comment_fic Somehow Bruce finds out about Jason being alive and in a coma. These are his bedside confessions.; For hc_bingo: Amnesia; For kissbingo: Wild Card: Body: Forehead; For 50_darkfics: Sorrow | At Jason's bedside, Bruce agonizes over what's happened. Very AU. *passes out tissues*
The first glimpse of Jason's still form was almost more than Bruce could take. All the rage and pain and grief that had left him hollow for so long now suddenly threatened to spill over, the backs of his eyes pricking, stinging, hot, his throat nearly squeezed shut.
No. He couldn't lose it now. Not when he'd only just found his... his boy, his son. Alive.
For a while, he just sat there in the chair next to Jason's bed, watching him, afraid to touch, lest the dream dissolve and leave him awake and grieving all over again, but the ghosts of bruises long-faded begged to be soothed, the new scars from wounds he knew the Joker had inflicted demanded attention. He couldn't look away, couldn't not smooth a hand down the side of Jason's face, fingers tracing those scars.
After a long time, he found his voice again, grief turned to regret, more powerful than any regret he'd ever felt.
“I'm so sorry, Jay,” he started, voice hoarse with so much pain. “You... you never should've been out there alone.”
Part of him hoped that Jason would hear him, and open his eyes, rip out the breathing tube, and start yelling-God, he missed his boy's fierce attitude!-but he knew better; even if Jay did hear him, the doctor had said he'd not likely wake up unless the damage to his brain healed, and even then it was a long shot, considering the severity of his injuries. He still had to hold onto hope, though. Couldn't let it go, not when the universe had seen fit to give him back his boy. It just couldn't end here.
But of course, there was no response, no other sound beyond the whirring click of the IV machine and the occasional beep of the vitals monitor, so Bruce grabbed Jason's hand where it rested at his side, and squeezed tightly. “I know it's my fault, what the Joker did to you. Should never have ignored you. Should never have brought you into this life in the first place. You deserve better than this, Jason. You deserve better than anything I could ever give you, than what I did.... I-”
His throat threatening to close up again, Bruce scrubbed his free hand over his face in a desperate attempt to stay the tears that clouded his vision. All this time, and Jason had been here, lying in a coma in this sterile, bland room while Bruce closed himself down further and further, too grieved to maintain a life beyond the Bat. In a way, he was grateful, not sure he could've handled knowing his boy was here. The grief over losing him had been crushing enough, but this... he wouldn't have left Jason's side for a second, and the hurt would've simply renewed itself every day that his boy didn't wake.
Maybe that was what hurt the most. He'd never have left Jason here like this. And he won't. Tomorrow, he'd have Jay moved back to the Manor and medical staff hired. He'd fly in the best doctors money could buy; anything to get his boy to wake up, to heal.
Leaning down, Bruce swept Jason's hair back and brushed a soft kiss over his forehead, offering a silent prayer. “Never let anything hurt you again, Jay,” he whispered. “We'll get you w-”
When eyelids fluttered then, slowly opening to reveal unfocused blue eyes, Bruce's heart jumped with rushing adrenaline as he sat up. “Jason?” he said tentatively, too scared to hope that his boy was really awake; too many stories existed where a comatose patient only woke up for a few moments, before falling under once more.
But those blue eyes blinked, focused slowly, Jason's chest rising and falling faster as he got his own breath, his pulse thrumming in his neck.
“Jason! Jason....” Bruce didn't even know where to begin; there was so much he wanted to say now. He-
Jay blinked again, his head tilting just barely to the side as he gazed up at Bruce, question and panic written all over his face before he jerked his hand away, started to fight against the tubes and wires, and Bruce knew at once, his blood running cold with horror at the instant realization.
His boy didn't recognize him.
This time, Bruce couldn't stop the tears as they fell.
~*~*~*~
Phoenix | Jason/Donna, Jason/Kyle | R | 256 w | For comment_fic: Didn't you die?; For 50_darkfics: Phoenix | Jason is really fucking tired of that question. Takes place during Countdown: The Search for Ray Palmer.
“Wait, didn't you die?”
Jason had expected that from the first dozen or so Titans and Leaguers he'd crossed paths with, and even a few of the usual Gotham rogues, but two years on and this far beyond the hell of his first few months back on the map, it was just fucking ridiculous. Especially from him.
Scowling, Jay grabbed Kyle by the shoulders and slammed him up against the nearest wall, moving in close before the Lantern could get his ring wrath on.
“Yeah, I fucking died,” he spat. “And came back. Phoenix from the ashes, hallelujah he is risen, Bat outta' hell, all that shit. Get with the program, glow boy.”
Kyle only smirked at him, glancing over Jay's shoulder at Donna. “You were right. It does piss him off.”
“What the-” was all Jason could get out, sputtering in rage as he looked back at his traveling companion.
Coming up behind him, Donna settled a hand on the small of his back and gave him a small smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now that you've got that out of your system, kiss and make up so we can get the show on the road. And Kyle, play nice.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Kyle laughed, and with Jay frozen in place in utter confusion and shock at Donna's machinations, the Lantern surged forward and caught his lips in a kiss, hot and fierce and wet.
His mind in overdrive and body on autopilot at the sudden stimulus, Jason couldn't figure out how the hell this happened, and really, really didn't fucking care.
~*~*~*~