Entry tags:
Two More Schmoopy DC Comic Ficlets
Title: Pre-heat
Author:
saone77
Summary: Even superheros get cravings.
Pairings: Dick/Clark
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: PG
Warnings: Not betad, grammarians beware.
Word Count: 593
Disclaimer: This is indulgent, cracktastic fiction.
Notes: Written for the cooking together square on my Schmoop Bingo card.
"Are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, Alfred won't mind, right?"
Dick looks up from the neat, precise lettering on the recipe card to stare at the fidgety Kryptonian standing by the refrigerator. "Yes, Clark, Alfred will definitely mind. I'm sure he'll be showing up any second now with his Butler-rangs to strike fear into our cowardly, chocolate-craving hearts."
Clark looks annoyed, but that's a significant improvement over the slightly terrified vibe he was giving off a second ago. "I remember the good old days when you used to show me at least a modicum of respect," he says, crossing his arms over his massive chest and putting on his best 'stern' face.
Dick rolls his eyes. "I also used to call you 'sir'. That ship has sailed." He stops for a moment, a devilish thought coming to mind and a smile to match it forming on his face. "Unless," he says slowly, "you're into that kind of thing."
It takes a moment for Clark - the giant, blue boyscout that he is - to fully grasp the meaning behind Dick's words. He blushes, and Dick's delighted laughs fills the apartment's tiny kitchen.
"You are a bad man, Richard Grayson," Clark says.
"You love me," Dick says with complete confidence. Because it's true, Clark does love him. And they may have had some rough patches over the past year, mostly involving Lois, or Bruce, and on one memorable occasion Lois and Bruce. As though the weight of their combined disapproving stares was enough to make Dick and Clark change their minds - it wasn't - but Dick has never doubted Clark's feelings or devotion towards him. "And mark my words, I know you have at least one kink, and I will discover it someday. But, until then," he holds up the recipe card, "chocolate is supposed to be an aphrodisiac."
Clark snorts, but he doesn't argue. "Right. What do we need?"
Dick reads off the card, and they get to work, moving around the small space like they were choreographed. Eggs, flour, sugar... Dick sifts the dry ingredients while Clark uses his heat vision to melt some Hershey mini kisses. Clark spends a few futile minutes searching for the Pam before deciding to make do with butter.
The pan goes into the oven, and Dick sets the timer on the microwave. "Okay, we've got thirty-five minutes, give or take the results of a toothpick test," he says, raising an eyebrow and giving Clark his best come-hither look, which is pretty damn come-hithery. "Whatever should we do?"
Clark laughs. He reaches out for Dick and pulls him close. "Incorrigible," he says before planting a kiss against Dick's mouth. "Insatiable." Another kiss. "Indomitable." This kiss is longer than the others, and as Dick seems to melt into him, Clark strengthens his hold.
"Mmmm," Dick purrs, "you know how much I love it when you pull out your five dollar words. Now, unless you've gotten over your thing about sex in the kitchen--"
"My parents eat on this table, Dick!"
"Then I suggest we take this to the bedroom. We've got," Dick arches around to check the clock, "thirty-one minutes. You up for it?"
Clark smirks, and with a burst of superspeed they're in the bedroom. Dick laughs delightedly at his eagerness, and Clark feeling pretty damn joyful himself. There's just one thing that's still nagging at him, though.
"Dick," there's something like guilt on Clark's face as he looks toward the direction of the kitchen. "You're sure Alfred doesn't mind us having his recipe?"
end
Title: Fate
Author:
saone77
Summary: Do you believe?
Pairings: Dick/Tim
Fandom: DC Comics
Warnings: Not betad, grammarians beware.
Word Count: 620
Disclaimer: This is indulgent, cracktastic fiction.
Notes: Written for the soulmates square on my Schmoop Bingo card.
"Do you believe in fate?"
Dick's first instinct is to play off such a serious question - No, but I believe in Dr. Fate - and if Tim didn't look so solemn and pensive he probably would. Instead, Dick swallows down his natural smartassed-ness and focuses all of his attention on his partner.
"I... don't know," he says truthfully. "I've never given it much thought." He wants to follow up with a question, to ask Tim why he's asking, what's going on in that freakishly intelligent brain of his. He stays mum though, knowing that Tim will reveal what he wants, when he wants, and not a moment sooner, regardless of any prodding. It's a Tuesday morning and the Cave is cool, and quiet, and empty, save for the two of them. Dick can be patient. He doesn't have to wait for long, though.
"It's just," Tim sighs, "don't you think it's odd?"
Dick raises an eyebrow and lets a small smirk form. "You want to clarify that, Red Robin?"
Tim rolls his eyes, and huffs a bit. "Us. Don't you think what happened with us is odd?"
