Fic: (Un)Connected | DCU | Bruce/Jason | R | 1/1
Title: (Un)Connected
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Jason Todd
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,465
Prompt: For dcu_freeforall: Shower
Summary: Bruce starts to put a few things together about recent developments in Gotham.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Twenty-fifth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; follows (Un)Necessary (you might want to reread that one to refresh yourself, since it's been so long, and this one directly follows it [doh!]). Warning for the effects of a hard-core drug. It's great to be back to writing this 'verse! \O/
(Un)Connected
The drug isn't at all what Bruce had expected. Going over the data for the tenth time-it pays to be thorough, he reminds himself-he notes the markers present in the chemical breakdown. Hemoglobin. White blood cells. Platelets. All the things that comprise blood, but not.
They've been altered, in some fundamental way that's turned them into a hallucinogen. Something akin to PCP, but stronger, more addictive, and absolutely lethal in large doses.
His mind flashes back to the first tests he'd run on Tim, back when he'd first taken him in. A thorough exam to see just what was going on beneath the surface of the newborn vampire's skin, to find out what made him tick, to look for a way to feed him without raiding blood banks, to find a way to cure him of his affliction. Failed endeavors all.
Tim's blood looked nothing like this, and yet... exactly the same. As if... as if it were a first step toward turning his once-human blood into the substance he's currently studying.
The thought, and all its implications, is terrifying.
Entering calculations into a program, Bruce plugs in the data from Tim's tests alongside his present data. And waits.
The computer works quickly, illustrating the necessary steps to turn normally human blood markers into the drug, and beeps twice when it's finished.
The process is unmistakeable. And simple. A graduate chemistry student could've figured this out, given the right supplies and a few days to work.
Shit.
A frown moves over his face, and Bruce does the rest of the math in his head. With only a few ingredients, a pot, and a stove, any hack with the know-how could cook this drug. All he'd need was a willing donor.
And Arkham is just chock full of willing donors, with nearly half the population comprised of vamps that can't be held elsewhere.
Which means the drug is coming from Arkham. Or at least, the original supply is coming from Arkham. Either way, it means there are people behind the scenes there working to get this drug on the streets. Into the hands of the Clowns.
The Clowns.
Jesus. The Joker.
Of course.
~*~*~
An hour later, Bruce finds Jason curled up on the floor of the locker room, still covered in blood from the Clowns he took down earlier in the night. His eyes look glazed, shifted to their lupine yellow, and his teeth are bared in a grimace as he holds his knees and shivers, his tongue occasionally flicking out to swipe a little blood from his chin.
Panic lances through Bruce's chest as things click into place in his head. “Jason!” he shouts as he rushes to him, kneeling by his boy and lifting his head from the blood-streaked concrete floor. “Jason?”
Those glazed eyes turn up to him, a whimper escaping Jay's throat as his teeth grind together.
“Jason, listen to me,” Bruce commands, cradling his face with both hands, even as he knows it's a bad idea to even touch the blood of the Clowns. He can't not take the risk, not when his boy is in trouble. “You've been drugged. The Clowns were hopped up on modified vampire blood. Need to get this off of you now.”
A tiny flicker of recognition passes over Jason's eyes at that, and he whimpers again, his body shuddering.
“Come on,” Bruce says then, relieved that he at least got through to him a little, and with obvious effort after such a had night, he hauls Jason up and over his shoulder, carrying him into the showers, still mostly-dressed himself. Settling Jay against one tiled wall, he gets up to turn on as many shower heads as he can quickly, enough to make sure Jason gets drenched, and strips himself in a few quick motions, tossing his uniform and boots out toward the locker room.
Returning to his boy, he hefts him up again, maneuvering him under the spray, and washes as much blood off of his face as he can with one hand.
Jay whines, long and low, his eyes fluttering closed against the onslaught of water, and he shakes his head in a dog-like manner, backing away from Bruce's hand as he sputters and breathes deeply.
