#victor stone fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burnt-ghost-toast · 2 years

Text

The Justice League Go to Six Flags

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: It cost roughly 100,000 dollars to rent out the Six Flags Gotham Adventure amusement park for an hour. Luckily for you, you were best friends with a billionaire who, with enough prodding and persuasion, was willing to shell out a million dollars to rent out the park. Several texts, calls, and emails later, you were set and ready to go to Six Flags with Bruce Wayne and the rest of your Justice League friends.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, so I want to preface this by saying this fic is heavily Bruce Wayne centered. I wrote most of it last summer on my own trip to Six Flags (those lines were brutal and I needed something to do) and finally got around to finishing it this year. The other Justice League members do make appearances, but again, Bruce focused.

It cost roughly 100,000 dollars to rent out the Six Flags Gotham Adventure amusement park for an hour. Luckily for you, you were best friends with a billionaire who, with enough prodding and persuasion, was willing to shell out a million dollars to rent out the park.

To make the expense worth it, the trip was marked down as a Wayne Enterprise company event. Wayne employee’s and their families were offered free entry, so while it wouldn’t be just the two of you, it would still be empty enough that you wouldn’t have to wait an hour in line for a minute of fun.

To make things even more interesting you had invited close members of the Justice League to join your trip.

It was decided that all of you would stay together and follow a strict plan, courtesy of your brooding leader, to avoid too much crossover with other guests and so that you all could ride everything without having to do too much backtracking.

On rides, Bruce sits at the front since that’s where you sit, and you both want to sit together.

Bruce wears light shorts with a dark shirt and sunglasses. He seems grumpy, as having fun isn’t something he does often, but he’s actually glad he gets to spend some time with you outside of crime fighting and work.

When you compliment his sunglasses and ask to wear them, he blinks once before responding with a nonchalant, “I’ll buy you a pair.” You tell him not to do that and that you just want to wear his. He rolls his eyes, but being the simp that he is, he complies.

You can’t help but smile at how easily he goes along with your plans. He trusts you, and you appreciate that and promise yourself you’ll never take it for granted.

Before putting on the sunglasses, you find yourself staring into his blue eyes, taking in the bright blues that look so tired for someone so young. He’s beautiful.

Bruce doesn’t comment on your staring until you start lifting the sunglasses up and off your eyes (defeating its purpose, he might add) to look at him as you walk. You comment on how nice his eyes are before finally handing his sunglasses back and getting on the next ride. Bruce keeps the sunglasses off the rest of the day.

Clark will remind you to stay hydrated, while passing you your water bottle at regular intervals, and carry your things like the good little boy scout he is.

You smile and thank him every time, which is starting to bother Bruce, as he’s the one who wants you to look at him with those bright eyes and dorky grin.

He watches Clark intensely and times it so he hands you your water bottle right before Clark can hand it to you. Clark is surprised but catches on quickly to what just happened and smirks with satisfaction—the little shit.

You thank Bruce, thinking nothing much of the gesture, and your smile warms him to his core. Even the summer sun doesn’t seem to compare to this kind of warmth… weird.

The longer you’re there the more comfortable you get and the closer you and Bruce seem to stand.

When you’re not chatting with the others about the rides you’ve just been on and what you liked about them, you’re standing next to Bruce asking him questions and checking in. He doesn’t do a lot of smiling and on the rides he barely reacts.

The others wonder if he’s even having a good time, but you’ve known Bruce long enough and well enough to pick up on the small smiles he tries to disguise when Barry or J’onn let out loud shrieks and screams on fast drops and his quite gasps when a drop takes him by surprise, or a sharp turn brings the two of you closer together.

You also do verbal check-ins, just in case. And because you love and respect Bruce, and truly want him to enjoy himself. He’s grateful and reassures you that he’s having fun.

Your fingers brush as you speak, warmth flooding with each small touch. It’s hard to take in after a while, and to keep from embarrassing yourself by giving into his touch, you turn away. You look around and pretend to just be admiring the view, but none of it really compares to Bruce. Your fingers brush a few more times, but neither of you do anything about it.

The great thing about being friends with a bunch of superheroes with inhuman abilities is that they’re all pretty good at carnival games.

