dove in after him

unfinished log Gabe and Damien

Fri, 27 Nov 2009 13:33:53 GMT

Gabe bit Damien's zipper, holding it gently between his teeth. He'd only done it once before and with Josh, so he was nervous. Gabe had never thought of himself as the kind of guy who would want a cock in his mouth, and to want it this badly, to almost have his mouth watering at the idea. He drew it downward, slowly.

Damien stopped Gabe as he was going down, cupping his face in his palms to catch his gaze. "What are we doing, Gabe?" he said, stifled confusion ringing in his voice.

Gabe let go of the tab, "You know when you asked me over, I assumed that we'd be using our mouths for something other than talking." He pushed his hair out of girlsuit's face, "I'm about to suck your cock, asshole."

"Gabby..." Damien groaned, tilting his own head away. "I don't know how to react with during the times when you're zipping fast between being a PMSing bitch and the owner of that cock-of-the-world I want so much." We need to talk, was the only thing on his mind.

"To be fair, I come with a warning on the label: Hormone Supersentivity." He pressed his thumb on the curve of Damien's cock under the fabric, enjoying the fact that the other boy was half-hard. "I'd say just sit back and enjoy it."

Damien tried to suppress the urge boiling up in him, but couldn't for the life of him remember exactly what he wanted to talk about now. Instead everything was an immaculate white and the only thing he saw was Gabby's figure in between his legs. "You, are such a twat, you know that." Damien complained, bending backwards as he covered his face in mild playfulness. "I can't tell what ever it is you wanted."

Gabe just continued unzipping his jeans with his teeth. Damien was wearing cotton boxers and Gabe could see that a wet spot was forming in the cloth. He hesitated, a fleeting memory almost stopping him, but Gabe bent over and licked the wet spot gingerly before beginning to mouth the head through the thin cloth.

Damien pulled Gabe up, not wanting to wait. His lips sought out his partners and the long abstinence they have held made the touch feel like a dam breaking from the pressure. His wanting overflowed and his lusting burned. There was only him and Gabe. And the clothes that separated them. But not for long.

He pulled away, breaking the contact, "I was kind of busy." Gabe started shucking his clothes off and tossing them to the side, "But you're in charge, I guess." He slipped his hand up Damien's shirt, grazing a nipple accidentally.

(in progress)

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 23:30:16 GMT

characters: gabe and josh
players: coffeebased and mlina
universe: marvel 626 owned by [info]mlina and [info]_thenothing_
title: to follow
rating: to follow
notes: set after the library thing, and you're both assholes and don't ever change assholes

Jason and Cecile, 2956 words

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 16:49:57 GMT

Title: Jumping Point
RP Universe: Nothing Better Universe (a DC AU)
Characters: Jason Todd coffeebased and Cecilia Bergman slpwlkngdreamer
Timeline Notes: Occurs roughly five years after Bruce Wayne's death, three years after Damian and Mariel's arrival and a little bit before Tim gives up being part-time Batman to be Oracle/Seer. see timeline/masterpost.

Jason showed in front of Wayne Industries at around 730 in the evening, the time she usually left the building. He'd kept his bike running, revving it every so often to wake it. It was getting miserably cold, and he enjoyed feeling the warm metal under him.

Cecilia saw him before she had even stepped out of the building, and from where she stood just inside, wrapping her scarf as close as she could around her neck without suffocating herself, he really was hard to miss.
After assuring herself that she was ready for the cold, she stepped out, and smiled as she approached him. "Waiting long?

"Not really." He gave her a smile, just enough to show everything was fine. "Tim thinks it's time." Jason held a helmet out for her, "You ready, slick?"

Was she? If she were completely honest with herself, she wasn't so sure. What had started out as a simple job playing secretary to one of the head honchos of Wayne Industries had metamorphosed into something much larger, and much more dangerous.

But like Grandpa David always said when he told her about what he had done to get out of Germany during the height of the fascism: "Just close your eyes, and jump."

So she did.

"Yeah," she replied, accepting the helmet and fitting it over her head, glad that she'd chosen to wear slacks and boots to work today. "I'm ready."

Jason shifted forward, making space on the bike. He'd brought one of the pretty bikes and it didn't have as much space as his Redwing did. She'd see it when they got to the 'cave. Tim had let her into the secret ages ago, shown her the bare bones of the Misson. But this was different. This was personal; it was like giving her a part of Bruce.

But they needed her smarts, they needed someone to take the pressure of Tim's giant brain.

"Up you get." He held out his hand for her.

Cecilia slid her hand into his, and a voice in the back of her head that sounded eerily like the sixteen-year-old girl she'd never been started squealing like a Twilight fan catching a glimpse of Robert Pattinson's bare ass in that Spanish movie he did. The comparison was not meant to be favorable.

So she did her best to lock that voice up, and made her grip as firm as she could, because she didn't want to come off as a flirt by pretending to make her grip weaker than it really was. She was a former cop, for heaven's sake. Now wasn't the time to think about how cute Jason Wayne was, or how good he smelled, or-

Aw hell Cecilia, just shut up already.

And with that, she settled herself on the seat behind him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, knowing no other place to hang on. She nodded then, indicating that she was ready.

They sped off the main street of Gotham, hooking lefts and rights as fast as Jason could turn them. "Daredevil antics for show, okay?" He yelled back at Cecile over the rush of wind and the roar of the traffic they were dodging.

It had to seem like that cad Jason Wayne taking his older brother's lovely secretary out for a night on the town. "Won't delay us!"

And he didn't lie; they made it the manor in what felt like no time at all. He rode slower as he took the driveway, braking the bike in front of the main doors of the house. Jason took his helmet off, smoothing his hair down as subtly as possible. "Home."

Cecilia slid off the back of the bike, doing so very, very carefully, so that she didn't make a complete and utter fool of herself by collapsing right at his feet.
Jesus freaking Christ, the man was INSANE.

With very deliberate gestures, so as not to show how hard her hands were shaking, she took of her helmet, shook out her ponytail of dark, honey-colored hair, and gave him a droll stare. "Good thing I'm not on the force anymore," she said, "or I'd've had to arrest you."

"You could still do a citizen's arrest." Jay kicked the bike stand into place with the back of his boot. "Are you going to need a minute, Cecile?" He'd known that they'd been breaking speed limits, but he hadn't thought they were going that fast.

He held his arm out as congenially as he could, "Kitchens first then." Jay smiled, "Favorite room first and then the 'cave."

She could catch her breath there, maybe he could even make them some dinner first. Jason's stomach had been growling even before he left the manor to pick her up; now it was just snarling and trying to claw out.

Cecilia inhaled deeply, and exhaled long and soft. Steady girl. No need to show him that your nerves are still shaken up.

After she had made sure she could take his arm without her shivers showing through, she slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow. "Kitchen sounds like a very good idea."

Jason pushed the front door open, "I'm feeling like a sandwich, how about you? I think Mariel might have left us some pasta from lunch if she's feeling generous, but D probably scarfed it down before he left for patrol."

The house was empty the way it ought to be. He guided her down the large hallways and corridors, cutting through the dining room instead of taking the long way. Tim was playing Nightwing to Damian's Batman tonight. Mariel was with Dick, patrolling the East End since Selina was still in Metropolis. "It's just going to be you and me tonight, no pressure. We're just sort of formalizing your entry into the fold."

"I...see." Cecilia could not help but look around, the fabled Wayne Mansion opening up before her. As a little girl she had always wondered about this place, what it must look like on the inside, but never once, not even when she had become an adult old enough to leave behind fairytales of dashing princes mounted on swift white chargers, had she ever dreamed she would set foot in it.
But she could look at the place later. She inclined her head in Jason's direction. "And who might these kind folks be, whom you just mentioned to me?"

"Sorry, you probably know Mariel better as Huntress. The second one anyway. D's Damian, the littlest Wayne, a.k.a. the smallest Batman ever to Bat." He stopped in front of the double doors of the kitchen. "But forget that first. You're about to see the most amazing thing ever."

Jason braced his hands on the door, "Pretend there's drumroll, okay?" and threw them open. The kitchen lights automatically turned on, showing off its concave ceiling and the gleaming steel of the sub-zero refrigerator and the convection oven and stove. He walked in and pulled a stool out for her at the marble island in the middle of the room. "You like?"

Like? If the kitchen were a man she would have married him on the spot. "I think you know me a little too well," she remarked, smiling as she took the seat he offered her, and rubbed her hand absently on the marble under her hands.
"So if I move in with you guys, I get to use this kitchen to my heart's content?"

He laughed, "I'm glad you like it because this beauty is the secret behind our success. Imagine hungry teenage boys growing up and fighting crime most of the night." Jason leaned on the counter in front of her, "Alfred, our butler, would keep huge pans of meatloaf and ham and different cheeses in the freezer for when we got hungry at awkward hours." He felt a small twinge in his chest, Alfred was another thing that Cecile'd never get to really understand.

"He died about two years after Bruce did. Heart attack." It had nearly killed them all, to lose Alfred so soon after Bruce. "And Mariel took over when that happened. So you'll have to fight her for cooking time during the day."

There was no mistaking the pain in his eyes, the slightly haunted look. Whoever Alfred was, he had been a beloved part of a family.

And she knew, all too well, what it was like to lose someone so important. She'd seen the exact same look in his eyes in a photograph of herself that had been taken at her mother's funeral.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "He must have been a good man. They must have been good men."

What was it like now for them, she wondered. What was it like, now that Batman - Bruce - was gone?

For some reason, it didn't bear thinking. It reminded her too much of what it had been like, losing her parents, and while that was a world away in the past, there were times - like now, Jason's presence - that the pain came rushing back in, and she was unsure when the tide would recede.

"They were the best." Jason turned away, digging up a couple of plates. "We're going to be playing catch-up for the rest of our lives." Bruce was dead but they had Batman for as long as they could keep him.

He cleared his throat and pulled the door of the fridge open, "And because I was Alfred's most loving supporter, I still make the meatloaf and stock the cold cuts." He pulled a large plastic container out of the meat shelf.

Jason turned the inner door to her, "You'll have to pick your own condiments though. I'm a mustard and ketchup man myself."

They had a truly epic condiment collection because none of them ever liked the same stuff on their food. Mariel often despaired on grocery days refilling odd requests for specific kinds of mayonnaise, pickled ginger and in Tim's case, chili puree' with olives in them.

Cecilia raised one eyebrow as she approached the fridge. "The contents of your fridge are nothing short of epic." She slid in under the arm he was holding up to keep the door open, and took a look inside. "I could cook every single one of Julia Child's recipes from the stuff in here - and then some."

In the end, though, she managed to find a plastic container of prosciutto and another one containing slices of melon. "I'll have these, if you don't mind." She glanced at him, and grinned. "I always liked ham and melons."

"No problems here. Other than the confusion about eating fruit with meat." Jason put his haul on the counter, gave her a plate and three forks, and began assembling his sandwich. "I'm kind of glad we didn't go straight to the cave." He popped the cover off the meatloaf and sliced a thick hunk out of it.

"It's a bit overwhelming. And we're really not used to bringing new people there." He popped the meat between two slices of fresh bread slathered with mustard and ketchup. "And no offense or anything Cecile, but we need you really bad."

Cecilia tilted her head inquiringly as she carefully wrapped a thin slice of prosciutto around a melon piece, and bit in, the sweetness of the melon mixing with the saltiness of the ham and filling her mouth with heavenly flavor.