“There you go. Come on,” Bruce prods him again. “Fight it off, Jason. It's the drug. It's damn potent stuff, and you have to fight it!”
Hefting him into an easier hold, he grabs one of the detachable shower heads and starts in on Jay's neck and chest, his torso, his arms. The blood sluices away in horrifying rivulets, racing toward the nearest drain. “Up,” he commands, nudging one of Jay's hands then.
Blinking and shaking his head again, Jason raises both hands, palms out, so Bruce can wash them, then lifts his arms over his head, running his hands into his hair to dislodge more of the Clown blood.
A few deep breaths, and Jay manages to get his feet underneath him and stand on his own, the improvement another relief to Bruce as he washes more blood off his boy's torso and points south.
“Jay?” he tries, cupping one cheek with a palm to get his attention.
Jason blinks again, and finally his eyes are shifted back to their human blue, crystalline and clear. “B-Bruce?” he stammers. “What... what the hell was that shit?”
Bruce lets out a long breath, feels his own pulse calming, finally, and hands Jay the shower head so he can continue to wash himself on his own. “The drug was modified vampire blood. Cooked up like meth, but more potent than PCP and twice as hallucinogenic as LSD. Bad stuff. Those Clowns probably would've died from overdose after a while. Looked like they'd dipped into the supply, and didn't know what they were getting into. Are you okay?”
Pausing in his washing, Jay closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, slowly stretching, his joints popping in various places. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, opening those blue eyes again and fixing Bruce with a questioning look. “How long was I on the floor?”
“Two hours, maybe. I'd thought you'd showered and gone up to bed while I was still working on the drug analysis.”
A nod, and Jay starts back in on washing himself, settling the shower head back in its cradle and grabbing a loofah and body wash while Bruce does the same. “I... I remember coming in to get a shower... and the floor looked like an awfully damn good place to lie down. Then I started shaking, seeing things. Then you were there, and you dragged me in here.”
“Hmm. Time loss. Not surprising, considering. You only got a low contact dose, too. Diluted. There's no telling what it would've done to you at full strength.”
“Well, I know one thing it's done,” Jay answers, his speech slow and deliberate as he stows the loofah on the nearest hook and leans against the tile wall.
Bruce hums in question, turning to find Jay's gaze focused downward. And, well, add another point to the drug's list of effects.
“You gonna help me with this, or what?”
Feeling the weight of Jason's heated gaze then, Bruce takes a deep breath. If anything, it'll help ease the tension of the evening, and besides, he hasn't had opportunity to touch his boy like this in weeks. They both need it.
Nodding, Bruce reaches for Jay.
~*~*~
Afterward, as they're both sated and loose, drying off from the extra-long shower, Bruce sits on the bench in the locker room, toweling his hair and watching his lover. At the same time he's admiring those tight muscles moving beneath pale skin, he can't help the whirlwind of his thoughts regarding the vamp blood and the Arkham connection. There has to be a way to get more intel without tipping anyone off. Has to be a way to get in without going as the Bat.
When Jay pulls a gray t-shirt over his head and gives him a smirk, his hair wild and needing a good combing, it hits him.
“We should host a charity gala to benefit Arkham,” he says decisively, all the pieces fitting together nicely in his head. “We can hobnob with the heads of the asylum, get all the juicy rumors, and possibly snag a private tour of the facility. What do you think?”
Jay looks at him with a contemplative expression, his brows knitting together as he finishes dressing. “It could work. If they're cooking up vamp blood as a drug in there, we'll have an inside line. Then I'll rip out the throats of the ass holes doing it,” he finishes with a gleeful sneer.
It's a look that Bruce can't help but love, even as he snickers. There's nothing he loves more than to see his Wolf at work.
“It's decided, then. I'll have Alfred start the prep work tomorrow. As for now, I think we have a warm bed waiting for us upstairs.”