Bruce suggested saving it for later in the day, so you all aren’t carrying things, and so right after lunch your group takes a break from the rides to try out the stalls.

Clark wins a few large things and plans on giving them to Lois while keeping a few for himself.

You’re pretty sure Hal and Zatanna are cheating and using their powers, but you can’t exactly call them out on it, so whatever, stick it to the man!

Billy, as Shazam, gets into an argument with the age guesser when he tells them he’s 14; “There is no way–” “I had an early growths spurt” “That’s ridiculous, just look at you” “You lost, dude, just give me my voucher.” In the end, he gets his food voucher for a free deep-dish pizza because “only a child could prattle on this much.” He and Diana have to be steered away from the high striker, strength tester game, as Clark and Bruce don’t really think a $2 foam hammer is worth possibly destroying the game because both refuse to hold back.

You, J’onn, and Barry eat way more cotton candy and junk food than should be humanly possible, but that’s part of the fun. The others place bets on who’ll be the first to vomit on a ride, and fortunately, it isn’t you!

You try your hand at a few things and end up winning a small bunny rabbit. You gift it to Bruce, which he takes with an eye roll and a thank you. You all bully Bruce into playing the balloon popper game and the horse race. He wins both games and is very pleased with himself.

Before heading out to try more rides, you all are able to put your new prizes away.

As it gets later, and your feet tire out, you take to leaning into Bruce’s side.

The two of you are friends, so of course it’s fine. It doesn’t have to be romantic. And no, Clark, shut up, (Y/N) is tired and I’m just letting them conserve some energy–leave us alone.

Bruce lets the others walk ahead of you, so that the two of you have fewer prying eyes, but the damage is done. The others know Bruce has a soft spot for you, but hell, they’ve always kind of known.

To make things more comfortable, Bruce wraps an arm around your waist, and you do the same to him as you share a dippin’ dots ice cream. One cup, two spoons. A few other people spot you, but all have the sense to mind their business and enjoy the day.

There are several Batman themed rides, this is Gotham after all, and the others tease Bruce about it. There is also a Joker ride, and Bruce entertains you and rides it. It’s surprisingly decent.

You all take group pictures next to the Hall of Justice ride and everyone buys merch from the shop.

Some, like Barry, buy a bit of everything; a Superman cape, a Flash mug, Wonder Woman keychain. Others, like Bruce, are more selective, buying mainly their own merchandise. Bruce also insists on buying you things and the two of you get matching mugs and hats.

This shopping trip comes later in the day, so you also notice most of the Batman merchandise is sold out. Bruce is VERY smug and happy about this. He casually points it out to Clark while brushing past him.

You all joke about how none of you are getting royalties on the merchandise and attractions using your face and brand. Barry jokes about being broke and Bruce offers to sue. Everyone thinks it’s a joke and laughs except Bruce who was very serious.

You all HAVE to take pictures on the water log ride. It’s a classic and a must.

Bruce buys all the pictures and for some rides you insist on riding them again so you can get a better picture. You refuse to let him keep any where you look like a complete goofball, frazzled and mouth open.

The two of you toss up peace signs for a few and for The Dark Knight ride you give Bruce bat ears. He does manage to save one picture where you look shocked and goofy. You were too busy chatting with the others to notice him picking up the information slip to print the pictures later.

The Goliath is the last ride of the night.

You’ve never been on it and honestly, it’s a little intimidating. On the rides you’re at fate’s mercy, and while you could trust machines with a lot, as Victor repeatedly reassured you all, the Goliath was known for breaking down often. You steeled yourself and allowed your excitement and desire for risk to outweigh your fear.

While waiting to leave the station you chatted with Bruce. He saw the worry in your eyes and kept talking until you felt yourself relaxing. The climb to the first drop had your stomach in knots. You had been looking for something to set your hairs on end, but now that it was here the dread and excitement blended into a need for reassurance. Bruce held out his hand and you looked at him a moment, unsure if this was happening. As the ride began to drop you had no time to think further and took his hand.