She savored it briefly, and then swallowed, before asking, "Can you explain to me exactly what it is I'm going to be doing? Mr. Way- Tim wasn't exactly forthcoming about it."

That was Tim for you. Moving pieces around and forgetting the important bit about explanations. "We used to have a huge communications network solely devoted to intelligence. The person in charge of this network left Gotham around three years ago due to what Tim calls 'differences in opinion' and I call Tim and Dick being assholes."

He took a bite of his sandwich, "Oh my god, I am the best chef ever," he moaned embarrassingly. "Where was I? Anyway, Tim's been trying to build a newer and better one. We've spent the past years gathering intel and he's been trying to compile it into an intuitive database."

Jason frowned around his amazing sandwich, "Unfortunately it's come to the point that even Tim's giant brain can't hack running Wayne Industries, directing the movements of our team and spending every waking moment he's got left writing code and fighting with computers." He wiped his mouth with an absent-minded thumb, "You've got the chops to do it."

Well, that made perfect sense. The way Tim explained it to her, she thought she'd have to act like some sort of supercomputer. "So essentially," she paused as she bit, chewed, and swallowed another bite of melon and prosciutto, "I'm to handle intel and logistics for you, and maybe communications. And I was chosen because, what? I could handle the arcane intricacies of Tim's filing system? Is that what his intuitive database is going to be like, except, well, maybe writ large?"

"Kind of?" Jason took another bite, then stood up to get them both a glass of water. "More like you're going to be his second, Tim handles communications, but you'll be his go to gal for the code writing and beta testing."

"Job involves reading a lot of entries, linking and cross-linking them and updating them as soon as new information comes out. After a while, Tim says his code will learn to do it for the two of you." He shrugged as he slid the glass to her. "It sounds like voodoo to me."

Cecilia shook her head. "I think I understand what he's trying to get at, but I do agree that at this stage, it sounds like a bit like voodoo." She murmured a thank you to the glass of water he handed to her, and she took a sip, cleansing her palate of the taste of melon and ham.

She waited for a beat, then asked the question that was really bothering her: "I'm not going to have to go out there at night with the rest of you, right?"

"Do you want to?" Jason knew she could hack it, but with her day job and the Tim Drake project. "You had to have left the force for a reason."

"Yeah, actually, I did." She looked down at her glass, swirled the water around in it. "It was hard enough, being a woman in the force, but when I got shunted to Narcotics, I... Well. I know I'm strong, and I can handle myself in a pinch, but I'd much rather stay someplace safe."

Someplace where you can run and hide and the crazy bastard with the sawed-off can't shoot you like he shot your partner, who lost his face, by the way, and they had to do a closed-casket service for him because no one could do anything about his face.

She shivered, forcing the memories down. Don't go there, Ceci, she told herself. Don't go there where the shadows are.

"No shame in wanting safety." Jason put his hand on hers, "Now, you know our secret. You're local, you know what that means." He was afraid that they'd put another civilian in the line of fire, but Tim has assured him that Ceci had gone into this with her eyes as wide open as possible.

"I've been doing this since before I was a kid. I've seen almost everything. I've died young and I came back crazy." He looked at her intently, "I know the hazards, and I want you to know you can back out. Go back to being simply Tim's secretary. But we'll need you to keep our secret for the rest of your life." Jason smiled, "Melodramatic, but the Mission needs it."

Cecilia nodded, trying to keep her heart rate under control. "Yeah, I know what that means. But Tim explained the Mission to me, and I know what that means, too. I could go back, I know, I was offered that way out." She looked up at him, straight in the eye, and was unaware how her voice had dropped a notch in volume and tone, how she'd licked her lip slightly with the tip of her tongue before she spoke. "But I don't think I could really let myself do that. Not now. Not when I'm standing here, on the edge."

For a second she heard her grandfather's voice again, telling her to jump, Ceci, jump - and just let everything fall away.

Watch me, Grandpa, she thought, as I make the biggest jump of my life.

She turned her hand up under his, her fingers curling around his wrist. "I'm staying. I won't go back."

Jason leaned across the scant distance between them and kissed her as gently as he could, twining his fingers into hers. The clock in the kitchen chimed the half hour, but he ignored it.

There'd been something about Cecilia Bergman that had made him like her when they first met over a year ago. Probably some part of like recognizing like. He pulled away, "I just needed to do that."

Oh holy hell... Did that just happen? She stared at Jason, unable to believe- Had she been that transparent?
Maybe she had been. And really, did it matter now? Especially now that she'd committed to what he - they, his family - was offering her?

Licking her lips - deliberately, this time, as an invitation and a promise of things to come, if he wanted it - Cecilia slid off her chair, and tilted her head slightly. "You were going to show me the cave?"

[MASTERPOST] is that a love triangle or are you just happy to see me?

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 13:44:46 GMT

title: is that a love triangle or are you just happy to see me?
characters: gabe jackson, josh foley and damien leroux
players: coffeebased, mlina and prolixbrevity
universe: marvel 626 owned by mlina and _thenothing_
rating: pg-13 to nc-17
notes: for my own reference

Roomies One
Pancakes
Uno & Dos
Roomies Two
My Dick is Bigger Than Yours
Don't Worry, We'll All Float On

After a Short but Indeterminate Amount of Time
The Library Thing
And You're Both Assholes
Don't Ever Change, Assholes

don't ever change, assholes; 1104 words

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 21:39:59 GMT

characters: gabe and damien
players: coffeebased and prolixbrevity
universe: marvel 626 owned by [info]mlina and [info]_thenothing_
title: don't ever change, assholes.
rating: pg-13
notes: set after the library thing and and you're both assholes

Gabe punched him in the nose. "You're telling me you TOLD Summers?" He pulled Damien out of the way and inside, shutting the door behind him. "You ASSHOLE."

Damien was pushed back by the blow, but took comfort in the knowledge that the damage would have been reflected back. He landed on his ass, and it was from there that he looked up, waiting for the surprise (or the anger) to light up Gabe's face. "Heh," he spat, "You presume too much, Gabriel. How are we sure that none of your other little lovebirds around here didn't squeal?"

"There is NO ONE ELSE. You're just this one moment of weakness that won't go away!" Gabe looked down on the other boy, itching to stamp on his face but not really looking to add to the damage he'd taken from his own punch. "And now you're saying they're moving me out of our room."

Damien rose to his feet, ignoring the blood his nose now spilled. And that could have worked out for us! But forgetting all gods and consequence, he dealt one final blow and said, "Apparently, your Golden Boy matters to you to the extent that though you could be expelled, your fucking concern is leaving that twilight freak's room."

Before barging out the door, Damien threw Gabe one dirty look and said, "Don't worry. I didn't tell a single soul."

Gabe grabbed his shoulder, "You didn't?" He didn't bother disguising the relief on his face, "God, I was going to kill you." He tightened his grip on Damien, "Why the fucking hell would you even say that?"

Damien remained silent, moving only to shove Gabe's hand off his shoulder. "Don't bother, Gabby. Now you're sure it's done."

Gabe was still reeling from the random emotional roller coaster that Damien had brought to his room. But he couldn't help but snark back. "What's done? There was nothing to end between us."

"That's just perfect, Jackson. Can you let me go now?"

He blocked the way to the door, "No. I don't think so."

"The door isn't the only exit, Jackson." One quick glance and he gauged the distance to the window. "Dare me. Endurance and recovery are what I train for."

Gabe all but rolled his eyes, now that he was coming down from the heart attack that Leroux had nearly given him he was feeling a bit stupid and dangerously relaxed, "Don't be so dramatic asshole."

"Hah. Wrong move." And with that, he made a run for the window, aiming to place one foot firmly on the ground before he aimed the other on top of the small bedside table below the window.

He crossed the room in two steps, grabbing the other boy's t-shirt from behind. "Not so fast, Damien." Gabe pushed him off the table and used the force from the Damien's fall to push him onto the bed. "You really think you can win at this? With me?" He switched into girlsuit, smiling.

Damien lay there stunned for a while, he expected the intervention, but not Gabe's speed. It was aonly a while before he recovered, but when he did, he made it a point to shove her off of him in a hurry. "Hmph" he managed to grunt, "I just needed you away from the door."

"I think you're confusing me with someone who cares about what you need." He shifted back into himself and used his extra mass to pin Damien to the bed, "I will fuck you. And you will like it." Gabe pressed his fingers into the other boy's hips, "Just because you pissed me off."

Swiftly he sent his head straight for Gabe's, a headbutt he was sure the lad wasn't expecting. "No one toys with me, Jackson. Not when I've ceased to care." He sent a kick to Gabe's stomach and while he thought Gabe would be reeling from it, tried to flee.

Gabe simply increased the pressure in his grip, licking the line of blood away. "Shut up." He nosed along the angle of Damien's jaw, trying to quell the other boy's movements. Another application of slightly augmented strength that he's overlooked. He pressed the line of his body againt Damien and bit the other boy's earlobe to feel the sting on his own.

"You persistent little dick!" Damien struggled as the weight above him kept him immobile. Dammit, he cursed inwards. He felt the piercing and hate it. It was annoying when the other simply refuses to hit you hard enough for it to hurt when sent back. In his agitation, he tosed and turned frantically onto both sides, fighting back the urge to cry out for help. Surely the amount of psychics in the institute would hear, but pride was far too large an issue for Damien. "You asked for it, Jackson."

Tossing one more time, he tried to use his momentum to throw him and Gabe into a reversal of positions. Boy would Gabe be fucked then. No one treats Leroux in this manner.

There wasn't much Gabe could do but wait Damien's struggles out. "You wouldn't be acting like such a pissy little bitch if you didn't want this." He shifted again, taking the chance that he'd be tossed all too easily, "Or something like this." He pressed girlsuit's chest to Damien, screwing his hips down into the other boy's. "I'm offering you a free pass." Josh already thought it had happened, may as well be hung for sheep as a lamb. "Take your frustration out on me, and we can end this properly like big boys."

There. That was what it took. Damien managed to pry hands his loose when Gabe moved to press against him, and in that second sent them both on a collision with his neck. The hit should distract him long enough to land a couple more blows, but Damien knew to grab for Gabe's head instead and send his elbow crashing into it. Repeatedly.

"No one," he said, hammering away, "can do this to me!"

Gabe didn't want to flinch, but damn if Damien had an arm on him. He raised his hands in surrender. "You like the chase, I got it." His nose was bleeding pretty badly, and he could feel his eye swelling already. And damn if the only healer in the school wasn't going to take this kindly.

He finally rolled off Damien, shifting back and feeling the skin stretch tightly over his injuries. "Just get out of here. Figured you've never really been vulnerable before." He spat near Damien's feet, a splotch of blood on the white carpet.

and you're both assholes, 1371 words

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 18:12:58 GMT

characters: gabe and damien
players: coffeebased and prolixbrevity
universe: marvel 626 owned by [info]mlina and [info]_thenothing_
title: and you're both assholes
rating: pg-13
notes: set after the library thing

Gabe knocked on Damien's door. He needed to talk to him now, before Josh got out of training. Whatever thing it was that they had between them had to be resolved.

It wasn't a particularly hot day to necessitate any less clothes than he normally wore, but Damien seemed to think it merited the long shower and the lack of fabric now upon his person. He had only just retrieved a clean change of clothes when a knock rapped on his door.