Jason grins darkly. “Read my mind.”
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Jason Todd
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,465
Prompt: For dcu_freeforall: Shower
Summary: Bruce starts to put a few things together about recent developments in Gotham.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Twenty-fifth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; follows (Un)Necessary (you might want to reread that one to refresh yourself, since it's been so long, and this one directly follows it [doh!]). Warning for the effects of a hard-core drug. It's great to be back to writing this 'verse! \O/
(Un)Connected
The drug isn't at all what Bruce had expected. Going over the data for the tenth time-it pays to be thorough, he reminds himself-he notes the markers present in the chemical breakdown. Hemoglobin. White blood cells. Platelets. All the things that comprise blood, but not.
They've been altered, in some fundamental way that's turned them into a hallucinogen. Something akin to PCP, but stronger, more addictive, and absolutely lethal in large doses.
His mind flashes back to the first tests he'd run on Tim, back when he'd first taken him in. A thorough exam to see just what was going on beneath the surface of the newborn vampire's skin, to find out what made him tick, to look for a way to feed him without raiding blood banks, to find a way to cure him of his affliction. Failed endeavors all.
Tim's blood looked nothing like this, and yet... exactly the same. As if... as if it were a first step toward turning his once-human blood into the substance he's currently studying.
The thought, and all its implications, is terrifying.
Entering calculations into a program, Bruce plugs in the data from Tim's tests alongside his present data. And waits.
The computer works quickly, illustrating the necessary steps to turn normally human blood markers into the drug, and beeps twice when it's finished.
The process is unmistakeable. And simple. A graduate chemistry student could've figured this out, given the right supplies and a few days to work.
Shit.
A frown moves over his face, and Bruce does the rest of the math in his head. With only a few ingredients, a pot, and a stove, any hack with the know-how could cook this drug. All he'd need was a willing donor.
And Arkham is just chock full of willing donors, with nearly half the population comprised of vamps that can't be held elsewhere.
Which means the drug is coming from Arkham. Or at least, the original supply is coming from Arkham. Either way, it means there are people behind the scenes there working to get this drug on the streets. Into the hands of the Clowns.
The Clowns.
Jesus. The Joker.
Of course.
~*~*~
An hour later, Bruce finds Jason curled up on the floor of the locker room, still covered in blood from the Clowns he took down earlier in the night. His eyes look glazed, shifted to their lupine yellow, and his teeth are bared in a grimace as he holds his knees and shivers, his tongue occasionally flicking out to swipe a little blood from his chin.
Panic lances through Bruce's chest as things click into place in his head. “Jason!” he shouts as he rushes to him, kneeling by his boy and lifting his head from the blood-streaked concrete floor. “Jason?”
Those glazed eyes turn up to him, a whimper escaping Jay's throat as his teeth grind together.
“Jason, listen to me,” Bruce commands, cradling his face with both hands, even as he knows it's a bad idea to even touch the blood of the Clowns. He can't not take the risk, not when his boy is in trouble. “You've been drugged. The Clowns were hopped up on modified vampire blood. Need to get this off of you now.”
A tiny flicker of recognition passes over Jason's eyes at that, and he whimpers again, his body shuddering.
“Come on,” Bruce says then, relieved that he at least got through to him a little, and with obvious effort after such a had night, he hauls Jason up and over his shoulder, carrying him into the showers, still mostly-dressed himself. Settling Jay against one tiled wall, he gets up to turn on as many shower heads as he can quickly, enough to make sure Jason gets drenched, and strips himself in a few quick motions, tossing his uniform and boots out toward the locker room.
Returning to his boy, he hefts him up again, maneuvering him under the spray, and washes as much blood off of his face as he can with one hand.
Jay whines, long and low, his eyes fluttering closed against the onslaught of water, and he shakes his head in a dog-like manner, backing away from Bruce's hand as he sputters and breathes deeply.