Your screams mingled with that of the other riders. There was so little support on the ride. All that kept you from falling out was a seatbelt across your lap and a bar that pressed against your lap and ankles. Your head and upper back were free to the elements. One hand grasped the bar across your lap and the other held tightly to Bruce’s. At one point, he had to adjust your hold to keep his own hand from flying up involuntarily.

After the first drop and first flip upside down, you felt like you had a good grip on the situation. Your screams turned to smiles and loud, anxious laughter as your cart continued to flip and drop at high speeds. When the ride came to an end you brushed back the few tears that sat at the corner of your eyes from the wind and slight panic. Your leg jittered, but the smile on your face and small nod you gave Bruce at his silent appraisal reassured him that you were alright. The two of you didn’t let go of each other’s hand until you had fully pulled into the station. Huh…

At the end of the night, you spot a large Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman plush strung up over a balloon popping game.

Bruce sees how your eyes linger and your pace slows. He guides you to the game, the others walking ahead to check out a few more things, and hands over the five dollars to play. Bruce nails every shot and picks the Batman plush bear. He hands it to you, and you can’t help but tease him.

“Aw, I wanted Wonder Woman.” You smile before pulling Bruce into a one-armed hug. The bear blocks the two of you out from the rest of the world and after facing every ride, some of which two or three times over, you figured you had enough courage to act on your feelings just this once.

You place a chaste kiss on Bruce's cheek. He flushes and stumbles over his words. When words fail, he takes your hand to hold then places a soft kiss to your own cheek, lingering for a moment, before heading off with you.

Seating on rides:

Bruce Wayne: Front if you ask him to sit with you but would choose the back if on his own. It’s a strategic position; he can see everyone ahead of him and he has more time to prepare for what’s coming, even if it is only by a handful of seconds.

Clark Kent: Having Superman on a ride can be terrifying because if he ever wanted to physically stop himself from moving, he could and if he was in front he’d take everyone else out like that train scene in Invincible. At least if he was in the back, stopping wouldn’t cause the other carts to crash into each other, so I’d place him there.

Diana Prince: Middle, but closer to the back. She doesn’t mind roller coasters and the back is usually shakier, which she likes. She’d also partner up with Clark for two person rides.

Hal Jordan: You have to fight him and Barry for first row on two person rides. Bruce says it doesn’t matter because you guys can just ride it again, but if it doesn’t matter then why don’t you sit in the second row, Bruce? He was a pilot and flying around is kind of his thing, so he cheers as rides go up, as you fall, and flip, and hit sharp turns. He’s here for it all.

Barry Allen: Has a need for speed. As the fastest man alive he enjoys going fast on rides, even if he can go faster. He likes feeling sharp turns and flips and his senses are great at picking up what’s next. He also likes rides that give him a nice view of the park because he finds that he can enjoy the view for longer. He likes to sit at the front and he’s a screamer.

J’onn J’onzz: Solid middle seat and he’s a screamer. He’s unfamiliar with roller coasters and amusement parks, but he’s certainly amused.

Victor Stone: He’s a little unsure about the rides as he’s pretty big and not entirely light. If he can ride, he’d sit in the middle. He prefers rides where he doesn’t have to leave the ground, so tea cups, go-karts, and bumper carts are his top choices. He demolishes you all at bumper carts. Go-karts is the most competitive game of the day, and you, him, Billy, and Billy’s siblings are menaces on the track.

Zatanna Zatara: solid middle seat but likes to be on the outside seat. Will let out excited shouts.

Arthur Curry: Not a big fan of roller coasters and prefers seats in the middle.

Oliver Queen: Queen Industries will never have what Wayne Enterprise has. He can’t beat this company trip, but he will be taking notes. Sits near the front.

Dinah Lance: Sits near the back, or with Oliver near the front, and has a blast. She’ll put her hands up and smile for the cameras.

Billy Batson: Loves the rides, but as Shazam he runs into issues of being too big for some of the rides. He can’t exactly transform in the middle of the park without drawing attention, so he ends up being the first of the group to leave, claiming to be busy with adult stuff, then joined his siblings who got passes as Shazam’s guest. The kids do their own thing at the park after Shazam rides with the JL for a little.

156 notes · View notes

themoonlitsojourner · 2 years

Link

Chapter 13 of 13: Heartbeat

Summary:

“Jemma… That’s not it. Is it?” Vic shakes his head, distantly surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “This ain’t about the Titans.”