"Madre de dios," he muttered, pulling the door ajar with one hand, whilst the other clasped onto the towel that hid his lower body from view. "Can I help you?"

He paused, hand still in mid-knock, "Yeah. Can I come in?"

Damien stifled a cackle, "Coming in is never an issue, Gabriel. You can come in. I was just about to dress up."

"Thanks," Gabe sidestepped the other boy. He wasn't sure where to put himself, choosing to stand by the window. It seemed like a neutral place to stay. If anything else, he could escape through it if he, if things got out of hand. "I'm sure you know why I'm here."

He couldn't help it. Gabe sort of set himself up for his little jests. "I have an idea, but you never know. But to be safe, you.. Might want to be more precise with your wording, Gabriel." Damien let go of one end of the towel and proceeded to dry his hair. "Is it safe to presume you missed me?"

He looked down, eyes drawn by the movement, and immediately his head snapped back up. Gabe wasn't reddening, no of course not, "Dude, towel." Why did he even bother. "I just wanted to be clear that the other night was the last time."

"It was the last time, silly. That's what you call the event prior to this next time."

Gabe's mouth opened, then closed. "No, you douche, it's last as in never to be repeated again." He shook his head, "And that's pretty much why I'm here." He made his way to the door, "Mission accomplished, I'm going to go now."

Damien leapt back, pushing the door closed. "Gabri--Gabe, relax. I tease." Leaning back on the wooden exit, he wrapped himself tight with the towel, giving Gabe a look as if to say 'happy?'

"You don't have to go so soon."

"I really don't have any reason to stay." He shrugged, "Not that my reasoning skills have been up to par recently." The library thing was an example of that.

Nodding sagely, Damien pouted. "Please?" And he pointed to the stack of clothes he'd set out. "I'll be quick and we can go grab something to eat. Perfectly platonic, I promise."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but no chance in hell." Gabe shouldered past Damien, trying to make it to the door.

Damien was shoved aside but moved to push the door back in place, expecting a large bang with it as it closed. "No," his face seemed to say, as it hardened into an expression of resolution.

"Are you doing this because of Foley?" Damien asked, eyes digging into his target. He squeezed himself in between Gabe and the door.
"Or do you honestly want nothing more to do with me, Gabe?"

It had been stupid idea to come by. Gabe was beginning to doubt his motivation for even coming by. "No, I was just trying to be a nice guy." He punched the space beside Damien's head, "I want. Out."

"I'm afraid the message isn't that clear." Damien let both hands fall to the floor, rolling his palms into fists. "You might want to aim better.... 'Cause that other night wasn't just some fun little game for me, you ass."

He had to be joking. "Look, dude, I heard you hitting on Josh." And Gabe wanted to scrub that memory out of his head with steel wool. "So don't play that card with me."

"You expect me to be serious with the guy who ruined our evening? I was trying to diffuse the situation with a little confusing humor, Gabriel. Sorry for trying to make him hate me more than he hates you."

Gabe didn't trust Damien farther than he could throw him. "And you expect me to believe that." There wasn't much between him and getting out of this room, one push and... "And it's not like he could hate me anymore now."

Damien loosened his fists, that fucking pussy. His features softened as he listened, wondering whether keeping Gabe here was the right choice. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," Gabe said. Damien was skeezy, and a douche, but the blame lay solely on his shoulders. "I decided to meet with you and I knew where it would lead."

"But the shit only hit the fan because I was klutzy and careless. I knew we should have headed for an empty classroom.."

"God, I want this to be over now." The next time he faced Josh, he wanted to do it with a clean conscience, a cleaner one anyway, "Yeah, water under the bridge, spilled milk, whatever." He hated the way Foley had looked at him, the way he hadn't been back to their room since the other night.

Damien frowned. Seriously, this was disappointing. Seventeen years of having his way and when he finally decides on something he doesn't want to let go of...[yet], they disappear. This just pissed him off.

It only took a second for Damien's expression to harden again; to open the door as wide as he could and to utter one word. "Fine."

And Damien kept to staring at the floor, his gaze like pointed daggers. Fine.

"What do I need to do to make sure this goes away?" Gabe could leave right now, really he could, but he didn't want Damien to be wandering around their school with a grudge. He'd seen it before, kids blowing up suddenly in corridors and making a big mess. "No hard feelings, no future surprises."

"No HARD feelings?" In a fraction of a moment, Damien had lunged at Gabe and tried to land a solid punch to his jaw. "Where the fuck is all this shit coming from? Who fucking said that he wasn't your anything? That it was all just sex? Seriously, Gabriel, you had better leave with just that to remember this meeting by or else you'll require full use of your mutation to help you recover from what I might just do."

Gabe didn't feel the pain from the impact, but Damien's words stung. "I didn't know he wanted me." God, Gabe really didn't want to get into this with him; his issues with Josh were his own stupidity. "He just wasn't saying anything, you know?" He didn't want to girlsuit but, "Shit."

It was like madness consumed him and all reason failed. Damien buried his hands into Gabe's collars and proceeded to kick him out of his room. "Whatever. A mistake. I got it."

His door slammed closed, hoping that leaving Gabe alone to think was indication enough that he didn't really want to bash his face in. Asshole.

Gabe skidded into the hallway, barely managing to stay upright. And that was what vulnerability got you. He kicked the closed door as soon as he was able, "Hospitable!" He stared at the door for half a second before deciding that fuck it. "I'm leaving!" Gabe hitched his pants up on his hips, girlsuit or not, he really wanted to kick Damien's ass.

Damien fell to the floor, back leaning against the wooden door and felt the kick just as it landed. Fucker! was his main thought, but the idea of Gabe being angry despite his little implied confession only seemed to reinforce the tightening in his chest. It reached to his pinkies as the pain seemed to course through him like spurts of electricity. And, duh, of course it hurt.

Damien wanted to get back up, grab Gabe, push him against a wall, beat him silly and kiss him---but with his morning, a would-have-been-perfect morning, ruined, he did nothing else but head back to his bathroom... For now.

Gabe and Josh, 564 words

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 05:40:31 GMT

characters: gabe and josh
universe: marvel 626 owned by mlina and _thenothing_
title: don't you worry, we'll all float on
rating: r
notes: set after Gabe and Josh, take two

He opens the door hesitantly, trying to see if he can make it without waking the other boy. Gabe sticks his head in first and sees that the room’s exactly as he left it.

Josh is still in Gabe’s bed, covers pulled high as his chin. The light from the curtains, a single stripe that shows a beautiful day, glistens across Foley’s exposed shoulder and glances off his cheek. The ceiling is lit up with little gilt reflections, mirror images of places where Gabe’s run his hands and tongue all over.

He’d thought that he’d been feeling guilty in the coffee shop, but it’s nothing compared to seeing Josh sleeping peacefully like this, not knowing that Gabe’d left. There was a huge space where he’d been sleeping and the blanket dips right over the dimples over Foley’s ass.

The door closes behind him as silently as it opened. The pumpkin spice coffee he brought as a peace offering is put on their dresser, and the apple Danish is put beside it. They’re both still warm, he’d pretty much run on the way back from the café. Josh can enjoy it later, he thinks as he sheds his jacket. October was getting chilly enough that he had to layer.

Gabe has a brief mental image of Foley’s skin in a cold breeze, lips blindingly cold on his tongue when he kisses him. Gabe has to get into that bed.

He kicks his sneakers off into the corner and sheds his jeans as quickly as he can without hurting the equipment. His t-shirt is crumpled into a ball and tossed somewhere behind him. They can clean the room later.

They can figure everything out later.

He gets into the bed and under the blankets. The mattress dips beneath his weight making Foley roll back flush against his chest. Gabe kisses the point where Josh’s ear meets his neck, enjoying the way his hair smells like the shampoo they used last night when they were getting cleaned up.

“Gabe?” Josh asks, his voice raspy. “Dude, I smell coffee. Can I have the coffee?” But contrary to his words, Foley just turns and nudges his dick against Gabe’s hip, morning wood heavy and interested.

“There’s coffee and a Danish.” Gabe drops kisses on Josh’s face. His chest is feeling tender inside, ashamed that he’d thought of leaving, loving the feeling of Foley in his arms and just seriously happy to be where he is.

“Man, you are the best roommate ever.” They kiss, open-mouthed, tongues tangling as Foley rubs up against him, boxers tangling with their legs. His hands slip and slide over Josh’s back as he tried to angle himself in a way that’ll get both of them against each other. There isn’t anything hotter than this, Gabe thinks, as he sucks a copper bruise into the other boy’s neck, nothing I could love better.

Later, they share the single cup of coffee and break the Danish in half because they’re too lazy to go to the kitchen. Josh gets crumbs in girlsuit’s hair and Gabe shrieks unbecomingly when the other boy tries to lick a dribble of applesauce of his breast.

Legs tangled in the Josh’s, Gabe says “Good morning.”

And they lived Happily Ever After until the next day when they had to go to class early and ugh, Keller is a jerk.

The End for Now

NOTHING BETTER [Timeline + Master Post]

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 06:55:20 GMT

Infinite Crisis
Batman (37) dies. Dianne (2) is one of many affected by temporal and spatial disruptions that occurred during IC, aged to 5 years old.

a) Nothing Better: 1 of ?

Year 1
Dick (24) becomes Batman for a few months, gives up cowl to then Robin, Tim (16), and then current Nightwing, Jason (17). Tim gives up being Robin and shares both the cowl and Nightwing duties with Jason.

Year 2
Damian and Mariel arrive, Damian (13) becomes Robin, Mariel becomes Huntress. Dick begins to show signs of mental instability.

a) A Flash of That Smile
b) Shinobi

Year 4 - 6
Cecile Bergman becomes Tim's secretary. Tim becomes Seer with help of Cecile Bergman. Damian becomes Batman.

a) Introducing Cecilia Bergman
b) Jumping Point *newest*

Year 8 - Dick has mentally regressed to 12 years old.

Year 10
Dianne (15) meets Selina Kyle and the brothers, Wayne. Becomes Robin VI. Cisco (21) meets Kate Kane and Renee Kane nee Montoya.

a) Cookies, Lotion Thieves and Tim's Judgment
b) Cisco: Character Essay
c) The Note
d) Introducing the New Girl
e) But Then I Got Better
f) Lost Girls: Dianne and Cisco

Year 12 Cisco comes to Gotham. Everyone finds out about Terry (25).

a) Finding Terry
b) Trying Terry and Crossdressing

Lost Girls: Dianne and Cisco

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 06:36:26 GMT

RP Universe: Nothing Better Universe (a DC AU)
Characters: Dianne Dean(coffeebased) and Cisco Vega (mlina)
Timeline Notes: see timeline!

She folded her apron into the closest approximation of a square and stowed it in the cabinet they used as lockers. It had been a long day really; she'd had a history test that she hadn't been able to study for completely because of a robbery that'd taken longer than usual to close up.

Dianne winced, rotating her arm and feeling where she'd strained it last night. At least she wasn't on duty tonight, as much as you could not be on duty when you were Robin, anyway. She flattened her hair as best she could and sat at a table near the enormous plate glass window, waiting.

