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apparently I was in a suggestible mood
The lovely and talented Nonie Rider (who needs a livejournal of her own -- do you hear me, Nonie? Do you? The world at large needs your Batfic!) asked for this, or something like it. My brain started churning. This was the result.
Who needs random pairing generators?
Room for More
He moved like Roy, was the first thing Dick noticed.
He knew Dick was watching, was the second.
Dick suspected there wasn't much point to swinging ahead before confronting the stranger. He was right; the guy didn't see him coming, but neither was he surprised.
He stopped, rested one hand on his hip in a way that only had a little to do with the position of the gun holster under his motorcycle jacket. "What's this -- I have to pay a toll to pass through your town?"
Superficially, the man resembled Dick himself as much as Roy, with glossy black hair in a similar cut, and attention-holding pale eyes, which Dick couldn't quite tell the colour of in the alley's dim light. But he was paler even than Dick's nocturnal habits had made him, and his lopsided grin held little promise of honour or good intentions.
"Not exactly," Dick said. "What's your business here?"
"My own." Either this guy had experience being confronted with masked vigilantes, he'd been well-briefed, or he was damned quick on his feet.
"That depends." Dick flicked his gaze deliberately to the holstered gun under the jacket, the knife up the sleeve with the artificial limb, the backup weapons in his boots, then back to the interloper's face. "I can't let you kill anyone in my city."
The grin grew smugger. "And what will you do to make sure I don't? Follow me everywhere I go while I'm in this charming burg?"
"If necessary. But I doubt it will be." Dick was certain that, if he sent a live feed of the gunman's face to Oracle, she'd have a wanted-poster hit within seconds. He didn't send one. Instead, touching the edge of his mask with one finger, he took a snapshot for later research.
"Want my good side?"
Dick ignored the probe for information. "Give me your word that you won't use deadly force while you're... passing through."
"'Passing through?' What if I decide I want to settle down here?" He turned away from Dick, made a show of gazing up at the maze of fire escapes marking the building above them as having upper-floor apartments. "Know a good real estate agent?"
"You're passing through," Dick said, leaving all question out of the words.
The smug grin was back, edging into a leer. "Gonna chase me out, hm?" He swaggered back over to Dick, as close as he'd been when Dick first dropped to street level. Closer.
Closer.
"Or just ruin any incentive I might have to stay?"
Most people try to meet your eyes behind a mask's white-out lenses, but their focus wanders, groping for a reference point. This guy picked a spot and... he wasn't precisely meeting Dick's gaze, but he was damned close. From any greater distance the illusion would be perfect.
The guy stepped closer. Dick could see individual hairs of the stubble that shadowed the other man's jaw, feel the heat of his body softening the bite of pre-dawn chill on his own face. The pale eyes dropped to Dick's mouth; the full lips parted.
Dick stood still as the gunman made his approach, stepping in, leaning in.
When he slipped one arm around Dick's waist, Dick reached back just fast enough to grab the other end of the escrima stick as it came free of its holster. His other hand found a pressure point in the guy's throat, and Dick turned them and pinned the guy against the dew-damp brick wall.
The guy just grinned wide and inviting. He didn't pull hard enough on the escrima stick to dislodge Dick's grip, just enough to press it across the back of Dick's neck and draw him in closer.
It was hard to call it a kiss at all. The stranger bit at Dick's lips; Dick bit back when his tongue stabbed in, and got his chin licked and his cheek stubble-scraped before their mouths met again.
Dick shoved himself back from the wall and reclaimed his escrima stick.
Ignoring the grip Dick still had on his throat, the guy smirked, licked the corner of his mouth and then wiped it with the back of his hand.
"You have my word," he said.
Dick held him a moment longer, then stepped the rest of the way back and re-holstered his escrima stick. "I'll hold you to it."
Pulling his grapple-gun now would be inadvisable for all sorts of reasons. Dick kicked off a reasonably clean and sound section of wall, caught and somersaulted up from the railing of one fire escape, then another. "See you around," the guy said, voice pitched just loud enough to carry. And, as Dick flipped onto the roof of the building, he heard him add, "Nightwing."
He resisted the urge to ditch the rest of his patrol.
Instead, he used his grapple to traverse the dozen blocks to his bike at top speed, checking on the way that the tracer newly planted on the gunman's prosthesis was live. Then, he watched where his new friend was going for a moment before performing his own search for hits on the photo he'd taken.
While he waited, the tracer blip moved towards the waterfront.
A match came up, and he paged through the display. U.S. Government. Covert ops. Assassinations. Russia. Southeast Asia.
Guns. Lots of guns.
Interesting.
Dick got on his motorcycle, and opened a comm channel as he peeled out.
"Nightwing to Outsiders HQ. Arsenal, you in?"
[end]
Title from this quote: "I came out of the closet so I'd have room for more guns in there." Cited by David Hines here after he came across it at The Smallest Minority.
ETA: By request, I have specified the pairing in comments, for those who don't recognise Dick's new friend. Click and scroll carefully if you wish to avoid the spoiler.
Jack's other DC comics stories
all fanfiction by the Jack
or try some original fiction
Who needs random pairing generators?
Room for More
He moved like Roy, was the first thing Dick noticed.
He knew Dick was watching, was the second.
Dick suspected there wasn't much point to swinging ahead before confronting the stranger. He was right; the guy didn't see him coming, but neither was he surprised.
He stopped, rested one hand on his hip in a way that only had a little to do with the position of the gun holster under his motorcycle jacket. "What's this -- I have to pay a toll to pass through your town?"
