DCU Comment Fics 1
May. 28th, 2010 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cat_13145DC Comics, Roy Harper and Lian Harper, first time Lian gets hurt as Speedy.
“Never thought I’d say this Harper, but speed limits were invented for a reason.”
Roy ignored Jason’s hands gripping the armrest next to him, the knuckles white. Lian was hurt. Lian had been hurt while on patrol with the Titans. Lian had been hurt while on Patrol with the Titans in his old costume.
“She’s fine. Roy.” Jason tried again, but Bats (and Jason in particular) didn’t have a normal person’s definition of fine. He slung the wheel of the Arrow car into Gotham General, deaf to the angry hoots of the other drivers and made to jump out.
“Can’t let you do that, Harper.” Jason’s hands were over the child lock. “Not till you calm down.”
“What?”
“The Titans are up there.” Jason’s voice was calm. “And they are freaked out enough by what happened. They don’t need to see Red Arrow freaking out to. So get it together.”
Roy glared at him.
“You realize it’s my little girl who got hurt.”
“Yeah.” Jason’s eyes narrowed. “And my little brother’s girlfriend. So calm down.”
*****
“Told you those roller-skates were a bad idea.”
“No, you said I’d break my neck.”
“Close enough.” Jason offers, holding the door open so Lian can hobble though. “Not as cooler cast though.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t tell what you’ve got written there!”
Roy grunted. “You need a lift?”
“The way you drive, Harper, no thanks.” He smiled. “Nah. Tim’s picking me up in a minute.”
“Of course,” Roy said, smiling “You’ve got that Secret JLA Avengers things the rest of us aren’t suppose to know about.”
“Dickie Boy really didn’t teach you about keeping Secrets did he?” Jason observed, glaring at the youngest member of the batclan.
Terry’s mouth was open to reply, when Lian said, “Terry shut up.”
Jason grinned. “See you tomorrow chickie.” He yelled as a motorcycle pulled into the parking lot.
“What about you Terry?”Roy asked, ignoring the Batfamily’s weirder members (and that took some doing) riding off into the sunset.
Terry nodded. “Damian’s got Patrol tonight, and Bruce is in Metropolis’s.”
“Do we still not know about him and Uncle Clark?” Lian asked, as she maneuvered herself into the car.
Terry shrugged. “No idea.”
Listening to them, Roy thought it could almost be the chatter of two ordinary teenagers, rather than two titans. Sighing, he climbed into the driving seat.
“You quite comfortable, Li?”
“Yeah.” Lian sighed. “Just embarrassed. I mean how stupid is it to get hurt by the Berry Bandit?”
Roy grinned. “Not nearly as stupid as getting a black eye from the Easter Wabbit?”
“No way.” As they laughed over his stupidity, Roy felt himself relax. O.K. Lian was hurt, but at least he’d know where she was for the next few weeks.
"
Jason/Tim, “Home sweet home is anywhere they can crash together.”
It’s a dump. There’s no nice term for it. Only real thing to recommend it is that it’s dry, slightly warmer than outside, ahs running water and a couch.
Tim’s so tired, that Jason basically carries him across the threshold. He tries not to think of the many, many wrong interpretations of that. Just throws the baby bird on to the couch and goes to try and rustle up something to eat.
He is slightly proud of being the only Robin who can cook, even if it isn’t Alfred standard.
Tim twitches slightly on the couch, and Jason glances over to make sure he’s O.K. He really shouldn’t try and push himself pass the 36 hour straight mark, Jason only mastered that after coming back from the dead. But no, baby bird is still on the couch and still fast asleep.
Jason’s actually pretty tired himself.
Yawning, he glances at the noodles balanced on the hotplate. If he turns them down, they should simmer, without burning, long enough for them both to get some sleep.
Slowly, he slides on to the couch, wrapping his arms around Tim.
Yeah this place maybe a dump. But its home.
Jason/Tim Hair pettings while sleeping
He’d never tell anyone, but he lived for moments like these. Just lying back on the couch, relaxing while Jason used his chest as a pillow.
He knew Jason’s injuries from the joker still hurt him sometimes, even though if asked Jason would deny it. Knew too that those events coupled with all he had seen in both his life and...After life, he supposed technically haunted him giving him nightmares, hence the nap with Tim serving as pillow.
He waited five minutes, until he was sure Jason was truly asleep, before gently reaching up.
Jason’s hair was a lot like Jason, wild and defining the attempts of anyone, even Alfred’s special gel, to tame it. Tim knew, he’d seen the pictures.