The first time Vic wakes up, it’s to her head pillowed on his arm. Lips gently parted and breathing steady. Her body tucked against his, back resting along his chest, knees bent where his hook behind. The warmth spread evenly between them, filling Vic in a slow seep like dripping honey.

He smiles into her hair. Closes his eyes.

The second time he wakes up, it’s to the creaking shift of the mattress underneath him.

Vic jerks his head off the pillow, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Sitting up fast, tongue forming his half-slurred words, eyes darting to her t-shirted form slipping from the bed. “Wha– What–? Where are you going?”

Jemma stops. One knee, one hand still planted on the bed. Other foot on the ground. Expression leaping from solemn to lightly apologetic. ”Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Vic’s breath comes a little shallow, he realizes. A little fast. He forces his body to calm, uneasy at how quickly it leaped to panic. “Where are you going?” he asks again.

She shrugs. Smiles. “It’s morning. I don’t hear anyone else up, but they will be soon. I’m sure everyone is eager to be properly reunited with Tara.” Deeper emotion flickers briefly in guarded eyes as she glances toward the door. “She’s going to need all your support.”

Vic furrows his brow. “You’re talkin’ like you aren’t gonna be here.”

Wrinkling her nose, Jemma tilts her head. “It’s going to be rather awkward for everyone involved if I am.”

“Then let it.” His voice is firm, solid, confident. But his words are a plea. His heart still pressing against the walls of his chest with every beat. Rapid at the thought of her walking out that door without him, without warning, like he has a hunch she’d planned to. “Let it be awkward. I don’t wanna hide you anymore. They’re my family and they’ll give you a chance if you give them one, I know they will.” Vic tosses the covers aside and stands.

Jemma takes a step back. Moving away from the bed. From him.

And the heavy, itching sense of foreboding in Vic’s brain falls back into panic.

Defensive. That’s defensive posturing.

He can see the walls coming up, see her shutting him out and prepping to fool the world with an I-don’t-care smile. It’s been so long since she was ‘Jinx’ to him, since she turned that mask in his direction. He’d almost forgotten what it looked like.

Vic forces himself to inhale. Exhale. To think, not just react.

He starts slowly. Drawing the words out one by one. Letting his tight shoulders drop, holding out his hands placatingly.

“Jemma… That’s not it. Is it?” Vic shakes his head, distantly surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “This ain’t about the Titans.”

She glances toward the window and he chances a step forward. A bare hint of relief filling him when she doesn’t retreat.

“Jem, look at me.” Vic lowers his voice. Softens the words. She says his eyes are honest, the deepest, most genuine she’s ever seen. I love you, I care about you, I’m worried, he tries to make them say. “What’s really going on here?”

Jemma crosses her arms. Tosses her bangs from her face and smiles wryly at the carpet. “You’re always so good at that. At digging straight to the heart of a matter.”

“Don’t dodge the question.”

Finally, she lifts those beautiful eyes to him. Finally, she lets go of the old mask, the one from the beginning of them. The one he barely recognizes now.

“I don’t cry,” she says, coolly.

Vic takes a moment to parse it. To look for what she really means. Buried under more layers than probably even she knows. “Why not?” His feet taking him within arms length now.

A couple rapid blinks. Like it’s a question she can hardly comprehend. “I– I just don’t. I don’t need to. I don’t want to.”

“You’re embarrassed about last night,” Vic guesses. Keeping his touch beyond gentle, tucking her sleep-mussed hair behind an ear. “You don’t let anyone see you that way.”

“I am not that way. I am not the sort of person who cries at night,” Jemma responds with fierce certainty.

He lets his hand rest there, against the curve of her jaw. “What’s wrong with that sort of person?”

Neither moving toward his touch or away. “Nothing. But I am not them. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah. You can.”

Surprise at Vic’s easy agreement. Careful eyes flicking to his.

Both hands on her face, cupping behind her ears. Pained tenderness breaking his expression. “But you don’t have to,” Vic whispers. “Not all the time. Not… not like this.”

Jemma stares straight ahead. Through his chest. Breath faster, catching.