“There you go. Come on,” Bruce prods him again. “Fight it off, Jason. It's the drug. It's damn potent stuff, and you have to fight it!”
Hefting him into an easier hold, he grabs one of the detachable shower heads and starts in on Jay's neck and chest, his torso, his arms. The blood sluices away in horrifying rivulets, racing toward the nearest drain. “Up,” he commands, nudging one of Jay's hands then.
Blinking and shaking his head again, Jason raises both hands, palms out, so Bruce can wash them, then lifts his arms over his head, running his hands into his hair to dislodge more of the Clown blood.
A few deep breaths, and Jay manages to get his feet underneath him and stand on his own, the improvement another relief to Bruce as he washes more blood off his boy's torso and points south.
“Jay?” he tries, cupping one cheek with a palm to get his attention.
Jason blinks again, and finally his eyes are shifted back to their human blue, crystalline and clear. “B-Bruce?” he stammers. “What... what the hell was that shit?”
Bruce lets out a long breath, feels his own pulse calming, finally, and hands Jay the shower head so he can continue to wash himself on his own. “The drug was modified vampire blood. Cooked up like meth, but more potent than PCP and twice as hallucinogenic as LSD. Bad stuff. Those Clowns probably would've died from overdose after a while. Looked like they'd dipped into the supply, and didn't know what they were getting into. Are you okay?”
Pausing in his washing, Jay closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, slowly stretching, his joints popping in various places. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, opening those blue eyes again and fixing Bruce with a questioning look. “How long was I on the floor?”
“Two hours, maybe. I'd thought you'd showered and gone up to bed while I was still working on the drug analysis.”
A nod, and Jay starts back in on washing himself, settling the shower head back in its cradle and grabbing a loofah and body wash while Bruce does the same. “I... I remember coming in to get a shower... and the floor looked like an awfully damn good place to lie down. Then I started shaking, seeing things. Then you were there, and you dragged me in here.”
“Hmm. Time loss. Not surprising, considering. You only got a low contact dose, too. Diluted. There's no telling what it would've done to you at full strength.”
“Well, I know one thing it's done,” Jay answers, his speech slow and deliberate as he stows the loofah on the nearest hook and leans against the tile wall.
Bruce hums in question, turning to find Jay's gaze focused downward. And, well, add another point to the drug's list of effects.
“You gonna help me with this, or what?”
Feeling the weight of Jason's heated gaze then, Bruce takes a deep breath. If anything, it'll help ease the tension of the evening, and besides, he hasn't had opportunity to touch his boy like this in weeks. They both need it.
Nodding, Bruce reaches for Jay.
~*~*~
Afterward, as they're both sated and loose, drying off from the extra-long shower, Bruce sits on the bench in the locker room, toweling his hair and watching his lover. At the same time he's admiring those tight muscles moving beneath pale skin, he can't help the whirlwind of his thoughts regarding the vamp blood and the Arkham connection. There has to be a way to get more intel without tipping anyone off. Has to be a way to get in without going as the Bat.
When Jay pulls a gray t-shirt over his head and gives him a smirk, his hair wild and needing a good combing, it hits him.
“We should host a charity gala to benefit Arkham,” he says decisively, all the pieces fitting together nicely in his head. “We can hobnob with the heads of the asylum, get all the juicy rumors, and possibly snag a private tour of the facility. What do you think?”
Jay looks at him with a contemplative expression, his brows knitting together as he finishes dressing. “It could work. If they're cooking up vamp blood as a drug in there, we'll have an inside line. Then I'll rip out the throats of the ass holes doing it,” he finishes with a gleeful sneer.
It's a look that Bruce can't help but love, even as he snickers. There's nothing he loves more than to see his Wolf at work.
“It's decided, then. I'll have Alfred start the prep work tomorrow. As for now, I think we have a warm bed waiting for us upstairs.”
Jason grins darkly. “Read my mind.”
~*~*~*~