:::

Outside, Cisco muttered a soft curse under her breath and resisted the urge to flip off the cab driver that hadn't so much as bothered to slow down, nevermind that she'd had the right of way. Crossing to the other side of the street she turned the corner to see her destination - and a familiar blond head seated by the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She put herself in view of Dianne and waved a greeting before motioning that she'd head inside.

:::

Dianne waved before she could stop herself, then turned the gesture into a half-hearted attempt at brushing an errant lock of her hair behind an ear. "Hey you! Did you have a hard time getting here?"

:::

"Nah, not really." Cisco offered a smile as she slid into the chair opposite the other girl. "Crazy cabbie tried to kill me though, but other than that it was pretty quiet."

:::

Dianne grinned, "Cabbies don't try to kill you in Central? Nothing like Gotham."

"Just got off my shift a few minutes back. I've got three hours before I have to report at our next job." While having this conversation minimized the possibility that Tim would be listening in, she'd have to be careful to keep things on the down low. Having Cisco here might trick her mind into thinking it was in a safe space.

:::

Cisco nodded at that, her mind flitting through the names of who would be out that night, where and how she fit into things. She'd finally managed to fall into the proverbial groove of things vigilante-wise after coming into with the bat family roughly a month ago. The people-relations during that same time period though, were taking a bit longer than what she'd hoped for.

Of the people she was now "working with" as Renee put it so delicately, she'd seen Jason the most, had had her fair share of encounters with Dick, and managed his and hellos to both Tim and Damien at least... once a week? Two, if she was lucky (or unlucky, whichever came first).

The girl seated across her fell somewhere in the middle since Dianne seemed to have so much to do between school and work and of course night patrol and training. That was okay though, Cisco was glad to take whatever was available - besides, in comparison to the men of the house, at least Dianne came off close enough to normal as a vigilante/crime fighter was allowed.

"Yeah," Cisco made a face, "but three hours is still three hours right? We don't have to talk shop. Hey, I know you work around coffee and stuff but you want me to buy you a cup? You look beat."

:::

"I never say no to coffee. But maybe a decaf? I've got lower body training tonight and I don't want to cramp up while I'm climbing Jay's version of Everest."

Dianne was sort of looking forward to being bullied by Jason. It wasn't that she didn't like patrolling; but it was nice to be able to just brush up on skills training. Tim had noticed that she'd barely logged any hours at the Cave this past month other than to change into Robin and back.

Or that was what he told her anyway. More likely, he'd noticed that she hadn't had a night off in ages and thought he was being helpful.

He really needed to figure out what to do with that protective streak. Dianne figured she could tell him where to put it if she could just schedule a meeting with his secretary.

:::

"Uno momento." It took her no more than four minutes to get them both coffee - decaf for Dianne as requested - before she rounded back to the table. "Everest?" Cisco inquired.

:::

"Thanks!" Dianne took a sip. It wasn't as good as when she made it but, hey, free coffee was free coffee.

"You'll see it tonight. Jay runs a wicked treadmill simulation that lasts almost two hours at varying elevations. He even controls oxygen flow; you gotta wear a plastic mask the entire time." She rolled her eyes, "It's not really Everest but it sure feels like it."

She put her cup down, trying to be careful to not make it clink on the table. "Damian runs it for three hours every other night."
:::

"Is it weird that I am actually looking forward to seeing this... Everest?" Cisco laughed and took a sip of her own. "How long has Jason had you on this one? Or are you just starting?"

:::

Dianne laughed, "You won't wanna see it after you've done it!" Jay, she thought fondly, was inventive with his tortures.

"I've been doing it on and off for as long as I've been working there. He's really in charge of everyone's regimen. Sort of like a field officer, I guess? Tim's all about the intel." She tried to straighten up in her seat. Cisco looked pretty nonplussed about the whole thing, or maybe she just didn't like Dianne's babbling.

"Why don't you tell me how you're finding Gotham?"

:::

"It's alright so far." She turned her cup around, a habit she'd picked up somewhere. "Am still trying to establish... I dunno, um, 'usual haunts', you might say. Trying to build a routine."

Cisco made a face and chuckled a little. "You'd think I'd've had one by now. Hey, maybe when you're not swamped with school or whatnot, you play tour guide to my tourist?"

:::

Dianne giggled into her own cup. "Tourism. In Gotham." The very idea tickled her in a way that only a girl intimate with the backstreets of Gotham could be tickled.

"You'd learn more if you went out on patrol with us?" She wasn't entirely sure if the other woman would want to do it, or whether Tim had said she could. But it seemed as though Cisco had spent an entire month just locked up in the manor.

:::

She relaxed against her chair and let out a small sound. "Actually, that's what I was thinking. I guess I just don't know how to go around asking," she paused significantly without really meaning to, "Tim about it."

Leaning forward the redhead fiddled with her coffee again. "Would you believe that up until Renee and Kate mentioned sending me over here for training I had... no idea about you guys?"

It sounded ridiculous, but it was the truth. She recalled the look on The Queston's face when she'd well-meaningly inquired who exactly the "Bat Family" was.

We get the *one* kid who doesn't know about the Bats? The phrase still echoed prominently in her head despite the time that had passed.

:::

If Dianne had been giggling earlier, well, she hoped she wasn't bothering any of her usual customers with her laughing. "Don't worry about it. We've been trying to keep everything on the downlow." She lowered her voice to a murmur, "It works better if people think as little of us as possible."

"You know, we could cut out of here early and make it back to the Manor. I'm sure I could bug Jay to put you on with D tonight. If you want, I mean."

:::

She wondered briefly if it should have bothered her that the suggestion of going out on patrol actually made happy sounds go off in her head. Then again, her new "parents" were The Question and Batwoman and she had just relocated residence to a manor that might have passed for one of those old black and white movies, and which, to top it all off, was built above a Bat Cave.

"Think that'd be okay?" She ventured, downing the last of her coffee in one gulp. "I don't need to sign a waiver or something to add to the rest of the paperwork?" She didn't mean to sound so wry, but the truth was that Tim and his ability to organize information the way he did bordered (to her at least) mildly on the obsessive.

:::

"No paperwork, best thing about it." Dianne smiled. She picked her bag up off the floor. "And you really don't have to do anything other than follow-" She narrowed her eyes, remembering where she was.

"Let's continue this in a different place." She stood up and led Cisco out of the cafe'. "This is the first time you've been out right?"

:::

"Yup." Cisco nodded. "Feeling rather grateful for it since I think I was going nuts all locked up." She fell into step with the other girl. "Where to?"

:::

"Let's take a left here." Dianne really didn't want to drag Cisco into rush hour foot traffic. She led the way down a side street, coming out into a small alley. Once there, she started patting it down, looking for the panel that would let her into one of her safe houses.

"Where is that knob- Ah." She flipped what seemed like a brick to the side, noting that she had to oil the hinges pretty soon, and keyed in her pass code.

A door opened in the formerly solid wall. Dianne checked that none of the emergency lights were blinking before showing Cisco in.

"Welcome to the Nest!" DIanne grinned at the pun. "Free of Bat-everything."

:::

Cisco looked around for a bit and grinned when she faced Dianne again. "Safe house or personal space?"

:::

Dianne made a face. "Safe house only." She plopped into one of the only two stools in the small apartment and flapped her hand at Cisco to sit on the other. The Nest was pretty much the size of a two-car garage and it had everything a Robin needed: a bike, emergency supplies, costumes, fake i.d., make-up station and a closed network version of the Cave's computer.

"So, where was I?" She rocked on the stool from the small clinic at the side. "Since it's your first time on patrol, if ever, you don't need to do anything except follow B on his patrol."

"Kind of just learn the lay of the land. Maybe be his support if he needs any."

:::

"Alright. Sounds workable." Cisco meandered over to the bike and grinned a little when she lightly let her fingers roam over the polish. She turned back to Dianne. "What's Damien like when he's on patrol?"

:::

"He's alright I guess. He's weird though. Doesn't talk much unless he needs to say something." Bat-like. But that doesn't mean much to someone else. "Part of Robin duty to provide the talking. Quips are standard."

"Usually patrol starts at 9, or earlier if there's a crisis. And then he goes through hotspots in the city. Not much going on lately." Means something big coming up, she thought to herself.

"D's been Batman for around six years now."

:::

She felt thoughtful at that. "Why'd you sign up for this?" She waved a hand around as if to encompass everything, even the things and the people that weren't immediately there.

"I hope you don't mind me asking. I mean, I heard about The Mission and Kate said something once about this being a way to honor the original Batman's memory... but why do you do it?"

:::

Dianne groaned, "Oh man, I was hoping you'd just think I was Tim's half-sister or something." She blushed slightly. Man, that might be awkward. "Can I just lie and say I'm an alien from another planet and I'm waiting for my powers to manifest?"

:::

Okay Dianne, Cisco decided then and there, was officially marked down as 'friend'. She was laughing for awhile.

"That's a good one. Alright, I won't push." She lifted both hands in a gesture of backing-off-now and let them fall to her sides. "TIm's half-sister, huh?" She lifted a brow and then shrugged. "It'd certainly explain a lot."

Walking over to the computer she peered at the screen. "He... isn't listening in on this conversation, right?"

:::

"I really, really want to say he isn't, but..." She shrugged. Maybe it would be better if they planted the idea of her being Tim's sister. It's not like she actually said she was.

Dianne checked her watch. Tim would just be getting out of his meetings about now though, so he probably wasn't listening live. He'd review the recordings for sure though.

"I was, what you'd call, a 'fan'." She groaned, feeling embarrassed all over again. "I guess you know Catwoman, right? I mean, even in passing?"

:::

"Does a crash-course from Renee and Kate count?" Cisco hunched over a little and smiled sheepishly. "But go on,"

:::

"Yeah, well, I was adopted when I was a baby," Dianne started off. "My birth parents are awesome, everything a girl would want, but I never felt like I fit in, you know?"

"Cliched, I know. But I have a bunch of older sibs and they were nice and all but... yeah." She laughed, "And I grew up in the East Side, Catwoman's stomping grounds," she elaborated.

"So, I used to have this whole hero worship thing going. I even used to think that she could be my real mom." Dianne wrinkled her nose, remembering. "So one day, I gathered up my courage and made myself a costume."

She bit her lip, not sure if she should continue.

:::

"A costume?" Cisco knew she probably shouldn't grin at that, but there was something about the story itself that struck her as just so... Dianne. "And then?" She waved her hands a bit in a gesture that the girl should continue.

:::

"Oh god, yeah. It was made of denim and vinyl." Dianne groaned into her palms. "God, I will never live it down."

"So, after much stalkage, I went up to Catwoman one night. She was beating up some thugs, for info I think, and said, I kid you not, 'Hi! I'm Catgirl! I'd love to be your sidekick!' " Dianne dissolved into giggles, nearly falling off her seat. (tag)

:::

"No. No?" She had to press a palm against a nearby wall to keep herself from falling over. "No. Seriously. Catgirl? Oh Dianne, you didn't."

:::

"I wish I didn't!" Yeah, if she could go back in time... Dianne shook herself mentally. If she could go back in time, she wouldn't do a thing differently. Except maybe the vinyl tail.

"Catwoman took one look at me and ran off. It took over three months of me chasing her down for her to even talk to me again." She sobered up. "I wasn't really that careful about my identity back then. She did some detective work of her own and figured that maybe I ought to make my way to the Cave."

"Turns out, she wasn't my mom at all. But she knew people who'd known her."