Vic lowers his head. Presses his forehead to hers. “You don’t have to be strong with me, Jem.” He closes his eyes. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not gonna leave you. I just wanna be what you need. I’ll take care of you, I swear. The way you take care of me.” His brow furrows. “If you’ll let me.”

A broken, gasping breath.

Vic’s eyes fly open.

Her entire face is crumpled. Her hands are fisted at her sides. And Jemma has lost all her masks.

“I have never been lucky.” She jerks her head side to side, sending Vic a step back and turning his hands empty. “Nothing good has ever come my way. But you… you…”

Still shaking her head, something like helplessness scrawled across her face. Trembling hands lifting to cover it.

Vic’s heart shatters. Forcefully, violently, making it hard to breath past the shards. “Jemma…”

“You came out of nowhere. Just… just showed up and changed everything.” She lowers her hands. Stares down like she doesn’t recognize them. “I don’t know how you did that,” she whispers. “I don’t understand how that happened.”

“I love you,” Vic whispers back. Everything in him throbbing, aching with her. Stop hurting, please stop hurting, I don’t want you to hurt.

And Jemma looks up. And her eyes are shining in a way he’s never seen.

Vic holds out his hands, palms toward her. She hesitates. Laces her fingers with his. “I just… I just love you,” he says, fighting to steady his voice. “That’s all it is. You changed everything for me too, you know.”

Jemma squeezes her eyes shut. “Say… say it again.”

He licks his lips. “Which part? I love you? I– I say it all the time.”

“I know.” She wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest. “I know, you wonderful, beautiful man.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he mutters, holding her tight, and she laughs, muffled against his skin and metal.

They stand in the dim room a long time.

“Okay,” Jemma says when she finally steps back, running the back of her hand across her eyes. “I’ll stay. I’ll talk to your friends and be awkward and join your family breakfast or whatever.”

Vic lifts an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth following. “Hold up, I don’t remember offering breakfast.”

She bats her eyelashes at him. Still tear-damp, despite her best efforts. And Vic crumbles, pulling her back to his chest and kissing her hair. He’s only a man, after all.

Her man.

With a snort, he shakes his head. “You know, I can’t picture you being awkward. Not Miss Effortless Elegance.”

Jemma tilts her head back, flashing him a grin. “Ooh, is it compliment time? Because I must say, I completely agree with your ‘no more hiding’ decision.” She winks. “I’d much rather show you off.”

Vic groans. “Babe, no, it’s too much! My head ain’t gonna fit through the door!”

“Oh, I am far from finished. Your prettiness is just the start of it.”

“Hey, I thought I was ruggedly handsome.”

She cures his pouting lips with a kiss. “That too. You’re very talented.”

A thunderous clatter resonates from up the hallway and Vic groans again, louder. “But someone in the kitchen is not.”

“Do you need to intervene?” Jemma leans back to glance at the door, leaving her hand on his waist and Vic wanting to close the distance again. “Are they likely to start a fire?”

“Yeah, probably,” Vic sighs as she lets go. He grabs a t-shirt from the closet, slides his arms into the sleeves… and hesitates. Watching as Jemma settles onto the bed, still rubbing at her face. “You good here? Need anything?”

She lowers her hands to glance through the bathroom door at the red jumpsuit stuffed in the trash can. Then down at her –technically Vic’s– oversized t-shirt. “Pants would be nice.”

“I’ll steal a pair of Tara’s.” Vic tugs his shirt over his head and swaps out his sweatpants for jeans. “You might have to roll them up a bit.”

“Stealing? For me?” Tilting her head, Jemma taps a finger against her chin. “Am I rubbing off on you?”

His next act of thievery is sneaking another kiss from those clever lips. “If I should be so dang lucky.”

Flopping onto her back, she presses a pillow to her face. “Oh, that was terrible. The luck jokes have got to stop.”

Lies, he knows Jemma loves his humor. The pillow is to hide her smile. “Not a chance, babe.”

Another crash from down the hall, this one accompanied by a sound suspiciously like something breaking. Vic should really get in there and save them all the huge hassle of mopping the floor. Or calling the fire department.

But he lingers in the doorway, hand gripping the frame.

