THE DADDY OF THE MACK (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} favyan) wrote,@ 2005-04-27 05:29:00 |
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fic: Games
Title: Games
Author: favyan
Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson
Fandom: DC Comics
Theme: 3. jolt!
Disclaimer: Characters and other such trademarked things still aren't mine.
Warning: Slight chan warning (No actual age mentioned, so 18 could be presumed, if preferred). Nothing heavy, though. Slash, obviously.
Summary: Sometimes you're forced to outgrow things.
Even before his parents died Dick didn't play normal games as a child. Sometimes they were the same games most children his age would play, like tag or hide and seek, only his variations tended to be in the air.
After the deaths of John and Mary Grayson most of those games were put aside, either willingly or as an act of necessity. Training, school and fighting crime rarely left any time for aerial hide and seek.
So he created new games.
One that he was particularly fond of was trying to sneak up on Bruce. He's do it at random, hoping for better odds, sometimes trying every day for a week only to stop for a month or so before jumping out from behind a bookcase.
Bruce himself encouraged this, seeing it as a way for Dick to hone his stealth and man hunting skills and occasionally went on the offensive to help increase Dick's awareness. Not nearly as much as Dick and with a much higher success rate, but enough to make it obvious that he was playing along, even if Bruce rationalized it by calling it training.
Slowly it evolved, silent rules being made as they went along, as they aged. Sometimes just startling the other counted as a win, sometimes just a tag was needed to count for a win, but the one tagging had to lay his whole hand on the other. Occasionally the attempt to tag escalated and a down was necessary to determine a winner.
More often than not Dick failed, but they both knew that he was nothing if not persistent. He tried again and again, only succeeding when the win only required a tag or to surprise the other, making it a rather momentous occasion when he managed a down.
To be quite fair, Dick had an advantage and knew it going into the game. Bruce had gone three days without sleep and would have tried for a fourth if Alfred hadn't discreetly left books on Bruce's desk, open with the pages turned to passages on sleep deprivation psychosis. That probably wouldn't have been enough on it's own, but as he gathered the books up and put them away Alfred gave an apology for taking the books down, explaining that he was just preparing for the coming days.
Forfeiting his work for the evening, Bruce left the study, navigating his way to his rooms mostly by memory as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was tired. He was distracted. It was the chance Dick had been waiting for.
Adolescence helped to elongate his body, but now, nearing the end of that last phase of childhood, it was obvious that he would always be on the short side. Dick was comfortable with that, though. With his unique style of fighting mixed with acrobatics, the less height he had meant more room to maneuver, giving him an advantage.
But one more inch and his hand would have pressed flat against Bruce's back.
Despite being faster, when his fingers brushed Bruce's back he didn't have enough time to make it a full tag before there was a hand on his wrist and he had to pull back before the grip could tighten beyond his breaking.
A fast lunge as Bruce turned to face Dick, one hand extended to end the game. Dick grabbed Bruce's wrist, mimicking the man's previous action. Adding his weight to the spin, he drew in close, the added speed and force getting Bruce off balance just enough so that when Dick let go and leapt forward, he managed to knock Bruce off his feet.
He rode Bruce down, a triumphant cry coming from his lips until the floor knocked the last of it out.
Years! He had been trying for years! Success was sweet enough to warrant another jubilant shout mixed with laughter before Dick cut himself off with an excited kiss to Bruce's lips.
The kiss in itself was perfectly innocent. Just a way of sharing his enthusiasm, the same way one may kiss someone who came up with the brilliant plan you needed just in time to save the day. At least that was what it was meant as.
Firm pressure for the slightest moment, then a strong hand fell upon the back of Dick's neck, keeping him from drawing away, pulling him in even more so his lips practically crushed the youth's. The briefest hint of hunger and want seeped through as both sets of lips began to part, but from who was the question.
Then, with a small jolt, the hand was off Dick's neck and both were on his shoulders, pushing him away just as Dick did the same to Bruce, leaving both looking partially confused but mostly just startled.
Not talking about it was easy. They knew how to not talk. All they had to do was stand as if nothing had happened and go their different ways. And the only indication of the whole ordeal left over was that both noticed that the other didn't bother with the game anymore.
cross-posted to![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
30_kisses
Title: Games
Author: favyan
Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson
Fandom: DC Comics
Theme: 3. jolt!