Dick feels his stomach clench. 'Odd' is one word to describe their relationship, though he never thought Tim would be the one using it. "It's different," Dick says cautiously, "but good, right?"
"Of course it's good," Tim says. A delightful flush stains his cheeks, and the look he gives Dick is almost lascivious. "It's really good. But," he pauses and his leer turns into an adorable little frown, "weird. I mean, think about it. Everything between us, the fact that we know each other at all, hinged on my absentee parents deciding, on a whim, to take me to a circus when I was four years old."
Dick relaxes. He gets where Tim's going now, and yeah, the coincidences in their history are kind of odd - that he should loose his parents, and find his future partner the very same night that a promised acrobatic trick would lead an older Tim to realize just who was behind Robin's mask, and consequently the name of the infamous Batman, and that Tim himself would one day wear Robin's colors.
"If you had just walked by-" Tim cuts himself off, and shakes his head. "Why did you stop? You couldn't have greeted every kid that came to see you."
"No," Dick says. Most of that night is still a blur. He remembers his parents, of course. Everything after their fall is in stark relief, and always will be. But the time before the performance, when he was last innocent and carefree, is hazy. "You're right. I didn't greet every kid I saw. In fact, I didn't usually talk to anyone before the show." He shakes his head. Why had he stopped and talk to Tim, let alone promise him a quad?
Tim smiles, just a bit. "I guess I was special," he says. He reaches out a hand and Dick automatically moves towards him.
"Still are," Dick says, wrapping his arms around Tim's waist. "Maybe I'm reevaluating my opinion. I'm not usually one for the metaphysical, but it's kind of nice to think that with all the evil in this world, and all the horrors we've both faced, that something made sure the two of us would have each other."
"Mmmm. If you believe in that kind of stuff."
Dick raises an eyebrow. "Wait. You're saying, even after your little revelation, that you don't believe in fate?"
"I don't know," Tim says. He thinks for a minute, and a devilish smirk appears on his face. "But I believe in Dr. Fate."
Dick laughs, long and loud. "Yeah," he hiccups, "we're definitely meant to be."
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Summary: Even superheros get cravings.
Pairings: Dick/Clark
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: PG
Warnings: Not betad, grammarians beware.
Word Count: 593
Disclaimer: This is indulgent, cracktastic fiction.
Notes: Written for the cooking together square on my Schmoop Bingo card.
"Are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, Alfred won't mind, right?"
Dick looks up from the neat, precise lettering on the recipe card to stare at the fidgety Kryptonian standing by the refrigerator. "Yes, Clark, Alfred will definitely mind. I'm sure he'll be showing up any second now with his Butler-rangs to strike fear into our cowardly, chocolate-craving hearts."
Clark looks annoyed, but that's a significant improvement over the slightly terrified vibe he was giving off a second ago. "I remember the good old days when you used to show me at least a modicum of respect," he says, crossing his arms over his massive chest and putting on his best 'stern' face.
Dick rolls his eyes. "I also used to call you 'sir'. That ship has sailed." He stops for a moment, a devilish thought coming to mind and a smile to match it forming on his face. "Unless," he says slowly, "you're into that kind of thing."
It takes a moment for Clark - the giant, blue boyscout that he is - to fully grasp the meaning behind Dick's words. He blushes, and Dick's delighted laughs fills the apartment's tiny kitchen.
"You are a bad man, Richard Grayson," Clark says.
"You love me," Dick says with complete confidence. Because it's true, Clark does love him. And they may have had some rough patches over the past year, mostly involving Lois, or Bruce, and on one memorable occasion Lois and Bruce. As though the weight of their combined disapproving stares was enough to make Dick and Clark change their minds - it wasn't - but Dick has never doubted Clark's feelings or devotion towards him. "And mark my words, I know you have at least one kink, and I will discover it someday. But, until then," he holds up the recipe card, "chocolate is supposed to be an aphrodisiac."
Clark snorts, but he doesn't argue. "Right. What do we need?"
Dick reads off the card, and they get to work, moving around the small space like they were choreographed. Eggs, flour, sugar... Dick sifts the dry ingredients while Clark uses his heat vision to melt some Hershey mini kisses. Clark spends a few futile minutes searching for the Pam before deciding to make do with butter.
The pan goes into the oven, and Dick sets the timer on the microwave. "Okay, we've got thirty-five minutes, give or take the results of a toothpick test," he says, raising an eyebrow and giving Clark his best come-hither look, which is pretty damn come-hithery. "Whatever should we do?"
Clark laughs. He reaches out for Dick and pulls him close. "Incorrigible," he says before planting a kiss against Dick's mouth. "Insatiable." Another kiss. "Indomitable." This kiss is longer than the others, and as Dick seems to melt into him, Clark strengthens his hold.
