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thete1, The places you're not.
Roy and Babs
She doesn't drink often.
This has nothing to do with the loss of control, or whether she likes alcohol or not. Like most things, what it comes down to is the job. Babs has never dealt with hangovers well, and although she knows how to cope with them best (spirits, no red wine, vitamin B before she goes out, a pint of water when she gets back, Gatorade and fried food in the morning) there's rarely enough time that she can afford one.
She's starting to associate drinking with relative safety, relative stability. The kind that can last a whole 24 hours without needing personal attention.
Roy's pretty, and he's Dinah's boy, in a way that makes Babs feel older and pleasantly lecherous. And he's careful around her, which is only partly the chair and mostly the kind of healthy respect edged with fear and automatic appreciation that does wonder's for a girl's ego, when she's in the mood to let it. The kind of look that she normally only gets from people that actually know her. It makes her feel-- herself, if not a self she's felt in a while. She's willing to go with it for the moment. The comfort of being with someone who knows exactly how fucked up it is, and why they don’t have to (can’t afford to) think about it right now.
Everything will be-- better. Eventually. Or different, in familiar ways.
And Roy has a brand of denial that is, in several important ways, very different from the kind she's so familiar with, and while it's probably no less damaging in the long run…
…Well, in the short run, she's working her way through her second margarita, and feeling pretty good about it. "Are you feelingup to a little competition?" She says, putting her elbow on the table, wriggling her fingers.
"Huh." A nicely competitive glint in his eye, and joins her, clearing a little space either side of their linked hands. "You know what I pull, right?"
"110." She raises an eyebrow. "Less than Ollie. And he uses a real bow."
"Ouch."
"Don’t worry. I'll go easy." She puts a little bit more challenge into it, friendly and vicious.
It's hard. Roy uses his arms a lot, uses them in a way that requires practised strength, and most of the people she knows don’t need it in the same way. She shifts in her seat, getting a better angle.
"Ready when you are," Roy says, a little bit of a grin letting the strain show.
"Huh? Did you say something? I was distracted." A smile of her own, and training with Cass doesn't bring up this particular brand of machismo. Guys flexing their muscles, and she's glad that the margaritas are cushioning the nostalgia, enough for her to shift, let the shirt gape a little and Roy follows that movement.
His grip doesn't waver for a second, even if does take him a couple of moments before he can look up. Sharp grin and --"I miss the floppy hair," Dinah says -- focussed expression.
Her hand's starting to hurt, her elbow too, and she can feel the strain. Buts her back into it, grits her teeth.
Feels the back of her hand slam down on the table hard, and Roy's grinning, flexing his fingers and she can see the blood rush back into them.
She sticks her left arm on the table. "Two out of three."
He's got a strange look on his face, not exactly happy but not exactly not. It's an expression she knows from the other side, and she's not surprised when he shakes his head and says, "Sorry, flashbacks to my childhood," because she knows when that look means family.
Something that they're not thinking about.
She straightens up and finishes her drink.
"Not a bad memory," Roy says. "Probably even a good one, though-- huh." He shakes his head. "Sometimes I can see exactly how I turned out the way I have.' And there's enough self-deprecation, enough of it *genuine*, for Babs to force herself to resist the urge to--
Well, reach over and ruffle his hair, or grope him a little. Except she does have to look Dinah in the face in the morning, and she can’t quite tell if the thought makes her amused or uncomfortable.
She's not casual by nature, but it's tempting. The appeal of the physical, a *healthier* choice than most of her options and a way of thinking about what (who) isn't there while not-thinking. Roy could be persuaded. There's the same thing that's both a reason to and a reason *not* for both of them.
It would make it (more) awkward when Dick comes back, and she's petty enough to find that appealing, even if it shouldn't
She's been quiet too long, or thinking too much, because Roy gives what's probably a reassuring smile, to someone who can't see right through it. "You're right," he says. "They walk back or they get dragged back, but don't stay gone forever."
He'll come back to us, he's saying. But not to me, she thinks,a nd that's a careless though that doesn't even matter right now, that she wouldn't even think except...
She can see the absence like a ghost. It's not just Dick, but he's the bulk of it right now, focus for the hundred other little lacks anyone in this line of work carries. Roy's not as good at filling it with distractions when his guard is down, and his guard's a lot more down than hers is. Babs is aware, with varying degrees of amusement, that she personally would never drop her guard around herself, which must be close to what it's like being *Bruce*.
It's not always an uncomfortable thought.
Roy/Dick,Babs.
Bonus! Now with extra smut!