When you first touch it, it feels spiky, in spite of the length and more than a little gritty, even
if Jason only washed it that morning. Tim doesn’t understand that, and has no interest in attempting to.
Because once you get past that layer, it’s soft, very tough still, but soft and it feels so good to touch.
Jason seems to like it too, as he mutters and moves in to the touch while still asleep. And when Tim pets him, there are no nightmares.
Jason/Tim, Kindred (Dick Grayson’s POV)
At first glance, you wouldn’t think they’ve got anything in common.
Tim comes from Money; Jason’s a crime Alley kid. Jason had lost both his parents before he was 12; Tim’s were alive until a couple of years ago. Jason’s all about actions, emotions, a volcano that seems to be constantly active, Tim’s calm and logical.
The subjects they liked at school aren’t even similar. Jason liked history, where as Tim’s into computers.
But when you actually look a bit deeper, you see it’s not quite true.
O.K. Tim’s parents were around, but he was a latch key kid, no one ever knowing, or caring, where he was or what he was up to. If anyone can understand that, it’s Jason.
Tim’s lost basically everyone who ever got close to him. So Jason’s realistically, even if some of that was his own fault.
Tim’s passionate, but it’s a quiet passion, the kind you rarely realise is a passion. Heck, I only realised it when this random kid shows up to me, blathering about Batman and Robin.
They’re both sneaky. A lot sneakier than I’ll ever be. They can both actually sit still for hours. No way can I do that.
They balance each other out too, quite nicely as Alfred says. Tim can calm Jason down, or at least direct him into something positive. Jason can actually get Tim to talk about stuff, or at least distract him when he gets too focus.
That’s another thing they’ve got in common, they can both be scarily focused on a project when they chose to be. And it’s not just the mission like Bruce. They can both focus on things that are BAD ideas, whether it’s trying to clone Kon or Jason’s feud against the family.
Both stubborn as mules too. Which I always felt was a bit unfair as the mules we had in the circus weren’t’ stubborn at all, or at least not as stubborn as these two.
Neither of them can stand Damian, not that’s unusual in our family.
I guess the best way they fit together is that Bruce never really fired either of them. They quit, not by choice, in Jason case. And none of us bothered to go after them.
In that sense, I guess they are a lot alike. Kindred as Alfred or Damian would say.
Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason was too built at sixteen and Dick was still slim so guess who had to wear the dress...
“You look hot.”
Dick glared at Jason.
“Still don’t see why you can’t wear the dress.”
Jason grinned, wickedly.
“He’s not targeting drag queens, Dickie. Just prostitutes. I can’t get away with it, and your girlfriends out of town.”
Briefly, Dick wondered how Jason knows about him and Babs, before deciding that Bruce must have told him. “She’s not my girlfriend.” Jason rolled his eyes.
“Whatever you say.”
Jason began to change, pulling off his T-shirt. Barely fourteen, he could easily pass as sixteen or over. Almost as tall as Dick, but his shoulders are broader, his muscles more obvious.
Pinched features long ago lost their juvenile appearance. No, No way could he pull this off.
The only part of Jason that seemed even vaguely feminine are his eyes, a dark blue with ridiculously long eyelashes. Beneath them, a red mouth that looks made for sin grinned up at him, as he realised what Dick is looking at.
“Like what you see?” Jason demanded, standing his legs sprayed open, too tight jeans leaving nothing to the imagination. “Well if you’re a good girl tonight, maybe we’ll have some fun.”
Dick flushed. Dam it, what is about Jason? He can always put him on the wrong foot.
“Let’s get moving.” He muttered, using the rear view mirror to check his makeup.
“Don’t you know, Dickie the pimp is always in charge?” Jason’s finger grabbed the edge of the powder, smearing it.
“All the others had been beaten up, recently before the attacks.” Jason shrugged. “Looks like you’re trying to hide bruises now.”
Bruce hadn’t mentioned that, so either he forgot, or Jason figured this out for himself. He isn’t sure which is the least likely.
“Now, let’s roll,” Jason said, sliding into the passenger seat
Jason Todd/Tim Drake, after a fight as Robin, Jason finds this kid with a camera...
He blamed Dick for it. Well, Dick and the Titians. Well, Dick, the Titians, Bruce and Alfred for deciding that he needed to spend more time with heroes his own age, and Garth for his stupid stories. And Terra. Cause really the whole mess was her fault.