:::

"The... others knew your mom?" Cisco couldn't help but pause at this new insight into Dianne. Part of it was probably because barring the inclination to go vigilante, Dianne struck her as a fairly normal kid. With possibly regular parents. And a regular life... sans her secret identity. "So that means your mom was..."

She felt her voice falter.

:::

"Yeah. Part of the whole thing." She smiled, "Let's just say, being Robin's in the blood."

Dianne quirked her lips. "But other than that, and minus a few millions dollars in equipment and training, I'm just a plain Jane who got lucky."

:::

"Oh wow." Cisco shook her head. "That's actually pretty cool, Dianne."

"I mean, you've got people who can tell you who your mom was and all that. What she was like." She paused a bit, and quietly voiced a thought that had just occured to her. "Did... Tim know your mom? Cause," she added carefully, suddenly aware she might be venturing into not-to-be-spoken-of territory. "Well, I know Jason has this whole 'being involved' den-mother thing going, but I dunno... I guess Tim really... looks out for you. Kind of. Um." She squinted. "Will extract my foot from my mouth now."

:::

"Yeah." Dianne's eyes widened. "I mean, it's okay. It's just Tim did know my mom." When she smiled this time, she tried to keep it from having the bitter edge that usually came out when she thought about it.

:::

"They were an item before she died. On the job." She barely knew the woman, the girl, her mother had been, but it still kind of twinged in her gut. "Gang war. It was kind of her fault, I guess."

"But Jay really is a big old mama bear, isn't he?" Dianne wiggled her eyebrows mischievously, "All, RAAARWGH." (tag)

:::

She didn't press. There was something about the way Dianne said the facts, a kind of distance, she supposed (or maybe she got it wrong, she wasn't sure).

Cisco smiled. "Yeah, he kinda is. More so when he's not, I dunno, letting his tongue hang out all over the next female he sees."

She didn't press. So she decided to offer up something instead.

"I didn't have a mom." She dug her hands into her pockets. "Think it explains why now I have... two.”

:::

"Jay's the best though." Dianne remembered her first nervous nights at the Cave. "He was the only one who really bothered to listen to me, in the beginning anyway." She toed the lines of the tiled floor.

"Your moms have done a lot for Central City," she said. "I mean a Bat out of Gotham! Didn't know they could breathe the air out there."

:::

"I keep on hearing that." Cisco grinned. "Is it really that... out of the ordinary. I mean... is there a kind of rule or something." She said it teasingly. "But yeah, they're awesome. And Kate. Weird as it sounds, I am actually glad that she caught me."

She leaned back against the wall and smiled. "Hey. Thanks for this." She dug her hands deeper into her pockets. "Sometimes I feel like I have to watch my step with them - well, except Jay because his logic..." she actually giggled a little. She cleared her throat. "But yeah. And I hope I get the okay to patrol tonight." She rocked on her heels. "I'm actually really looking forward to seeing Gotham in the way that most people don't."

:::

"Bats are just one-City kind of people. We kind of take after the first Bat." Dianne reddened slightly, "Or they do and I just take after them. We're not here to save the world or anything. We're here for Gotham."

"I mean, that isn't to say we wouldn't save the world if we had to." She didn't want to seem like she only cared about her city. Not when she was technically part of the Teen Titans and Bats, a consultant to the JL.

"We're just not Superman or Green Lantern. You'll see it later."

:::

"Got any tips? I mean, I'm sure Damien will be excellent out there." She marshalled her thoughts. "Been doing a bit of reading on, well... the notable names."

"I know you said it's been quiet... which kind of makes me think I should be extra careful, if that doesn't sound weird. But, what's the probability of someone like I dunno... well, someone up in the ranks of evil villians, that they show up."

:::

"Pretty high, actually." Dianne started running through her mental list of all the 'villains' that lived in the area alone... and promptly gave up. "It's a chicken or the egg thing. Did Batman dressing up create costumed supervillains?" She'd met the Joker only once in her tenure as Robin. She'd been so badly hurt that she hadn't been able to go to school for a week. Damian hadn't escaped unscathed either.

Jay said that it was better than what he'd gotten.

"Just. Don't do anything if B doesn't tell you to do it. And if anything looks wrong, just call for back-up immediately."

They would never be as good, as efficient, as the first Batman had been. But they had each other to fill in the cracks. It takes a village to raise a kid, she thought, and an army to protect a city.

:::

"I'll do my best not to let any of you down."

What was it that Kate had told her over the phone that one night not too long ago: Just remember The Mission. Do right by that and you'll be fine.

"Hey," Cisco straightened and walked over. "Think Jay will be okay with running me through some training exercises? I want to make sure I'm limber for tonight."

Introducing Cecilia Bergman

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 05:19:03 GMT

RP Universe: Nothing Better Universe (a DC AU)
Characters: Jason Todd (coffeebased) and Cecilia Bergman (slpwlkngdreamer)
Timeline Notes: Occurs roughly four years after Bruce Wayne's death, two years after Damian and Mariel's arrival and about a year before Tim gives up being part-time Batman to be Oracle/Seer. (timeline headache) EDIT: see timeline!

Jay and Cecilia, take one

If there was one thing Cecilia absolutely did not miss about being in the force, it was the fact that she never had to bother with heels.

Sure, she'd worn them occasionally, when the bigwigs were showing up or for court dates, but she'd never had to wear them every godforsaken hour of the day. Or if she'd had to, she'd been able to discreetly slip them off, give her toes some breathing room.

But not here, not in this office. So she simply sighed, and curled her toes against the leather of her shoes, and tried to ignore the pinch by focusing on her work. There were meetings to organize, people who were dropping by, and she needed to get her boss's schedule ironed out.

:::

Jay knew that he was early. But it wasn't as though he had anything better to do with his time. Tim was being a jackass, scheduling him at 2 in the afternoon. The kids were still at school, so it wasn't as though he could just stay in the cave and train himself or anything.

He could've been asleep. Jay pushed the door open with more force than necessary, making a beeline towards Tim's office. If he knew the squirt, he'd have some kind of gaming console in there somewhere.

Jason spared a glance for the secretary, noticing the way the utterly miserable look on her face. Trust Tim to pick the boring ones. "Hey, Friday, tell my baby bro that I'm crashing his office til he gets back."

:::

Cecilia raised an eyebrow, and got to her feet, ignoring the way her toes screamed at her to sit back down, bitch. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Wayne wasn't expecting any visitors at this hour."

In the back of her head, though, her cop instincts kicked in, and kicked in hard. This man had the same features as her boss, to be sure, but she wasn't aware that Mr. Wayne had any brothers. Unless she had missed that part in her research, of course.

:::

He tried very hard not to laugh. Jason pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. "Um, okay. Guess you're new. I'm Jason. Jason..." he paused helpfully then frowned when she didn't finish his sentence.

"Wayne. Jason Wayne." He really didn't like keying the girl up too much, but hey, it was part of his cover to be a moron. "Of the, I own this building Waynes?"

:::

Oh. She'd definitely missed that part in her researc then. It was convincing, true, and his body language indicated he wasn't lying he said he was one of the Waynes, but she didn't think her boss would like it if he just came in.

She eased up a little, and offered a sweeter smile. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can let you in. Maybe later, when your brother comes back. But if you don't mind, you can wait here for now." She gestured to the spacious waiting area, which featured a coffee machine and a sideboard of snacks and pastries for those with a case of the nibbles.

:::

"Come on, sweetheart, little Timmy won't mind a bit." Won't mind that much, he amended in his head. Jason really didn't have a problem with waiting. There was a TV, anyway. "I really haven't had any sleep yet, just got off my yacht for this boring old meeting." He hazarded a puppy dog look.

Most women liked it.

:::

Cecilia raised an eyebrow. If there was anything she didn't like, it was being treated as if she was some dumb blonde who didn't know any better - which was funny, since she was a brunette. And the way this...Jason...spoke to her and looked at her, it was as if he expected her to keel over in a lovesick swoon.

Well. He had another thing coming.

She increased the saccharine content of her smile, and said, "If that's how you feel, I'm sure you can find your way back to your yacht, take a nap, and come back at two o'clock, when Mr. Wayne has come back."

:::

Jason laughed, "Oh February, I think I like you most of all." He gave her a clumsy salute and dutifully sat in the corner closest to her desk, trying to give the impression of cheerful tipsiness.

"What time is it in the real world, anyway?"

:::

"Twelve thirty," she replied. "And my name is not February, or Friday. It's Cecilia."

:::

"Alright, Cecilia," Jason said, deliberately drawing out her name. 1230. Jesus, he really had to go get a life. Or actually become a playboy or something. There had to be a better way to spend the morning hours.

"Mind being a dear and getting me a bottled water and a croissant?" He sucked in his cheeks, trying to look pathetic. "I've got a hangover and Tim's First Aid Kit is in his office." He didn't think that the kid would mind him razzing his secretary. Not mind enough to kill him anyway.

:::

Cecilia resisted the urge to snap, "Get it yourself, you spoiled SOB." This was her boss's brother; she couldn't very well just do what she would have liked to do and cuss him out for ordering her around when he had no right. People could give her commands, for sure, but only if they had the right rank and had earned her respect. Her former boss at the police department was one, and her new boss was another.

But Spoiled Rich Boy here was not one of them.

Still, she smiled, but this time made it as cold and as thin as ice. "I'm still not letting you into his office."

:::

Yikes. Where did Tim find these people? Granted, Jason wasn't at his most respectable. "Hey, I'm sitting all the way over here." He raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not even touching the door."

He looked her over more carefully. There was no reason for any of the secretaries at Wayne to be this on guard. Jason took in the set of her shoulders and the way she seemed to loom, petitely, behind her very modern desk.

She looked like a cop.

:::

He was right, she thought. He was sitting all the way over there, and it wasn't as if he was going to be moving anytime soon. And then she realized she'd been acting more like a detective trying to keep a suspect in detention - all because he's rubbed her the wrong way.
Ceci, she thought, you're not a cop anymore.

She sighed, letting the tension seep out of her shoulders. "I'm sorry, sir," she murmured, and offered him another smile - a genuine one, this time. "I'll get you the croissant. Would you rather have coffee with that? It might help with the hangover."

:::

Yeah, definitely a cop. "I'm okay with water. Gotta hydrate." Jason watched her cross the room to the chiller, appreciating the view. Now the question was, why did Tim have ex-police doing his typing.

"Last time I was here, secretary was blond. Hot too."

:::

Some deeply feminine voice long-buried in the back of her head bristled at the comment, and wondered "Why? Aren't I hot, too? Or is it just because I'm a brunette?" But she kept her inner voice down, gave no indication of it, and she merely shrugged as she came over to him, accompanying the croissant with a packet of butter and strawberry jam.

"I'm not entirely sure what happened," she replied, bending at the knees as she put the plate of pastry, a butter knife, and a bottle of water on the low coffeetable in front of him. "I found out there was an opening, so I took it. It was certainly much better than any of the other options out there."

And much cushier than her previous job, that she knew for sure.

:::

"Yeah, we treat you right at Wayne." Jason tried very hard not to leer when she bent over to put the plate down in front of him.

His stomach managed a half-interested growl when the smell of the freshly warmed bread hit him. "I'll give you this though, Grant couldn't heat up a pastry to save his life." Jay twisted the lid off the bottle, cracking the protective seal.