She recognises the background, one of the modified urban settings. Dick is on his knees, holding Roy against a wall, and she can’t see his face but--
Change camera angles, put the new one upon this screen and Dick's inches away from Roy's crotch, waiting, and then she can see his fingers come up and unzip Roy, pull him out and open his mouth.
First camera and zoom in, put the sound a little higher and Roy's muttering Dick's name, hands disappearing off-screen to. Huh. To pull Dick up and kiss him, which is surprising, given how desperate he looks, but--
Yeah, he's that kind of desperate, where he needs to pin dick or crawl inside him and make him--
Stay. Or be better. Or notice *something*. Hungry kisses like he's trying to swallow Dick's soul, which is a description best-avoided with Titans alumni. One hand gripping Dick's upper arm hard enough to bruise- she knows how strong those fingers are, the other disappearing between him and--
Searching for a better camera angle, and there really isn't one unless she's obvious about moving one around. She settles for a mid-distance side view and regrets Roy's long coat. She misjudged their relationship or --no, she just misjudged this aspect of its expression. She almost wishes Arsenal would stop kissing Dick, just so that she could get a better look at his expression.
Then Dick pulls his head away and she knows that expression well enough that seeing it like this makes her hurt and *want*, and then he's coming. Roy's watching him, still looking at him with that hunger that has *this as its method of expression, not its cause or solution.
And then Dick is moving to return the favour. Hand only, moving with confidence and Roy is pressing against the wall like he's being held there, when Dick is-- not kissing, not holding him, not doing anything except stroking him with confidence. It's not enough-- not even close to what Roy needs-- and she almost wants to break in to tell him, and then --Good boy-- Dick gets it, at least partially, because his free arm is moving to something that's closer to a hug. It's going around Arsenal with an awkwardness that makes her feel something between grief and guilt, because Dick has never lacked grace or comfort when it came to this kind of touch. Arm across your shoulder, around your waist or squeezing you tight, something that years of living with Bruce never managed to change, and now he's awkward, *uncertain* in it.
Arsenal leans in, head moving to rest against Dick. She can see Dick brace, and then relax. Dick is speaking, and even with the sound off she can hear the apology. She could shift a camera, get a better look so she can read his lips.
It's not meant for her. She makes sure the vid is being saved for future analysis, then switches off the monitors.
For
thete1, The places you're not.Roy and Babs
She doesn't drink often.
This has nothing to do with the loss of control, or whether she likes alcohol or not. Like most things, what it comes down to is the job. Babs has never dealt with hangovers well, and although she knows how to cope with them best (spirits, no red wine, vitamin B before she goes out, a pint of water when she gets back, Gatorade and fried food in the morning) there's rarely enough time that she can afford one.
She's starting to associate drinking with relative safety, relative stability. The kind that can last a whole 24 hours without needing personal attention.
Roy's pretty, and he's Dinah's boy, in a way that makes Babs feel older and pleasantly lecherous. And he's careful around her, which is only partly the chair and mostly the kind of healthy respect edged with fear and automatic appreciation that does wonder's for a girl's ego, when she's in the mood to let it. The kind of look that she normally only gets from people that actually know her. It makes her feel-- herself, if not a self she's felt in a while. She's willing to go with it for the moment. The comfort of being with someone who knows exactly how fucked up it is, and why they don’t have to (can’t afford to) think about it right now.
Everything will be-- better. Eventually. Or different, in familiar ways.
And Roy has a brand of denial that is, in several important ways, very different from the kind she's so familiar with, and while it's probably no less damaging in the long run…
…Well, in the short run, she's working her way through her second margarita, and feeling pretty good about it. "Are you feelingup to a little competition?" She says, putting her elbow on the table, wriggling her fingers.
"Huh." A nicely competitive glint in his eye, and joins her, clearing a little space either side of their linked hands. "You know what I pull, right?"
"110." She raises an eyebrow. "Less than Ollie. And he uses a real bow."
"Ouch."
"Don’t worry. I'll go easy." She puts a little bit more challenge into it, friendly and vicious.
It's hard. Roy uses his arms a lot, uses them in a way that requires practised strength, and most of the people she knows don’t need it in the same way. She shifts in her seat, getting a better angle.
"Ready when you are," Roy says, a little bit of a grin letting the strain show.
"Huh? Did you say something? I was distracted." A smile of her own, and training with Cass doesn't bring up this particular brand of machismo. Guys flexing their muscles, and she's glad that the margaritas are cushioning the nostalgia, enough for her to shift, let the shirt gape a little and Roy follows that movement.
His grip doesn't waver for a second, even if does take him a couple of moments before he can look up. Sharp grin and --"I miss the floppy hair," Dinah says -- focussed expression.
Her hand's starting to hurt, her elbow too, and she can feel the strain. Buts her back into it, grits her teeth.
