#they were watching Gray Ghost and eating shredded cheese

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 112

Once again, you know who is underutilized in DCxDP crossovers? Battinson. Skrunkly shivering boi. Who we should definitely give children to care for. 

 Did you know that Jason canonically had a brother named Danny? Well you do now, and it should also be used more. 

 We all want to give Battinson a robin, so why not give him four for the price of two. He of course gets Dick from the circus- he’s never going to go into public again, this was the first time he’d gone to do something out of his comfort zone for a while and look how that turned out. 

 And on one of the nights that Dick has to stay home (Alfred insists he must finish his homework if he wants to go out on patrol) Bruce returns to the batmobile to find not one child, but two. Is Danny reincarnated? Just appeared one day? Who knows, but he’s here now and going to protect his little brother. 

 Bruce might have tears in his eyes when they both hit him in the kneecaps and bolt because even with the armor it still hurts. How he manages to grab both kids he’s not too sure, but he ends up getting them food after they put the tires back. He also doesn’t understand how he’s convinced them into the car but they’ve both conked out and maybe he’s panicking and needs Alfred- 

 D-Dick why is there another child here? He’s the neighbor, cool cool. W-what do you mean he’s home alone, he’s like, 4?? What do you mean he’s been alone for a week now???

…

Alfreeeeed-

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #battinson #Bruce is a skrunkly lil meow meow the kids feel bad about hitting #Danny felt bad the moment he got a taste of the dude's emotions #Selina returning to Gotham covered with cats clinging to her: #Bruce covered with several small children: #“I have a problem with strays” #Alfred is so tired #He comes back from getting groceries for dinner to three new children #all sprawled out on the couch with Dick and Bruce and a movie credits on in the background #they were watching Gray Ghost and eating shredded cheese #Dick a ten year old: Hi there tiny neighbor you are alone and that is bad so come with me please I have snacks #Tim a five year old who has never been taught stranger danger: omg sure Robin #Dick: What #Tim holding his hand: :) #Danny looking at Batman: He gonna cry :( #Jason: No he aint #Danny: You can feel the misery #Danny: It's like kicking a puppy :( #Jason: Shit u right #Both of them looking into the Batmobile now that the door is open: Why is there a box of coloring books and a kid carseat #Omg it's bat themed #There's also a blanket #Why yes it is for long patrols #Also random but I feel like Battinson would be aided by a longer cape #Let battinson become a batblob and disappear into a corner

[lookslikechill]

DW Valentine’s Special

I felt driven to write a little something for Valentine’s Day featuring Alistair Sheep and Miles Crawford, one of the Main couples, or arguably The Main Couple, in my novel-beast wip Daydream Walking.  I’m super happy with how it came out, to the point where I have to include it in my first draft, so I hope you enjoy it too!  Here is a playlist for them, and the writing is below the cut since it is rather long.

Come On Closer by Jem

You sit back now Just relax now I'll take care of you

Marlene On The Wall by Suzanne Vega

Observe the blood, the rose tattoo Of the fingerprints on me from you

Like Real People Do by Hozier

I had a thought, dear However scary

HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T by Fall Out Boy

The distance between us It sharpens me like a knife

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! by Cher

In my flat all alone How I hate to spend the evening on my own

Say Amen (Saturday Night) by Panic! At The Disco

Swear to God, I ain't ever gonna repent Mama, can I get another amen?

Shiver by Maroon 5

And I shiver when I hear your name I think about you, but it's not the same

Storm Song by Phildel

I'll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home.

My Moon My Man by Feist

Take it slow Take it easy on me Shed some light Shed some light on things

The Lightning Strike (What If This Storm Ends) by Snow Patrol

I want pinned down I want unsettled Rattle cage after cage Until my blood boils

NFWMB by Hozier

If I was born as a black thorn tree I'd wanna be felt by you, held by you Feel the power of your hand on me

Bonus Couple Song:  Your Man by Josh Parker Bonus Alistair Song: Little Pistol by Mother Mother Bonus Miles Song: Baby, You’re A Haunted House by Gerard Way

Content Warnings: Mentions of murder and death, some swearing.  Also the presence of a weapon. There is no smut here!!  But there is (hopefully) sexual tension, romance, and a good lot of kissing and touching.  

Alistair was in the small, well-lit break room at the tail end of a long day, with a lit cigarette in his right hand and a cup of joe in his left.  The shape of the room was long and narrow.  One long wall hosted a number of square windows through which the harsh, bright afternoon sunlight shone, while the other was taken up by a kitchen stove and one long counter with cabinets below.  On the stove sat a steaming percolator, on the counter beside the stove sat a wide, heavy ashtray, leaned against the counter next to the ashtray stood Alistair.  

