Random Ficlet

[saone]

Never even thought about this pairing before, yet look what happened when my generator spit them out.


No beta... No idea how this came about...


Tim knows he has this thing for older, dangerous men
in positions of authority, but he's afraid this is
taking it to a new extreme. This guy's *old*. Way
older than Bruce. Older than his dad, even. But when
he talks this amazing British accent comes out and
slithers down Tim's spine.

"Are you all right?" The man asks, and really
shouldn't the guy in the mask and cape with all the
assorted explosive goodies stuffed in his belt be
asking that?

Then again, Tim's just a wee bit confused about...
well... almost everything at the moment, so he
supposes he could be excused from acting all heroic
for minute or two. "That... that was..."

"A vampire." The man announces in a clipped, yet dead
sexy, tone.

"But, they're not-"

"Dear boy, if you say 'real', I'm afraid I shall quite
regret having saved you from becoming a midnight
snack."

"Sorry." Tim says sheepishly. "It's just kind of...
I mean, I've seen a lot of stuff, believe me, but
never something like that." He stares at the pile of
dust.

"Yes. I think they mostly stay away from your type.
Something about people with the ability to shoot heat
beams out of their eye sockets, and lift buses with
their pinkie fingers puts them off."

"Oh." Tim wonders how he's going to explain this to
Bruce. 'Hey, I saw some guy shoot another guy with a
crossbow, but don't worry, the second guy was already
dead. Kinda.' He put a green gloved hand up to his
face and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Suddenly, with a speed and stealth that belied his
age, the man's beside him. "Are you quite sure
you're all right?"

Tim catches the subtle scent of some sort of cologne.
He resists leaning in for a better whiff. "No, no,
I'm fine. Just, wondering how I'm going to explain
this."

"You could always say he was a roving gang member on
PCP." At Tim's dubious look the Brit lifts one
shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "You'd be surprised
at what people'll swallow if they're too afraid of the
truth."

"That might work for the general public, but the guy I
work for is..."

"A more exacting master?"

"Uh..." Tim can feel heat rising in his cheeks.
"Well... that is to say... Sorta."

The man looks heavenward and sighs. "I had hoped
young people would be a touch more civilized on the
east coast."

Tim scowls.

"Have there been any disturbances in your cemeteries?"
He watches Tim shake his head. "Then I would say
this was an anomaly. Your town is rather well known
for having an... interesting element. No, I'd say it
was either incredible stupid, or was just passing
through on it's way to that lovely little cesspool
south of here."

Tim makes a mental note to tell Dick to stock up on
garlic. Just in case. "Oh. Well, okay then. But,
if it wasn't an anomaly?"

The man seems to measure him for a moment. "As I
said, watch the graveyards. And, the morgues. Be
suspicious of a sudden abundance of neck wounds. And,
here," The man pulls a pen and a piece of paper out
of one of the pockets of his jacket. "Here's the
number to a cell. It's not mine, I don't care for the
bloody things. But, if there's trouble, ring, and ask
to speak to Giles."

"Giles." Tim takes the paper and tucks it into one of
the pouches on his belt. He smiles. "Thanks."

"Yes. Well. Quite."


Tim Drake (Robin) / Rupert Giles (BtVS)

Comments

[saone77.livejournal.com]

Dear. LORD. What Zort said. *hrowwwrrrr*

Hee! Yes, I was plesantly surprised by just how yummy those two turned out. *G*