Garth had decided he needed someone to talk to. And Jason had the misfortune to be the only person around. Thus the whole twisted story of Terra’s betrayal came out; making Jason very glad he’s not a titan. And Garth keeps going on and on about how they should have known (which Jason agrees with, but he’s not complete jerk, so he doesn’t say) because of the weird klicking noise that kept following them. Turns out, that was Tara’s camera.
Jason had listened and offered tissues until it got dark and he could finally, finally, exact himself from under Garth’s chest and meet up with Bruce.
Except Of course he was late, so he had to try and catch Bruce up, and of course the Penguin goons were pulling off some heist, which he breaks up without much difficulty.
It’s then he hears the klick.
Which is why he’s now running along the rooftops, chasing a shadow. The klick was probably just in his head, a result of Garth’s stories, and he’s going to catch it from Bruce for not calling for back up.
Then the shadow turns left.
Jason grins. That Alley’s a blind way.
Carefully, he jumps down, trying to make himself look as big and as scary as possible.
“Past your bed time isn’t it?” he asks, head on one side. A part of him is a little disappointed that it’s only a kid, maybe a couple of years younger than him crouched at the end of the alley, but Tara always looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and she was virtually the same age as Jason, so he can’t really comment.
“Camera.” He barks holding out his hand. The kid hastens to undo the strap from around his wrist and handed it over; staring at Jason with a slightly creepy mix of awe and terror that Dickie boy gets with Bruce.
And now Jason’s feeling like a jerk, as this is just a kid who wants some pictures of Batman and Robin, no real threat and he’s terrorised him half to death.
He flicks through the pictures, mostly him and Bruce fighting, some of them from a couple of months ago, so the kid must have been sneaking around after them for months. Hardly safe activities, but given what Jason gets up to every night, who is he to comment?
He’ll take the kid home, maybe have a word with his parents and then catch up with Bru_
He stares down at the picture, taken outside of the school.
“Who’s this?” he asks, trying to sound casual, even though his heart is in his mouth.
“It’s...it’s you, Jjason.”
He doesn’t have to fake being scary, Crime Alley taught you to transfer fear into action, and the kid is against the wall, Jason’s hand against his throat.
“Who are you working for?”
“N...no one. My nameis Tim Drake.”
The name rings a bell. In fact he’s fairly certain he’s met the kid at one of Bruce’s fund raisers, now that he actually looks at him. Yeah, that black hair and electric blue eyes are definitely familiarly.
“Robin?”
Bruce’s voice comes through the ear piece, and as Timmy looks like he’s about to hyperventilate, he makes his decision.
“Meet you back at the cave Batman. Something I need to talk to you about.”
A nerve pinch on Timmy (who looks weirdly flattered and excited when he realises what’s going on) and load the small kid over his shoulder.
He’s not Dick. But He does recognise when he’s out of his dept, and this is definitely a three man problem.
Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, The older boys introduce Damian to rock music
He had tried; no one could say he hadn’t tried.
Anything sharp had been locked up in cabinets that would take any of them at least a minute to open.
Anything heavy had either being removed from the main part of the house, or bolted down.
The plates used at dinner were all chipped slightly and fairly light weight. No steak, there for no stake knifes to throw.
Alfred was certain he’d thought of everything, but as the stairs shook beneath his feet, it would appear he was wrong.
He rounded on to the corridor, nearly colliding with Master Harper, clutching Ms Lian to his chest.
“Hey Alfred.”
“Master Harper. Is everything...alright?”
Roy grinned. “Well they’re not trying to actively kill each other yet.” He adjusted his hold on Lian. “Damian revealed he’d never listened to rock music, growing up and things kinda went from there.”
“Ahh.” In music, as in all other matters, the young masters had very different tastes. In fact, now he actually listened to the noise, he could make out what he was fairly certain was the chorus of a song from Brain Twister. Master Bruce had never approved of them, though
Alfred found that if one actually listened to the lyrics and ignored the music, they were actually quite pleasant. Certainly more so than Master Bruce’s own tastes at the same age.
“What you doing Grayson?”
“Trying to save all our eardrums, Jason.”
The pounding was replaced by a male voice, singing about a drive through, almost drowned out by sounds of Jason fake vomiting.
“You do remember he was nuts right?” Tim’s voice.
“I saw Crane die.”
“And you still like this trash?” Jason
A pause, then “Drake if you put that CD on, I will personally slit your throat.”
Alfred and Roy exchanged a sheepish glance. “I suppose one of us should go in and get Damian.”
“Indeed.” Alfred’s hand was on the door knob, when they heard a higher pinch voice rising up “You have still failed to explain to me the point of this music.”
Roy glanced at Alfred. “Then again, Never come between bats in a fight.”