:::

A small, involuntary smile curled on Cecilia's mouth at the compliment. "Glad my long years of heating up doughnuts didn't go to waste," she said, the tone wry and a bit more relaxed.

Maybe this guy wasn't as bad as she thought. Might be just the hangover that made him intolerable to her when he first came in.

:::

Jay noted that she was beginning to relax around him. "Man, what I wouldn't give for a jelly doughnut." He gave her a sad, put-upon smile. "But I've really got to watch my carbs," He cut himself a piece of the bread, appreciating the fact that it was crumbling impossibly around his cutlery.

"Have you had any lunch, Cecilia?"

:::

"I have, thank you," she replied - which was truth enough. She'd already eaten her lunch: a sandwich she made from whole-grain bread and the best cold cuts and cheese she could afford - which was a whole lot more lately, given her new salary. And as it was a rather large, hearty sandwich, she really wasn't feeling too hungry.

But she smiled at his remark on jelly doughnuts, and added, "Been a while since I had a doughnut."

:::

Bingo. Jason swallowed. "I think I spy a really handsome one right over there." He hesitated, not wanting to lay it on too thick. "I'd love the company."

He wasn't lying. It would be damn awkward to just sit there and eat, with nothing but Cecilia to stare at. He'd probably try to make conversation over the palatial distance between them and end up annoying her.

And since you could catch more flies with honey... "I mean, you don't have to." He willed his eyes to look bluer. That usually worked.
tag

:::

For a brief moment, Cecilia's inner instincts against all things bad and wrong went up, raising red flags and sounding klaxons. Was it right to accept his invitation? She was just a secretary after all, and this was her boss's brother. Would it be all right to accept?

But she'd been raised to a strict code of courtesy by her parents: her mother was Latina, and insisted that it was the height of rudeness to force people to eat all by themselves.

And besides, it was just a doughnut, not a three-course dinner or something.

"Anything you like in particular?" she asked, moving to get a plate and selecting a chocolate-frosted one for herself.

:::

Jason polished off the last of his croissant quickly to make room for the doughnut. "Jelly please." He really could just wait until he saw Tim and just ask him about the girl. Then again, what else was he going to do with his time?

:::

She couldn't help but laugh as she carefully picked up a jelly doughnut, grabbed a handful of paper napkins for the inevitable mess, and put the plate between the two of them, sitting a respectable distance away from him on the sofa. "You remind me of my old partner, before I came here. Loved jelly doughnuts too."

:::

Partner. So the police background wasn't a secret. "It's okay, I'm totally pro-gay marriage." Jason bit into his doughnut and hummed happily as the jelly burst into his mouth.

:::

Cecilia blinked in confusion. "I'm...not entirely sure what you mean," she said, slowly, taking a careful bite from her own doughnut, the chocolate smooth on her tongue.

:::

"Your partner, right?" Jason rolled his neck, trying to smooth a kink out from last night's patrol.

:::

She rolled her eyes. "Kurt was my partner. I was a cop - detective, really. Before I landed this gig." She gestured to the room around them.

:::

"A cop?" Jason snorted into his bottled water. "No offense, Cecilia, and I'd hate to wreck what I feel like is a lot of progress in our relationship, "But you don't look like a cop." There. Bait.

:::

She shrugged. She'd heard that line before, both from perps and from her own colleagues. "I've heard that line before. I know, I don't. But I am - was." And a damn good one, she didn't want to say - if not for the itty-bitty flaw of her temper.

:::

Well, this couldn't be an accident. Tim had probably handpicked her himself. "Hey, no one ever thinks I've got a degree in Business Management. I can sympathize."

"Tim's lucky you're his P.A. then. He used to complain that he changed secretaries like he changed shirts." He finished off his water. "None of them really kept up with his filing system.

:::

She laughed. "The filing system here isn't all that hard, once I learned the intricacies. The one at the department was worse." She gave him a look. "Business Management, huh? You do have a bit of the look: can't have that much money to spend unless you're either a trust fund baby or are managing businesses of your own, or for someone else."

:::

"I'm more of the latter. I handle the real estate portion of Wayne Industries." Jay leaned back into the plush couch. "Timmy-Tim-Tim's more of the public face of the company." He grinned at her from beneath his bangs,
"I'm more like our dad, really."

:::

"Uh huh. Billionaire playboy, just like Bruce Wayne," she said, smiling wryly.

:::

Jason's smile dimmed a few watts despite himself. "Yeah. Although Wayne Industries went past billions over ten years ago." He made a valiant attempt at a grin, "Old Brucie was very modest."

Sometimes, remembering Bruce was dead still felt like a punch to the gut. It'd been four years, and it still got him sometimes.

"Do you disapprove of billionaire playboys, Officer Cecilia?"

:::

She leaned back, eyeing him speculatively. Well now, that was rather sweet of him, wasn't it, calling her "officer?"

"I'm not entirely sure," she replied. "Never really been anywhere near their sort. As long as they pay their taxes and they're clean about where they got their money, as well as clean about their personal habits, can't say I disapprove of them."

She waved a hand airily. "Too high up there for me to be bothered by them. Interesting to watch, but not touch."

:::

Speaking of approval, it was difficult to not like her. "I'm a different variety altogether. Wouldn't mind being touched." He smirked at her. "Wouldn't mind it at all."

And he even meant it.

:::

"And that," she stated, "is where I draw the line." She smiled, but it was the sort she used to remind her old friends at her old job about the professional lines that stood between them.

"I know it when a guy hits on me, and I know that there are just some kinds of guys I can't let hit on me. And besides, this is the first time I've met you. I don't know you too well."

:::

Jason pouted, manfully. "Hey, I'm not that kind of girl either." He looked over her shoulder at the large modern art piece Tim used as a wall clock. "Man, time does fly."

:::

Cecilia followed his gaze, and nodded. "Right. He should be here in a few minutes." She picked up the used china and cutlery, setting them aside in a bin discreetly placed close to the sideboard.

:::

Jason's eyes followed her across the room, studying the mincing steps she took in her glossy pumps. "It's been nice talking, though."

:::

She smiled at him as she returned to her seat behind the desk. "That it has," she said, and she knew she wouldn't mind talking to him again.

But it was back to work for her, and she knew that in a while, her boss would walk in, and he and his brother would disappear into his office for a chat. And all would be normal again - sort of.

:::

Jay smiled at her one last time before picking up a magazine.
He was going to send her some decent shoes. Something that felt like a sneaker but looked good enough to suit her.

Maybe he could even have them custom made. Something with a steel heel and lots of support.

Finding Terry

Sun, 01 Feb 2009 16:52:43 GMT

This is a placeholder for DCau RP between mad_maeglin and coffeebased.
---

Jason Todd is lifting weights in the Batcave and is thinking of a manly way to stop.

long time no post :)

Sat, 22 Nov 2008 12:56:07 GMT

Title: A Foreign Country, original fiction
Rating: R
Word Count: 11711
Warning: Femslash

Part One | Part Two

---

This is my mininanowrimo story. It's original fiction and the longest thing I have ever written. I do hope that some people read it and leave comments if they do. It's so long that it doesn't fit in one LJ post! (n00b)

Thank you to hakkai_sensei and slpwlkngdreamer for the kind words and handholding!

I've enjoyed writing it and I hope that it's not an utter loss.

This is the song that I wrote the ending to:

No Buses by Arctic Monkeys download@mediafire

Lady, Where's your love gone
I was looking but can't find it anywhere
They always offer when there's
Loads of love around
But when your short of some
It's nowhere to be found

Well i know your game
You told him yesterday
No chance you'll get nothing from me
But now she's there, you're there and
Everybody's there
He's in turmoil, as puzzled as can be
Just like me

Let's go down, down, low down
Where i know i should not go
Oh and she thinks she's the one
But she's just one in twenty-four

And just coz' everybodys doing it
Does that mean that i can too?

Lady, where has your love gone
He was the antiseptic to the sore
To hold you by the hand
Must be first be in demand
How he longs for you to
Long for him once more
Just once more

Let's go down, down, low down
Where i know i should not go
Oh and she thinks she's the one
But shes just one in twenty-four

And just coz' everybodys doing it
Does that mean that i can too?

Ohh, her eyes went down
And cut you up
And theres nothing like a dirty look from
The one you want
Or the one you lost

An ache in your soul
Is everybody's goal
To get what they can't have
That's why your after her
And that's why she's after him
But saying it won't change a thing

And don't realize that it won't change a thing
Realize it won't change a thing.

RP

Fri, 10 Oct 2008 13:01:34 GMT

Blossoms Falling by Ooberman.

coffeebased and prolixbrevity

Julia has a cup of Earl Grey tea, two sugars and a lemon wedge.

Uno & Dos

Thu, 14 Aug 2008 10:49:27 GMT

Uno by mlina

That's your blood rushing in your ears.

He swallows your moan in his mouth, tongue moving up and down against yours just as his hands slip under the sweater that's kept away the cold. He's heavier this time around, mostly because you're her instead of him -- but you like it, crazy as it sounds. You like the press of his leg against yours, the weight of his torso that makes it just a little harder to breathe.

You say his name, snake a hand up the front of his shirt, fingers and palm coming up against chilled flesh radiating warmth. You resist the urge to touch the places you want to touch because somewhere at the back of your mind it's the weirdest thing to do, putting to mind memories of that first time you woke up, hands down your boxers, the dream having been so good that your entire being went on autopilot.

He's not even anywhere near as up in the ranks of high school heirarchy as you. He's skinny, a good enough basketball player, but certainly not the best. He's smaller than you when you're not her, and it's just weird. This, here, now -- because you know that neither him or you are gay but she gets in the way and there's this... attraction.

He doesn't kiss you. Keeps his mouth on your neck and your throat, hands moving up and cupping your breast just as his knee finds it's way between your legs. It's far enough to make you squirm inside, thoughts racing of wondering how it would feel. You shift, one leg coming up, knee brushing up unintentionally against him and he groans, his face buried on the mattress just above your shoulder.

You break away, awkward and contrite. Both of you. And he doesn't look you in the eye for days. They redraft the teams in gym class and for once, Josh doesn't protest to sharing a team with Keller.

----

Dos by coffeebased

The second time, the same as the first. A little bit louder, a little bit worse.

His fingertip is curving a question mark right beneath your navel, over and over again. You know he's afraid to ask because saying something leads to talking about it and you're too busy rubbing your ass into his crotch, arching everytime his nails graze over your nipples. Both of you are hidden under your blanket, trying to pretend that he hadn't climbed in and fit himself behind you.

Your lips are a tight line, face turned into the pillow and trying to breathe normally. But you can't, every breath is a stutter trying to turn into a gasp. The air is hot enough to boil in, hotter yet where you let him touch you: beneath the curve of your breast, squashed fingers trying to prise into the y of your legs and body.

His dick presses wetly against your thighs, moving in small circles, urgently rubbing hard enough to make you want to give in and spread your legs. But you're frightened, no idea what it would be like to have something down there and thought of the stretch makes you moan because you can remember one finger, two fingers, even a fucking hairbrush when you were curious.

And he finally makes it past the band of your boxers, past the scrub of your pubes and you arch when his middle finger lands into the top of your slit. His breath is harsh in your ear, wet when he opens his mouth to say, "Gabes.". You could almost come from that alone.