Feels the back of her hand slam down on the table hard, and Roy's grinning, flexing his fingers and she can see the blood rush back into them.
She sticks her left arm on the table. "Two out of three."
He's got a strange look on his face, not exactly happy but not exactly not. It's an expression she knows from the other side, and she's not surprised when he shakes his head and says, "Sorry, flashbacks to my childhood," because she knows when that look means family.
Something that they're not thinking about.
She straightens up and finishes her drink.
"Not a bad memory," Roy says. "Probably even a good one, though-- huh." He shakes his head. "Sometimes I can see exactly how I turned out the way I have.' And there's enough self-deprecation, enough of it *genuine*, for Babs to force herself to resist the urge to--
Well, reach over and ruffle his hair, or grope him a little. Except she does have to look Dinah in the face in the morning, and she can’t quite tell if the thought makes her amused or uncomfortable.
She's not casual by nature, but it's tempting. The appeal of the physical, a *healthier* choice than most of her options and a way of thinking about what (who) isn't there while not-thinking. Roy could be persuaded. There's the same thing that's both a reason to and a reason *not* for both of them.
It would make it (more) awkward when Dick comes back, and she's petty enough to find that appealing, even if it shouldn't
She's been quiet too long, or thinking too much, because Roy gives what's probably a reassuring smile, to someone who can't see right through it. "You're right," he says. "They walk back or they get dragged back, but don't stay gone forever."
He'll come back to us, he's saying. But not to me, she thinks,a nd that's a careless though that doesn't even matter right now, that she wouldn't even think except...
She can see the absence like a ghost. It's not just Dick, but he's the bulk of it right now, focus for the hundred other little lacks anyone in this line of work carries. Roy's not as good at filling it with distractions when his guard is down, and his guard's a lot more down than hers is. Babs is aware, with varying degrees of amusement, that she personally would never drop her guard around herself, which must be close to what it's like being *Bruce*.
It's not always an uncomfortable thought.
Roy/Dick,Babs.
Bonus! Now with extra smut!
She recognises the background, one of the modified urban settings. Dick is on his knees, holding Roy against a wall, and she can’t see his face but--
Change camera angles, put the new one upon this screen and Dick's inches away from Roy's crotch, waiting, and then she can see his fingers come up and unzip Roy, pull him out and open his mouth.
First camera and zoom in, put the sound a little higher and Roy's muttering Dick's name, hands disappearing off-screen to. Huh. To pull Dick up and kiss him, which is surprising, given how desperate he looks, but--
Yeah, he's that kind of desperate, where he needs to pin dick or crawl inside him and make him--
Stay. Or be better. Or notice *something*. Hungry kisses like he's trying to swallow Dick's soul, which is a description best-avoided with Titans alumni. One hand gripping Dick's upper arm hard enough to bruise- she knows how strong those fingers are, the other disappearing between him and--
Searching for a better camera angle, and there really isn't one unless she's obvious about moving one around. She settles for a mid-distance side view and regrets Roy's long coat. She misjudged their relationship or --no, she just misjudged this aspect of its expression. She almost wishes Arsenal would stop kissing Dick, just so that she could get a better look at his expression.
Then Dick pulls his head away and she knows that expression well enough that seeing it like this makes her hurt and *want*, and then he's coming. Roy's watching him, still looking at him with that hunger that has *this as its method of expression, not its cause or solution.
And then Dick is moving to return the favour. Hand only, moving with confidence and Roy is pressing against the wall like he's being held there, when Dick is-- not kissing, not holding him, not doing anything except stroking him with confidence. It's not enough-- not even close to what Roy needs-- and she almost wants to break in to tell him, and then --Good boy-- Dick gets it, at least partially, because his free arm is moving to something that's closer to a hug. It's going around Arsenal with an awkwardness that makes her feel something between grief and guilt, because Dick has never lacked grace or comfort when it came to this kind of touch. Arm across your shoulder, around your waist or squeezing you tight, something that years of living with Bruce never managed to change, and now he's awkward, *uncertain* in it.
Arsenal leans in, head moving to rest against Dick. She can see Dick brace, and then relax. Dick is speaking, and even with the sound off she can hear the apology. She could shift a camera, get a better look so she can read his lips.
It's not meant for her. She makes sure the vid is being saved for future analysis, then switches off the monitors.
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no subject
Date: 2005-03-19 06:11 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2005-03-19 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-19 08:54 pm (UTC)I like her, but I don't understand her as well as you clearly do.
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Date: 2005-03-20 01:05 am (UTC)Completely Random
Date: 2005-06-03 02:21 am (UTC)Re: Completely Random
Date: 2005-06-04 01:38 pm (UTC)