"Mmmm," Dick purrs, "you know how much I love it when you pull out your five dollar words. Now, unless you've gotten over your thing about sex in the kitchen--"
"My parents eat on this table, Dick!"
"Then I suggest we take this to the bedroom. We've got," Dick arches around to check the clock, "thirty-one minutes. You up for it?"
Clark smirks, and with a burst of superspeed they're in the bedroom. Dick laughs delightedly at his eagerness, and Clark feeling pretty damn joyful himself. There's just one thing that's still nagging at him, though.
"Dick," there's something like guilt on Clark's face as he looks toward the direction of the kitchen. "You're sure Alfred doesn't mind us having his recipe?"
end
Title: Fate
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Summary: Do you believe?
Pairings: Dick/Tim
Fandom: DC Comics
Warnings: Not betad, grammarians beware.
Word Count: 620
Disclaimer: This is indulgent, cracktastic fiction.
Notes: Written for the soulmates square on my Schmoop Bingo card.
"Do you believe in fate?"
Dick's first instinct is to play off such a serious question - No, but I believe in Dr. Fate - and if Tim didn't look so solemn and pensive he probably would. Instead, Dick swallows down his natural smartassed-ness and focuses all of his attention on his partner.
"I... don't know," he says truthfully. "I've never given it much thought." He wants to follow up with a question, to ask Tim why he's asking, what's going on in that freakishly intelligent brain of his. He stays mum though, knowing that Tim will reveal what he wants, when he wants, and not a moment sooner, regardless of any prodding. It's a Tuesday morning and the Cave is cool, and quiet, and empty, save for the two of them. Dick can be patient. He doesn't have to wait for long, though.
"It's just," Tim sighs, "don't you think it's odd?"
Dick raises an eyebrow and lets a small smirk form. "You want to clarify that, Red Robin?"
Tim rolls his eyes, and huffs a bit. "Us. Don't you think what happened with us is odd?"
Dick feels his stomach clench. 'Odd' is one word to describe their relationship, though he never thought Tim would be the one using it. "It's different," Dick says cautiously, "but good, right?"
"Of course it's good," Tim says. A delightful flush stains his cheeks, and the look he gives Dick is almost lascivious. "It's really good. But," he pauses and his leer turns into an adorable little frown, "weird. I mean, think about it. Everything between us, the fact that we know each other at all, hinged on my absentee parents deciding, on a whim, to take me to a circus when I was four years old."
Dick relaxes. He gets where Tim's going now, and yeah, the coincidences in their history are kind of odd - that he should loose his parents, and find his future partner the very same night that a promised acrobatic trick would lead an older Tim to realize just who was behind Robin's mask, and consequently the name of the infamous Batman, and that Tim himself would one day wear Robin's colors.
"If you had just walked by-" Tim cuts himself off, and shakes his head. "Why did you stop? You couldn't have greeted every kid that came to see you."
"No," Dick says. Most of that night is still a blur. He remembers his parents, of course. Everything after their fall is in stark relief, and always will be. But the time before the performance, when he was last innocent and carefree, is hazy. "You're right. I didn't greet every kid I saw. In fact, I didn't usually talk to anyone before the show." He shakes his head. Why had he stopped and talk to Tim, let alone promise him a quad?
Tim smiles, just a bit. "I guess I was special," he says. He reaches out a hand and Dick automatically moves towards him.
"Still are," Dick says, wrapping his arms around Tim's waist. "Maybe I'm reevaluating my opinion. I'm not usually one for the metaphysical, but it's kind of nice to think that with all the evil in this world, and all the horrors we've both faced, that something made sure the two of us would have each other."
"Mmmm. If you believe in that kind of stuff."
Dick raises an eyebrow. "Wait. You're saying, even after your little revelation, that you don't believe in fate?"
"I don't know," Tim says. He thinks for a minute, and a devilish smirk appears on his face. "But I believe in Dr. Fate."
Dick laughs, long and loud. "Yeah," he hiccups, "we're definitely meant to be."
no subject
Neat! Loved Dick and Clark bonding over chocolate especially. Something very Xander-ish about that one ;)
no subject
no subject
\0/
no subject
I share your pain. I just love the idea of those two together with Dick being all free-spirited and playful and Clark trying to stay staid and serious and utterly failing - like the giant goof he is - in the warmth of Dick's affectionate nature. Dick would be good for Clark. *nods firmly*
If you're interested in angsty pre-slash, here's something (http://saone77.livejournal.com/17444.html#cutid1) I wrote years ago (2004, omg) right after Blockbuster destroyed Dick's apartment building in the Nightwing series. I was going to write a follow-up but then I went through one of my semi-annual being completely disgusted with all comics everywhere phases and kind of shelved it. :/
no subject
I like that you see Dick as giving something worthwhile to Clark, too-not just one way, a needy recipient.