But you don't need to, no, because even though his fingers are sliding to get a good rhythm on your clit, it's enough that you go rigid against him, muscles tightening as the orgasm hits you, your girlsuit's cunt sucking at his fingers. You're ashamed that you're keening, softly, past your bitten lower lip, toes curling on his calves.

He comes with a sharp jerk, splattering on the outside of your boxers, his pants and underwear tangled around his ankles. He comes with a grunt, pushing his cheek against yours until he stops rutting against your hip.

You almost jump out of bed after he does, trying not to think past the warm shower waiting in the tiled comfort of the bathroom. He lets you go first, sitting forlornly on the edge of your bed, his briefs still hanging around one ankle and onto the floor.

He probably heard you when you came, for the second time that night, in the shower, your own dick wrapped tightly in your fist, wondering what it would be like with him, as yourself.

rp

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 22:42:25 GMT

characters: gabe and julian
universe: marvel 626
title: my dick is bigger than yours
players: beautybedamned&calliopedrowns

But Then I Got Better

Tue, 01 Jan 2008 06:08:32 GMT

Title: But then I got better
Universe: Nothing Better Universe (a DC AU)

Jay and Cisco, take one

roomies

Sat, 29 Dec 2007 15:57:08 GMT

Gabe and Josh, roommates, take two

Set after Uno and Dos

roomies

Thu, 27 Dec 2007 05:45:39 GMT

Gabe and Josh, roommates, take one

Mon, 01 Oct 2007 14:51:52 GMT

Title: Nothing Better 1/?
Universe: A DC alternate universe which has spoilers for 52, OYL and some current comics. Basically I'm picking and choosing.
Rating: currently PG, may become an R later on.
Character/Pairing/s: Everyone's fair game
Word Count: 1063
Warning: Not very well-written, rushed, contains character death and eventual slash. And I guess I have to add a warning for Damian who doesn't come out in this chapter... Gods. I'm bad at warnings.

Bruce Wayne's funeral happened in September, just when the leaves started to fall. The newspapers reported that he'd caught some strange bug while on a trip to the Amazon and promptly expired. The body had taken a month to reach the United States of America due to the rules on quarantine and even then because his three sons (Three! the matrons whispered over brandy and cigars, all the spitting image of their adoptive father) had thrown enough money at the proper people to hurry it along.

The lip of the grave crumbled gently, under their combined weight. Dick and Jason had stood on either side simultaneously bracing him up and relying on him for their cues. It was their first funeral in seeming forever, black suits and ties that shone, brand-new under the speculative gazes of the Gotham elite, while Tim still wore the same suit he'd worn to Steph and his father's funeral.

Tim could still see the flashbulbs when he closed his eyes. They hadn't even bothered to make it a private funeral, knowing that there wouldn't be a point to hide it from the press or the inexorable grind of the Gotham rumor mill. He'd heard most of the whispers already, a month after and they still left a wide berth for him in the school hallways, voices getting louder with each succeeding day.

The Style pages had a picture of the three of them at the side of the grave, heads bowed under the minister's instructions, a triptych of Bruce Wayne's life for the world to see: the eldest, the ghost of laugh lines on his face; middle boy, mysterious even to the best of the gossip reporters having spent his last years in some military boarding school for delinquent children; and the last and latest, poor Timothy Drake, yet an orphan again, surrounded by 'brothers' he'd barely known until the day Wayne died.

When the leaves fall again, faster and more furious in the afternoon wind, the shadows fall like masks across their eyes.
---

Jason flexes his hand inside the unfamiliar glove, testing the tension of the leather and the strength of the Kevlar in one idle movement. He scowls at the mirror, pausing to brush his hair into a neat center part before looking at the rest of the uniform.

He hasn't worn the mask yet, and Tim holds it up for him like he can't believe that this is it, this is what they've come too, and with a pounding heart he fastens it to his face, covering the light blue of his eyes. For a moment, his eyes match his uniform the swooping lines across his shoulders and chest.

Robin secures his own mask before peering into the mirror himself, knowing full-well that everything is in its place. "You could wear his suit instead." Tim's mouth crinkles at the edges before becoming Robin's smile, then flickers and dies. "If you don't want to be Nightwing." He ducks into a squat then comes back up again, seamlessly turning a fall into a handspring, just to hide the expression on his face.

"I," Jay's voice cracks, "I wouldn't wear the Bat-suit if you paid me," he swallows. Being in the Cave makes him more nervous than it ought to, even though someone's (Alfred) already took down his old Robin suit from the creepy glass case in the center and replaced it with the Bat-suit in question. He takes a look at it then adds "You pipsqueak." for good measure.

The jibe lies flat in the air before Tim chooses to ignore it and continue, "And you can't wear your Red Hood outfit because-"

"Because I'll scare the locals. I get it." Jason frowns and Nightwing does the same in the mirror. "I got it the first three hundred times during the briefing. This is fine."

"As long as you're sure." Tim re-fastens his right boot twice. "So I'm taking Tricorner to Robinson and you've got the Finger all the way to Crime Alley."

This is the first night he's going on patrol since practically forever in Gotham, but Jason's pretty sure that Robin's been winging his way around the city, alone, ever since the funeral. It's been three months since Jay's given up on going back to his safe house in New York, so it's been around six months since Bruce's been dead in the ground.

Privately, Jay thinks that won't last any longer than a year.

Yesterday morning, Tim left for school with nine stitches on his forearm, and he'd only found out because he'd tossed the kid his lunch bag on the way out the door and it pretty much just hit him flatly on the side, then in a crumpled paper heap on the floor.

Come to think of it, Alfred had given him the bag to throw. Hunh. How about that.

Anyway, he'd asked Tim that afternoon, casually, whether the grapples still worked the same way they did when he was Robin, and suddenly he was pressed for service for the Mission all over again, except instead of Batman hulking over him, there was Robin swearing him in so solemnly that Jason could hear the capital letters in the oath.

"You sure Dickie-bird up there won't mind that I'm flitting around in his suit?" He weighs the escrima in his hands before sliding them into the small of his back. "I mean, last time, he wasn't so happy."

"Dick doesn't care." Tim bites out before screwing his mouth shut and applying himself to fastening his belt around his waist in a complicated way that takes way too much fingerwork in Jay's opinion. "You can take the bike you were using as Red Hood, if you want, but make sure you keep to Nightwing's patterns of behavior." Robin straddles his cycle in an efficient movement, his cape barely making a sound.

Jason rides his own motorcycle, glad to have one thing that's familiar to him. When he revs the engine, once then twice, Robin looks at him one more time, his forehead creased in anxiety and Nightwing smiles back at him, winningly, "No worries, little brother." before gunning out of the cave and leaving Tim stranded in the dust behind him.

a/n: Okay, this is basically the second fanfic I've ever actually written, and not you know, conceptualized during Algebra class and hastily abandoned in the light of other better fanfiction writers. This is mostly for me and mad_maeglin's happy happy joy joy only, and I realize that there's a lot that needs to be worked on as of yet (like character voice for one, and I don't know, my strange dislike for dialogue) but please bear with me and don't flame the poor thousand words I've come up with. Especially since there'll be more in the coming days if my schedule and my muses are willing. /end defensiveness

writing exercises

Sun, 26 Aug 2007 15:45:41 GMT

ONE: featuring junderscorem (unfinished)
Universe: Original
Rating: PG-13, I guess
Character/Pairing/s: original unnamed characters
Word Count: 371
Warning: het&emo XD

---
ONE
We have our seasons: sudden deluges that trickle into droughts and back again with a single word.

I try to recall what has happened these past weeks, but my mind is too numb to remember anything

But when I least expect it I have a quiet memory here and there, snapshots of her shoving me across the hall or a dizzy laugh shared up and down the steps from primary school. The ghost of a papercut makes me wince when I'm half-asleep and the smell of decades-old perfume clouds my nose with no provocation. I'm a broken tap, leaking sensations.

Not even my friends can help me, a burgeoning reality seeps from the ragged fringes of my subconscious. Ever changing, twisting whatever is left of my self into nothing

I have never felt so tired, never more worn out than when I try to explain. There's nothing wrong with me, physically, I can tell that everything moves and reacts like clockwork, instantaneous reactions running deep into my skin. I live more in my head and act me out to the rest of the world. This is me, laughing. This is me, thinking. This is me, pissed off. Half-hearted, half-heated. If only emotion and sentimentality would stop being something to laugh at. Emo kids ruin it for the rest of us.

I laugh at that last thought. Stange. It feels like a drug to me. But the temporary high of humor is lost into a sea of utter confusion. Once again i am battered by what if's and how will's

Sitting in the fast food of the night, my sandals squeak and catch over the sticky floor while I wait for my order. The plastic number is a beacon, a signal for at least the busboy to find me. Superimposed over this is our first date, her hand sneaking through the minefield of fork, glass and bread basket to rest one finger on my palm. She traces small circles and snaking lines.

I remember sneaking glances at her low cut top, taking in the soft supple tone of her breasts. I quickly glance back up. she smiles sweetly. forgiving my sin and banishing any other thoughts of hesitation.

TWO: featuring: tempura03 (unfinished)
Universe: Original
Rating: PG-13, I guess
Character/Pairing/s: original unnamed characters
Word Count: 528
Warning: femslash

---
TWO
We have our seasons: sudden deluges that trickle into droughts and back again with a single word.

We may not always know what they mean, but they are there. There isn't anything we can do about it. Or is there?

She cants her hip against my waist into my side, almost knocking me into a stumble before tugging me upright with a dizzy laugh that rolls into my ears and I have to smile back.

It's been like this for a while. The whole "she-laughs-I-smile" thing. This, however, wasn't always like this.

I'm a broken tap, leaking sensations. RIght before waking up, half-asleep and slow from cold, I can taste her nape from more than a year ago, smell her cologne with my breakfast. I can only feel her when it's in my head; the rest of the time, she's only half-real. A leftover girl trying to fill her own shoes.

That's all. Leftovers. She's a shadow above my present. Looming and darkening over memories of a greater. Her tone, her voice, ringing in my subsconcious. But that's pretty much it. "Hello?" Reality.

I shut my notebook, open it, and shut it again. "What." I'm not annoyed. Really. Superimposed over this is our first date, her hand sneaking through the minefield of fork, glass and bread basket to rest one finger on my palm.

Her eyes, blue. Empty blue. Batting her feather boas of eyelashes. Her hand in attempt to crawl towards. What is she thinking? The windows are fogging. I can't really tell. "Are you ok?" "I'm fine..." A lie? Yes, a Lie.

"That's good to hear." She smiles gently to show she cares, then goes back to her schoolwork with a content huff of breath. "Help me with number nine?"

There was no possible wa---. "It's about the initial velocity, right?" Damn you, brain.

"Yeah," She isn't even bothering to look up, and her hair falls into her face, casting a shadow over her eyes.

Parking my cup of coffee, I stare at her for a second. I should be thinking of the problem. But, I just can't. It's her, not me. Another Lie.

She waits another breath more, then looks up again, almost too tired to be curious. She doesn't drink coffee, ignoring it for an orange juice the moment she got into your apartment. Her mouth deepens at the corners before she puts her book down and touches your cheek, testing maybe for a fever.

"Are you sure you're Ok? It's not like you space out this much." Oh if only you really knew. "I'm fine. Really" My stomach's in knots, my hand is cramped up and I'm full of coffee. No, aside from the hyperacidity and appendicitis, I'm telling the truth.