He was tapping ashes off into the ashtray when Miles ambled his way in.  He had a way of moving that captured Alistair’s attention instantly; steady and confident, back straight, shoulders relaxed, pace consistent, like a well-trained hounddog at the height of his career.  Miles settled in front of the stove and into pouring himself some coffee.  “You should come home with me tonight,” he muttered, and jostled Alistair out of his thoughts.  He took a drag off his cigarette as anxiety crawled up his spine.

They had never existed together, intimately, outside of Alistair’s apartment, except for the smallest of hints or touches that could not possibly be seen or heard by another human being.  His apartment was safety, he knew every corner like he knew his own body, he knew the exits, he knew where he kept the knives, and he knew where every single dangerous creak, squeak, or groan existed in the furniture and in the floorboards and in the walls. “No,” he said on an exhale.

“Please,” Miles said without looking at him.  The clacking of the spoon against Miles’ cup as he stirred filled the room.  Was he being that loud on purpose?  Alistair couldn’t help sneaking a look toward the door, wide open to the rest of the department.

“Why?”

“You’ll like it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Trust me.”  Alistair worked his lips around the end of the cigarette, damp yet firm, and took another drag.  “I’ll pick you up.”

“No.”

“Fine, you can follow me.  Civilian cars, civilian clothes.”

Alistair hesitated.  Miles slurped coffee out of his mug.  A phone rung somewhere in the building and a car started outside.  Trust me.  He heaved a sigh and put out his cigarette.  “Okay.”  He dropped his voice further and looked Miles in the face for the first time since he’d entered the room.  “Thirty minutes after we’re off duty.  I’ll be parked on Gerard Street.”

Before Miles, with his curls and his staring, seeing eyes, could respond, Sinclair walked his stupid ass into the room, and declared: “Hey, guys!  What’s happening?”

“Murder!” Alistair just barely didn’t yell. “Just talking about murder!”

“Happens all the time,” Miles confirmed grimly as he refilled his cup.  “It’s really very unfortunate.”

Quickly becoming somber, Sinclair nodded.  “It’s true.  It’s very unfortunate.  Anyway, let me in on that coffee action, Crawford.”

At 6:30pm, Alistair was sitting in his Ford on Gerard Street, in regular, soot-gray trousers and jacket.  He’d managed to bathe, mostly to get rid of hat hair, and he hadn’t had a cigarette since dropping into his apartment.  He idly chewed on the inside of his cheek and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he scanned the street for Miles Crawford’s cream Hudson.

He stopped tapping and sat up a little straighter when he saw the Hudson turn off of Golding Street onto Gerard.  His car rumbled and chugged around him as Miles drove right past him without making eye contact or at all acknowledging his existence.  When he could see Miles approaching the end of the street in his mirror, he pulled out and around to follow.

His anxiety lessened as he followed Miles through and around city blocks and out into the outer expanses of Port Cassandra.  Soon the ocean and the city alike were obscured by trees both tall and numerous with thick underbrush groveling at their feet.  Not only did Alistair feel calmer, now he was able to feel a spot of anticipation, a spark of excitement about where Miles was leading him.  He had never been to Miles’ home, and he had never heard him speak of it either.

Eventually Miles pulled off the main road onto one both rougher and narrower, and Alistair followed.  The road wound through the trees, and in places the branches reached out and scraped against the sides and roof of his car.  He flinched only because of the noise, not because of the damage.  His car was not one that was in mint condition, nor was it very new.

The trees broke slightly, and through them he could see slivers of ocean, flashes of beach, and, finally, a stout log cabin, all sharp angles and natural grains and colors, yet clearly weathered.  The cream Hudson, light and shiny against the backdrop of the forest, the greenery, and the cabin, pulled up close to what was clearly the cabin’s rear before stopping.  Alistair pulled up alongside and cut the engine.

He got out of his car with some effort.  The slamming of their car doors seemed loud and intrusive out here.  He came around to greet Miles between their two vehicles.  “This is where you live?”  There was a touch of awe to his tone that he did not intentionally put there.  

“Yeah,” Miles said.  He was holding a rather large paper bag in one arm.  He was wearing brown trousers with a blue, casual button-up tucked in.  “My father left it to me when he died.”

“Oh.”  He was a bit shaken by this.  Miles had never spoken of his father before.  “I didn’t know your father was dead.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.  He wasn’t a good man.”

That made it the opposite of fine!  Alistair gingerly, slowly stepped close to Miles and set a hand on his shoulder.  Before he could say anything, though, Miles kissed him on the mouth.  He gasped and stepped back, quickly taking stock of their surroundings and seeing . . . no one.  

He turned back to see Miles wearing a shit-eating grin.  “Let’s not talk about that right now.  Come home with me, Alistair.”  

A shiver ran up his spine and he found himself smiling back at him.  “Okay.”