Disclaimer: Characters and other such trademarked things still aren't mine.
Warning: Slight chan warning (No actual age mentioned, so 18 could be presumed, if preferred). Nothing heavy, though. Slash, obviously.
Summary: Sometimes you're forced to outgrow things.
Even before his parents died Dick didn't play normal games as a child. Sometimes they were the same games most children his age would play, like tag or hide and seek, only his variations tended to be in the air.
After the deaths of John and Mary Grayson most of those games were put aside, either willingly or as an act of necessity. Training, school and fighting crime rarely left any time for aerial hide and seek.
So he created new games.
One that he was particularly fond of was trying to sneak up on Bruce. He's do it at random, hoping for better odds, sometimes trying every day for a week only to stop for a month or so before jumping out from behind a bookcase.
Bruce himself encouraged this, seeing it as a way for Dick to hone his stealth and man hunting skills and occasionally went on the offensive to help increase Dick's awareness. Not nearly as much as Dick and with a much higher success rate, but enough to make it obvious that he was playing along, even if Bruce rationalized it by calling it training.
Slowly it evolved, silent rules being made as they went along, as they aged. Sometimes just startling the other counted as a win, sometimes just a tag was needed to count for a win, but the one tagging had to lay his whole hand on the other. Occasionally the attempt to tag escalated and a down was necessary to determine a winner.
More often than not Dick failed, but they both knew that he was nothing if not persistent. He tried again and again, only succeeding when the win only required a tag or to surprise the other, making it a rather momentous occasion when he managed a down.
To be quite fair, Dick had an advantage and knew it going into the game. Bruce had gone three days without sleep and would have tried for a fourth if Alfred hadn't discreetly left books on Bruce's desk, open with the pages turned to passages on sleep deprivation psychosis. That probably wouldn't have been enough on it's own, but as he gathered the books up and put them away Alfred gave an apology for taking the books down, explaining that he was just preparing for the coming days.
Forfeiting his work for the evening, Bruce left the study, navigating his way to his rooms mostly by memory as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was tired. He was distracted. It was the chance Dick had been waiting for.
Adolescence helped to elongate his body, but now, nearing the end of that last phase of childhood, it was obvious that he would always be on the short side. Dick was comfortable with that, though. With his unique style of fighting mixed with acrobatics, the less height he had meant more room to maneuver, giving him an advantage.
But one more inch and his hand would have pressed flat against Bruce's back.
Despite being faster, when his fingers brushed Bruce's back he didn't have enough time to make it a full tag before there was a hand on his wrist and he had to pull back before the grip could tighten beyond his breaking.
A fast lunge as Bruce turned to face Dick, one hand extended to end the game. Dick grabbed Bruce's wrist, mimicking the man's previous action. Adding his weight to the spin, he drew in close, the added speed and force getting Bruce off balance just enough so that when Dick let go and leapt forward, he managed to knock Bruce off his feet.
He rode Bruce down, a triumphant cry coming from his lips until the floor knocked the last of it out.
Years! He had been trying for years! Success was sweet enough to warrant another jubilant shout mixed with laughter before Dick cut himself off with an excited kiss to Bruce's lips.
The kiss in itself was perfectly innocent. Just a way of sharing his enthusiasm, the same way one may kiss someone who came up with the brilliant plan you needed just in time to save the day. At least that was what it was meant as.
Firm pressure for the slightest moment, then a strong hand fell upon the back of Dick's neck, keeping him from drawing away, pulling him in even more so his lips practically crushed the youth's. The briefest hint of hunger and want seeped through as both sets of lips began to part, but from who was the question.
Then, with a small jolt, the hand was off Dick's neck and both were on his shoulders, pushing him away just as Dick did the same to Bruce, leaving both looking partially confused but mostly just startled.
Not talking about it was easy. They knew how to not talk. All they had to do was stand as if nothing had happened and go their different ways. And the only indication of the whole ordeal left over was that both noticed that the other didn't bother with the game anymore.
cross-posted to
30_kisses