“Indeed Master Harper.” Alfred nodded. He then turned to Lian. “There are still some chocolate chip cookies in the fridge, if you would like them.”
Roy rolled his eyes. “Alfred no one turns down your cookies.” At a crash from inside the room, he winced. “Except fighting bats!”
Alfred & the Batclan, he shows them the love they each need in their own way
While Alfred Pennyworth was undoubtedly not in the same intelligence league as his employer, he was definitely not stupid. He was an excellent student of the human condition, and in particular of the Bats.
He recognised better than anyone, certainly far better than they did themselves, the pain and the broken nature of his little family, and in his own way attempted to fix them.
With Master Bruce, the only way he could do this was by doing his duties. The only help Bruce would accept was in making sure he was fed, watered, patched up after fights and generally kept alive.
Sometimes he wondered if he was honestly doing anything that made a difference with this boy in a man’s body. Then he would see one of the other heroes attempting to patch themselves up or being cared for by their sidekicks, and decide he must be.
Master Dick was different. Dick needed human contact, reassurance in the same way that he needed oxygen or food. Alfred has never been the physical affectionate type, but He offers hugs, cookies and milk and reassurance almost every night and day for as long as Dick is in the manner. He wishes in the long term that had been enough to undo Master Bruce’s unintentional scars.
Jason was different. To Jason hugs, any physical contact really, represented a threat. The one time he saw anyone try it, Jason froze a look of complete terror on his face for a second, before lashing out blindly to escape the hold. Alfred longed to get hold of whoever had damaged a small boy that much.
Jason, however, thrived on the boundaries. Once he had tested them and knew where they were, he was fine. Not quite no trouble, he was a bat after all, but fine.
Unfortunately, that was...not a period of great stability for anyone. Between the despicable actions of Rev. Dean and Brother Blood, Jason saw both Batman and Nightwing broken by a villain. No one, before or since had ever succeeded as strongly.
Alfred had tried to keep the stability going at home, but Bruce’s variation in the field was confusing Jason. After the incident with Garzonas (which Alfred knows Jason was innocent of) he decides his only choice is to stop Jason being Robin until Master Bruce recovers. The plan unfortunately back fires spectacularly and Alfred knows he will carry the guilt of Jason’s death for life.
For Master Timothy also, human contact was a strange sensation. Alfred doubted that Tim had Master Jason’s...reasons for his reactions, he was simply not used to it.
No, what Master Timothy required was reassurance that you would remain. That you would not abandon him. So Alfred comes down to the cave before patrol and makes sure he is about when they return, whether they need him or not. He bakes snacks and makes sandwiches, bringing them down when the young master is working in the cave. He cannot stop others from leaving, but at least he can make sure he does not.
Miss Stephanie is a mistake, and he has no idea why Master Bruce chose her, unless it was to annoy Master Timothy. He does his best, but she is too determined to impress Master Bruce, to earn his respect. He has no idea how to tell her, to show that to earn it; she must earn it for herself.
Master Damian is...a trial, to put it mildly. It was as if someone had selected the most difficult qualities of his predecessors and mixed them together. He certainly has no doubts about the boy’s parentage.
But, no matter how trying Damian is, he is a very intelligent child, who has lost both his father and his mother within a few months of each other. And is scared the nearest thing he has to a family will leave him now.
So Alfred, in spite of the pain it causes him, remains in the house and counties as though nothing has changed. It reminds him of a poster from his youth, keep calm and carry on, even though some mornings it takes all his energy to get out of bed.
And slowly, subtlety, Damian begins to respond to this. Not obliviously, no never that, but he is willing to show Alfred he understands and appreciates what’s going on.
Alfred sighs, allowing himself to hope that this once, he will be able to fix a bat.
Jason Todd/Tim Drake, running out of time
If you can’t find a kidnap victim within the first 12 hours, then your chances of finding them alive drop by 50%.
Jason remembers this statistic from his Robin days, and knows that the longer the victim is missing, then the lower the chances of finding them alive. He doesn’t know what the stats are if the victim has been presumed dead by everyone else from the start, but he can’t imagine they’re good.
Especially as it’s being nearly a year.
Nervously, he glances at Tim, asleep at his side. He no longer knows if Bruce is alive, not even sure he ever believed it, but he knows that Tim needs to believe Bruce is alive. Needs to believe that they’re going to find him. To take him back to Gotham, upstart Damian and Grayson and return things to the way they were.
The trouble is, the longer they keep doing this, the more obvious it becomes of just how hopeless the task is. And Jason is getting worried about what Baby Bird will do when he realises that.