Superficially, the man resembled Dick himself as much as Roy, with glossy black hair in a similar cut, and attention-holding pale eyes, which Dick couldn't quite tell the colour of in the alley's dim light. But he was paler even than Dick's nocturnal habits had made him, and his lopsided grin held little promise of honour or good intentions.
"Not exactly," Dick said. "What's your business here?"
"My own." Either this guy had experience being confronted with masked vigilantes, he'd been well-briefed, or he was damned quick on his feet.
"That depends." Dick flicked his gaze deliberately to the holstered gun under the jacket, the knife up the sleeve with the artificial limb, the backup weapons in his boots, then back to the interloper's face. "I can't let you kill anyone in my city."
The grin grew smugger. "And what will you do to make sure I don't? Follow me everywhere I go while I'm in this charming burg?"
"If necessary. But I doubt it will be." Dick was certain that, if he sent a live feed of the gunman's face to Oracle, she'd have a wanted-poster hit within seconds. He didn't send one. Instead, touching the edge of his mask with one finger, he took a snapshot for later research.
"Want my good side?"
Dick ignored the probe for information. "Give me your word that you won't use deadly force while you're... passing through."
"'Passing through?' What if I decide I want to settle down here?" He turned away from Dick, made a show of gazing up at the maze of fire escapes marking the building above them as having upper-floor apartments. "Know a good real estate agent?"
"You're passing through," Dick said, leaving all question out of the words.
The smug grin was back, edging into a leer. "Gonna chase me out, hm?" He swaggered back over to Dick, as close as he'd been when Dick first dropped to street level. Closer.
Closer.
"Or just ruin any incentive I might have to stay?"
Most people try to meet your eyes behind a mask's white-out lenses, but their focus wanders, groping for a reference point. This guy picked a spot and... he wasn't precisely meeting Dick's gaze, but he was damned close. From any greater distance the illusion would be perfect.
The guy stepped closer. Dick could see individual hairs of the stubble that shadowed the other man's jaw, feel the heat of his body softening the bite of pre-dawn chill on his own face. The pale eyes dropped to Dick's mouth; the full lips parted.
Dick stood still as the gunman made his approach, stepping in, leaning in.
When he slipped one arm around Dick's waist, Dick reached back just fast enough to grab the other end of the escrima stick as it came free of its holster. His other hand found a pressure point in the guy's throat, and Dick turned them and pinned the guy against the dew-damp brick wall.
The guy just grinned wide and inviting. He didn't pull hard enough on the escrima stick to dislodge Dick's grip, just enough to press it across the back of Dick's neck and draw him in closer.
It was hard to call it a kiss at all. The stranger bit at Dick's lips; Dick bit back when his tongue stabbed in, and got his chin licked and his cheek stubble-scraped before their mouths met again.
Dick shoved himself back from the wall and reclaimed his escrima stick.
Ignoring the grip Dick still had on his throat, the guy smirked, licked the corner of his mouth and then wiped it with the back of his hand.
"You have my word," he said.
Dick held him a moment longer, then stepped the rest of the way back and re-holstered his escrima stick. "I'll hold you to it."
Pulling his grapple-gun now would be inadvisable for all sorts of reasons. Dick kicked off a reasonably clean and sound section of wall, caught and somersaulted up from the railing of one fire escape, then another. "See you around," the guy said, voice pitched just loud enough to carry. And, as Dick flipped onto the roof of the building, he heard him add, "Nightwing."
He resisted the urge to ditch the rest of his patrol.
Instead, he used his grapple to traverse the dozen blocks to his bike at top speed, checking on the way that the tracer newly planted on the gunman's prosthesis was live. Then, he watched where his new friend was going for a moment before performing his own search for hits on the photo he'd taken.
While he waited, the tracer blip moved towards the waterfront.
A match came up, and he paged through the display. U.S. Government. Covert ops. Assassinations. Russia. Southeast Asia.
Guns. Lots of guns.
Interesting.
Dick got on his motorcycle, and opened a comm channel as he peeled out.
"Nightwing to Outsiders HQ. Arsenal, you in?"
[end]
Title from this quote: "I came out of the closet so I'd have room for more guns in there." Cited by David Hines here after he came across it at The Smallest Minority.
ETA: By request, I have specified the pairing in comments, for those who don't recognise Dick's new friend. Click and scroll carefully if you wish to avoid the spoiler.
Jack's other DC comics stories
all fanfiction by the Jack
or try some original fiction
request!
-Mari
Re: request!
The one-armed gunman is meant to be none other than Alex Krycek, of X-Files fame.
And of course he made Dick think of Roy. For many, many reasons...
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This was *fun* ::smiles gleefully::
and I'm now going back and forth between wondering just what, exactly, Everyone's Favorite Spy(tm) was doing in Gotham(Bludhaven?) and imagining just what, exactly, Dick needed from Roy at the end of the story.
oh - and I loved how Roy bracketed the story. It's nice to get to see how much space he really does take up in Dick's head.
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I could tell you why Alex was in the 'haven, but then he'd have to kill you.
Nightwing was probably calling Arsenal for *work* purposes, but I'm still really attached to the image of Dick calling Roy because Alex got him all hot and bothered. maybe it's both?
Are those two things ever really separate for Dick and Roy?
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Cool fic. Nicely integrated the two fandoms.
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I don't generally set out to write crossover fic, for a lot of reasons (the fact that I've posted two such in the last week is the most bizarre of coincidences) but sometimes my brain just seizes on an idea and won't let it go...
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*fails to offer anything more useful*
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But Eeeeee! Krycek! Oh, the images and the pretty that is Dick/Alex...
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Your icon should be subtitled 'things other than Dick which Roy pops wood for.'
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