The kiss is absent-minded, a perfunctory peck on the side of my forehead. "Finals must be getting to you." She gets up and stretches, her loose chest rising beneath a borrowed t-shirt. "Bed. Before you collapse."

I feel like I'm going to faint, throw up, collapse or any combination of the three. "Alright, if you insist" She reaches out and grabs my hand, sweaty and aching. And then everything is Black.

---
coffeebased's notes: I was possessed with a need to write. tempura03&junderscorem indulged me over y!messenger. Funny thing is, while I was writing both stories with them, I found lines from each leaking into the other. The personas had different personalities and different circumstances tied together by the same words. I think it's fun. I haven't written anything in ages, and I'm lucky that they let their words touch mine.... huh. Hopefully, more soon?

Tue, 27 Feb 2007 07:42:03 GMT

Title: Drabble #1: Photocopy
Universe: My own
Rating: G
Character/Pairing/s: original unnamed characters
Word Count: 510
Warning: smooshy XD

I drew a picture of you the other day. It wasn't very good, really, just some sketch of what I thought you looked like. I just thought about you all of a sudden. The teacher didn't even notice that I wasn't listening to her lecture. The room was balmy enough to choke, warmer because of the heat of the projector.

I wasn't very discreet, just obsessed with getting the fold of your eyelid tucked perfectly into your face. I spent three hours on a meaningless doodle, first in pencil, a rough draft to remind me where the important parts went and then black ballpen to trace your features in a truer way.

My seatmate said that it was pretty neat for something I did. But, I didn't remember to keep the side of my palm off of you, so I accidentally smudged your right nostril into the curve of your cheek. It wasn't my fault. The pen was cheaper than usual and the ink blotted in unfortunate places. Mostly, it looks like you, made of feathery pen strokes.

I photocopied it after class, 60 centavos times 10 copies worth of you. I tried to have more done, but the original got eaten on the eleventh try and tossed into the bin before I could stop the lady. A friend and I colored two of them properly before I gave up on getting the shade of your skin right. It was difficult to remember it on the paper with only a box of eight crayons bought from a 7-11. The third copy has the background filled in instead, little flowers and lightning bolts in blue and brown.

Number four through seven were accidentally used to wipe up a spill of orange juice when my seatmate panicked. The eighth was used to wrap up a gift to an old friend. I haven't given it to her yet but I think she won't mind you peering from the edge of a ribbon. I'm a little worried about how she'll unwrap it. You don't need to tell me how lame that is, but you don't know how much she wants that CD.

The ninth became an attendance sheet during my thesis class, chosen indiscriminately and submitted to the class president at the end of the hour. No one noticed that you were on the opposite side of the page, kissing each table with a smiling mouth. I tried to get it back but failed when the teacher snatched it out of my fingers, thinking I was being considerate.

I kept the tenth in between the pages of my only hardcover textbook, trying to keep it flat between the pages I was supposed to study the other night. I tried to keep it safe for at least a week but ended up writing this letter instead. I don't really know what I was trying to say at the beginning of this letter, other than trying to prove that I'm a little loonier than you knew when you got into this whole mess.

Love,
Me

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 13:40:04 GMT

Title: Something Did
Universe: My own (lol)
Rating: PG
Character/Pairing/s: original unnamed characters
Word Count: 492

The distant gleam of fluorescent lights on the tracks reminds me of other, farther trains in Hong Kong that smelt of bleach and Chinese men. It curves sinuously, in an almost unnecessary fashion, then continues along as if nothing happened.

Under the full streets of my city, I wait for you at your stop, several rides away from where I ought to be. The cars do not roar above, victims of the combined powers of a blinking traffic light and an impotent traffic enforcer. I can imagine the concrete dipping under the strain of Toyotas and Hondas and falling to the underground.

Maybe it's the fumes. Or the anxiety of being in the wrong place at the right time, exactly as the northbound train hisses to a halt in front of me. It looks dangerous, pinging sweetly as the doors open. Warning me to stay behind the yellow line in case you don't want me here.

And when I see you alight from the car, suddenly I am seized by irrational notions. It feels as though it takes only you to make the trains run on time, the clocks in the station to blink and renew with every minute. Instead of tunnel vision I start to see a world that turns with tilt of your lip when you notice me. I lick my lip and try to steady myself. Like a rock or the concrete beneath my sneakered feet, immovable to even your exasperated look.

But when you grab my hand and pull me to the escalators, I am brought along as easily as you knew I would be. I want to be shy, but I am already here in your firm grip and under your gaze.

So when I kiss you, clumsy enough to make you laugh afterwards, it isn't as senseless as I thought it would be. I only came here for that one thing, just to know if you wouldn't mind me, in general. You took the second kiss, warm enough to make the exhaust from the streets feel like a breeze. Right there on the landing, in front of the ticket ladies and janitors.

And as I line up for my ticket back, several rides away to where I ought to be, I know you're already halfway home, cramped into a tiny tricycle cab. Right now, I can assume that you do not mind me that much. The woman at the counter gives me a knowing smile and ten pesos in change. My lipstick is smudged but I give her a grin back before I enter the turnstile for the second time this night.

My jacket is tacky with sweat and I wrap it tight around my chest. The distant gleam of fluorescent lights on the tracks reminds me of other, farther trains in Hong Kong that smelt of bleach and Chinese men. It curves sinuously, in an almost unnecessary fashion, then continues along as if nothing happened.

But something did.

Mon, 15 Jan 2007 16:22:16 GMT

Title: Shinji, Above
Universe: tokyo_below, a Prince of Tennis RP
Rating: G
Character/Pairing/s: Ibu Shinji
Word Count: 334
A/N: So Shinji escapes Above without telling Ryoma and here's a little something about what he found. PG and plotless, really. I play Shinji in the rp and he's on a mission to the Above world.
Disclaimer: Not mine... ;_; Both the rp and Prince of Tennis

It ought to be raining, you think, as you climb out of the bolthole.

Rain would give your trip some ambiance. Your lower lip curls as you imagine it, the Boy from Below finally seeing rain. After fifteen years of merely smelling the signs of its passage, you think you may be entitled to it. To you, the rain is characterized by the moist smell of wet soil clinging to the passages and the steady trickle-roar of water flowing around the city. But never being seen.

Rain is instead, a memory pieced together by stitching different sensory experiences into one, unified picture.

You walk out of the alley, and into the street, tentative and worried about being noticed. And instead of flowing rivulets and full gutters, you are greeted with enough light to scald the insides of your head. It is too cold to rain, frost glistens off every surface onto the harsh mirrored buildings. You will not raise your hand to shield your eyes.

This light is... different.

You thought you knew what light was. After all, you've seen a lamp, a lightbulb, the flickering burst of a match against the pavement. Why didn't anyone tell you? Not even your precious Ma-nii, who seemed to know everything as he helped you dress for Above's winter, had warned you that it would be like standing in a field of whiteness. There isn't even a real shadow to stand in, just weak, grey things that seem half-ready to give up.

There is no one to tell, no one to share it with. Just you, in a brown coat that hangs instead of being worn, breathing the dry air that cuts your nostrils with icy blades.

The Above makes you stare. Never mind the people. Just the sheer enormity of the space is breathtaking in a way that reminds you what it means to fight to breathe, to actually, literally, forcefully pull air into your body.

You have a mission, you remind yourself. Stop gawking and move.

But you cannot even begin to walk away from this. Here, where the world has suddenly exploded and become much larger than you've even thought possible.

You will move as soon as the world shrinks into something manageable, like the inner walls of your homestead or even the sprawling districts of the city Below. Because for now, it is impossible to even walk with the weight of this world on your shoulders.

Air Gear Drabble 1

Mon, 01 Jan 2007 13:18:28 GMT

Title: Fast and Loose
Universe: Air Gear
Rating: G
Character/Pairing/s: Ikki/Akito
Word Count: 205
A/N: Just felt like writing something fast and happy.
Disclaimer: Not mine... ;_;

One of the things I love about you is the large embarrassed smile you have on when I'm holding your hand. We aren't tentative about it, definitely not anymore, no gingerly pressed palms here. Just the rhythm of your pulse against my wrist, quickening and slowing with our pace.

As a matter of fact, I can't hide the spread of my lips either, the happy, crooked grin that won't go away even when we're about to get run over. I hear the blaring horns of trucks and they pale in comparison to the thudding in my chest.

There is nothing but slick skidding steps that hiss on the pavement. And maybe that wonderful swoop we make as we ride walls and railings. I can tell Agito likes this part more than he likes holding your hand. He grumbles until we're flying. And then all I can hear from him is a violent kind of happiness, a laugh with a bite at the end.

Nights like this are important to us. A time where we can forget that we're at war with what feels like the rest of the world. We are reckless, and that's the best thing about being young, the sheer negligence we're allowed to display.

Fri, 22 Sep 2006 08:34:23 GMT

Title: But
Rating: PG 13 for cursing and mature (?) themes. heterosexual relationship... WARNING. LOLOLOL
Characters: Original Characters who are unnamed LOL

You don't want to write about it. About the two of you and every night at ten. The temptation is greater than you expected it would be, but you figure that she isn't as stupid as you would like. Your professors told you to write what you knew, years ago when you were just some kid in the front row. It sounded simple. After all, the literary professionals couldn't be pulling everything out of their asses. But now you're doing it for real, right along with the rest of them. The paranoia paralyzes you sometimes. You can almost see a metaphorical set of fingers, delicately plucking the reality out from the soup of your words to show the world. It would only take one familiar flick of the tongue, dissected and redone in lies and she would know that you had taken it. So your position is delicate, teetering on the last few words you have left.

You’ve tried your best to keep it in the bedroom, hers or yours, but it makes no difference. It seems to spill out into the rest of the world, an obscene road show of alleyways and public toilets. Whatever of her you’ve kept off the page is already in your life, in the form of a single green toothbrush on the sink edge and that sweater that she never remembers to bring home. She is on your arm at parties, in your nose the moment you lie down in bed and staring you in the face whenever you try to pick up another girl, a better habit.

You are dogged by figures of speech whenever you think of her. After all it is your line of work to find words to express the intangible. So diffused is she into your routine that you are lost even though you know where you’re going. She has become telephone bells and the harsh humid heat of summer. It is not her fault that you have an overactive imagination when suffocated. It is all you can do not to write the best unlove story ever told by a dickwad like you. But you can’t do it. Simply can’t.

But each day your affair extends, the less you have to work with. It's getting embarrassing. You don't want to write about anything you've done with her. After all, you don't know exactly how she's going to react to reading Last Thursday or Christmas Eve in an internationally distributed novel. You can deal with her anger or her shame. Possibly even to the extent of forgiving her if she totals your car in a freak baseball bat accident.

Negative emotions don't scare you. They're normal healthy things that you're used to. You're afraid however, that she'll take it in an entirely different way. You're afraid that she'll think you're in love with her. What could you tell her if she assumed that?

You don't want to lead her on. But that's where your logic fails. If you don't want to lead her on, you have to just stop fucking her. Fucking with her. If you want something to end, you can do it two ways: end it yourself, a mercy stroke, or wait until she gives up on you. Either way, you’re the asshole who thinks that it’s one big inconvenience. And not to mention the honest truth is that you’d rather she drifts away by herself.

But even the first sip of your morning coffee tastes like her lip gloss…