Next to him, Tim mutters something, shifting slightly. Jason sighs.
He knows they’re running out of time, but that doesn’t mean they should stop. There’s always a chance, no matter how small.
And he’ll do everything in his power to make sure Tim remembers that.
Bruce Wayne, Jim Gordon, his parents never died and he was never Batman
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you back again.”
Bruce shrugged. “Yeah, Well, turns out, he’s still my father. No matter what.”
Gordon watched as the young man chewed on his lips, remembering that look all too well, when they had come for Thomas Wayne. Nothing had ever being proven, of course, but Jim had known when he looked into those eyes that were too old for their face, that it had been true.
“Where the hell did the kid find the gun?”
The question is rhetorical, and Gordon leaves it that way. Bruce Wayne knows Gotham’s dark side better than anyone, he knows exactly how and where the kid could have found the gun that shot Thomas Wayne. Could probably tell you even how much it cost, and where the kid would have ditched it too.
Jim’s read the articles that Bruce’s…husband, he supposes has written on the Wayne Foundation’s work. They shock him, even though he deals with the reality of them on a daily basis. Kent’s won some prizes for it, not that it actually seems to have made much difference in Gotham.
“How are the boys?” he asks, more for something to say.
“Good. With a sitter.” Bruce mutters. “Well, Tim, Lian and Damian are. Jason’s in detention,
Dick’s on call and Roy’s at an AA meeting. Left messages for them.”
“They weren’t close to your father?”
Bruce snorted. “After the way he treated me and my mother, you think I’d let him anywhere near them?”
“You’re here aren’t you?”
“Yes.” The mutter is drawn out and unwilling. Jim sits down beside him to wait.
*****
Marvel/DCU, Bucky Barnes/Jason Todd, connection (Steve Rogers' POV)
People say I should interfere. Take steps to stop it.
They tell me the kid’s a killer, beyond the pale, beyond hope, beyond redemption.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe he is.
But if he is, then so’s Bucky, and I can’t believe that.
I remember the first time I had a hint of the missions that they were using Bucky from. I came into the tent, to find him pulling off a jacket, covered in blood. Folding it up neatly, a military brat to the core. He looked up as I came in.
Almost identical situation to the one the comics claim was how we met, except the roles are reversed.
He made some joke, or comment, I don’t remember, I wasn’t really listening, looking away.
What I remember is the way the eyes looked at me in that instant. The way they asked why I didn’t stop them, didn’t protect, why I let this happen.
I think I made some reply and stepped back out. Namor found me throwing up in a trash can bout an hour later.
I look at this kid, this Jason, and I see the same questions in his eyes. Bucky’s got his head around what happened back then. And if he can even make the tiniest bit of difference to this kid, then we have to give them a chance.
Maybe they’re sleeping together, maybe they’re not. Maybe they’re just holding each other though the nightmares, I don’t know and I don’t care. They understand each other in a way the rest of us can’t.
And for the moment, that’s what they need.
DCU/Marvel, Jason Todd/Bucky Barnes, "So, you celebrate your Death Day?"
“So you celebrate it?” Bucky asked, looking confused.
“Yeph.”
“The day you died.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you?”
“No.” Bucky actually did all he could not to think about that day.
“You should.” Jason said, with a shrug. “It’s kinda like your birthday, literally in your case.”
His metallic hand tightened around the can, almost crushing it. This…this was a mistake.
“Hey, Don’t go.” He turns around at the small scared note in the kid’s voice. “I just thought you, of all people, you’d get this.”
He doesn’t. he can’t understand why you’d want to commemorate something as terrible. His death would at least have been clean and relatively painless, slipping into unconsciousness from either shock or hypothermia, before it happened. Hadn’t really had time to realize what was going on, to be afraid.
Jason had been beaten to death. He’s seen that happen enough to know it’s a horrible way to die, that the victim knows exactly what is happening to them. He doesn’t know if Jason remembers the explosion that actually killed (though his chances of surviving with those injuries were small to start with. Alfred slipped him a copy of the autopsy report, with a note threatening worse if he hurt Jason), but he’s sat up with enough nightmares to make him think it’s likely.
He can’t understand why anyone would want to celebrate such an horrendous event.
But then he looks into Jason’s eyes and sees the reason. Jason needs to celebrate it, because he can’t deal with it any other way.
With a sigh, Bucky retakes his seat.
“Fine, but we’re not doing this on my death day.”
“Relax.” Jason grins wickedly. “Sure we can come up with something much more fun by then.”