It turned out the bag Miles was carrying contained wine, crackers, cheese, and apples.  Alistair hadn’t thought to bring anything aside from himself and the condoms that lived in the pocket of the jacket he was wearing, so he sliced the cheese and apples and displayed them on a plate with the crackers while Miles filled two glasses with wine.  Of course, filling glasses with wine didn’t take much time, so after that he stood back and watched Alistair work.  And drank wine.  

Alistair still wasn’t used to being watched in a good way.  He was always so worried about being seen and found out.  “What are you looking at?”  He asked as he set the dirtied knife and cutting board into the sink in the cabin’s kitchen.  The inside of the cabin was small but clean and cozy.  In the living room there was a wide, short couch with a matching coffee table.  

“You,” Miles said as Alistair walked past and set the plate of crackers, cheese, and fruit next to the open bottle of wine and his own waiting glass.  “The look on your face, determined. The way you do things.  It’s very . . . “  His voice was breathy, low and loose.  “Effective.”

Alistair picked up his glass in one hand and stood up straight, looking Miles in the face.  Dark eyes, relaxed and calm, stared back at him.  “Yeah?”

Miles pushed off the wall he was laying his weight against and came around the coffee table.  He laid a hand against Alistair’s chest and pushed gently.  “Yeah.  Sit down, relax.”

Alistair obeyed.  Miles wiggled himself into the space between him and the arm of the couch, and threw his arm over Alistair’s shoulders.  “Drink,” he said into Alistair’s ear, his hot breath ghosting over the side of his face and the smell of wine hitting his nose.

He made physical effort to relax as he took a long sip of red wine.  He leaned into Miles and relaxed into the couch.  “I feel you have done all the work here,” he admitted, eyes on the wine wobbling in his glass.

“Not all of it,” Miles said, so close to him.  “Just most of it.  But don’t worry about it, I chose to do the work.  I just wanted to get you out here, I thought you would like it.”

He sighed, trying to expel the shreds of tension that fought so valiantly to cling to the inside of his chest.   He took another sip of wine and turned his face to Miles’.  “I do like it.”  He leaned more heavily into Miles, practically laying all the weight he could on him, and looked him in the eye before downing the entire glass of wine.  He set the glass gently on the table, beside the bottle, with a small ‘clink’.  “I just need you to fuckin’ kiss me before I have to go smoke a cigarette.”

Miles cradled his face with one hand and kissed him.  It was a gentle, soft, close-lipped kiss.  It was the sort of kiss Alistair remembered giving and receiving for the first time as a teenager.  Then, it was an experiment.  Now, it was a taunt.  

Alistair turned his head, opened his mouth, and Miles pulled back.

“Wait,” Miles said.

“What?”

“I love you.”

For a long moment, he was thrown speechless.  He probably looked like a deer in the headlights, or like an idiot, or maybe both.  He wasn’t expecting it- although, if he were to think about it, it wasn’t surprising from Miles.  And it wasn’t like he had never thought about how he felt about Miles, sex aside.  There was a lot to their interactions now that could not be discounted as just . . . buddies helping each other out.

Like the wine and the cheese on the table, and the way Alistair had made sure he didn’t have disgusting cigarette mouth before he got here, and how Miles had practically negotiated him out here because he thought he would like it.  Thought he would like it- no, Miles thought he could relax here.  And he was right.

He leaned forward and pressed one more chaste kiss to Miles’ lips, and then another to his cheek.  “I love you too,” he whispered against his skin, and shivered, but he wasn’t cold.

He felt Miles exhale, heavy and fast, like he was relieved, and then he was laughing a bit under his breath and his arms were tight around Alistair and he was kissing up his neck and nibbling his beard.

“Oh, my God,” Alistair managed, and he wasn’t unhappy.  He was smiling again.  He looked out at the darkening sky through the cabin windows, and he saw the trees, and he heard the night distantly.  He could not deny that this felt nice.

“I thought you’d freak out,” Miles admitted with his face pressed into Alistair’s shoulder.  There was humor in his voice, though it was a legitimate concern.  

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” he muttered.

Miles lifted his head and kissed him, and this time his mouth was open.  He tasted like wine.  His tongue was clever and his teeth were careful.  Alistair’s mouth was his for the taking.

Alistair surged out of his grasp, but only to throw himself into his lap.  He tossed his bad leg over Miles and shoved his right foot against the floor to push himself into position.  They only ceased kissing for the moment it took him to reposition.

He ran his hands up Miles’ neck and into his short, curly hair, cradling the back of his neck.  He felt Miles’ hands on his waist, massaging their way down through his clothes.  He bit gently at his lower lip, and Miles gasped.

“Alistair!”  He exclaimed, and pulled his gun out of its holster at his hip.  “Really?”

#writing #romance #gay romance #gay writing #gay men #mlm #fictional cops in the 40's being gay #historical illegal homosexuality #wip:dw #dw #daydream walking #alistair sheep #miles crawford #valentine's day #valentine's day special