Jemma feels the look. Uncovering one eye, she peeks at him. Tilts her head, a silent question.

Vic smiles. “I love you.”

Her expression changes, falling into quiet fondness. “I love you too.”

He’s still smiling as he shuts the door.

Vic whistles during his pants-stealing/delivering errand and afterwards, tapping his fingers against the walls in time with the beat. When he arrives at his next destination, he halts just outside.

This kitchen is known as their ‘backup’, located down the hall from the ops room. It’s also Vic’s designated culinary workspace and, thankfully, still in one piece and relatively unsinged. Despite the fact that Raven and Dick stand in front of the stove, frowning down at one of the burners.

“Do you think it’s out?”

Dick crouches to squint beneath the coils. “Yes. But we should still keep an eye on it.”

“So… I can put the pan back on?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Vic makes his entrance, waving his hands back and forth. “Step away from the stove, my friends. I love ya, but I like my kitchen too.”

They obey, drifting toward the wall with barely concealed relief flitting across their faces.

“If you insist.” Raven shrugs.

“You don’t want a break?” Dick asks, lifting an eyebrow. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

“The day I don’t wanna use my God-given talent is the day He puts me in the ground.” Vic cracks his knuckles and shoves the cookbook aside. “Anyway, you two were up most of the night. Why are you in here instead of sleepin’ till noon? No, wait, I got a better question.” He gestures around the room. “Why are you in my private space? Burn down the one in the ops room if you gotta trash a kitchen.”

Dick leans against the table. “We didn’t want to wake up–”

“Blueberry slapjacks!” Kori soars into the room, whirling in loops above their heads. “I humbly request the most glorious and nostalgic of breakfast foods!”

“Well.” Dick nods toward the alien brushing against the ceiling, a smile playing at his lips. “Her. Or the other two.”

Raven settles into a seat at one end of the table. “Something tells me that ship has sailed.”

“Hm.” Vic smirks. “Blueberry slapjacks, huh?”

“Yes, please.” Kori alights on the countertop, swinging her bronze legs joyfully. “I do believe them to be far superior to any other suggestion.”

Twisting toward the doorway, she shoots Gar a challenging look as he stumbles groggily into the room, pajama-clad and clutching Tara’s hand.

There’s a moment where Vic thinks Gar isn’t going to take the bait. When he thinks the little dude didn’t even hear Kori, eyes churning with an emotion Vic can’t place. Then, like a magnet snatching a paperclip from the table, his expression shifts. Vic is reminded of the blur when Gar’s body leaps between forms.

“Yo! What about waffles?”

Kori touches a finger to her chin, pretending to consider this. “Hm, the waffles are near.”

“They’re covered in tiny syrup cups! How can you go wrong with that?”

There’s something off. Watching the morning bickering play out in front of Vic, a familiar movie flipped left to right. Everything the same, but not exactly.

Gar flopping into his favorite chair. Kori following him to the table for the sake of their argument. Tara hesitating, staring at her chair. The one between him and Kori. The one she always sits in.

She takes a seat without looking at either of them. Barely sparing a shy glance when Kori asks her a whispered question. Tara’s shoulders are slightly hunched, hair half falling over her face. Everything about her comes in halves, actually. Half relieved to be here; half scared to death.

But Vic catches on one word, letting it echo in his head: here. For the first time in months, since the night Tara ran, she’s here. Stunned, overwhelmed, not saying much. Not quite herself, not yet. But here.

It’ll be touch and go for a while. It’s gonna hurt, healing. And nothin’ will ever really be the same. But they’ve got their rockstar back. And for now? That’s more than enough.

That deserves a celebration.

“The syrup cups designate the ‘waffle’ a modification and therefore not the classic original.” Kori resumes her lecture, punctuating with a fork she snatched from the drawer in hungry anticipation. “Yet the most outstanding, important fact in this debate remains that slapjacks are edible frisbees.”

“What! Come on! Who wants to eat a frisbee? Besides, for all we know the waffle came first.” Gar cranes his neck to toss a questioning glance over his shoulder. “Did it?”

Vic shakes his head as they both swivel to him. He adds some egg substitute and stirs the mixing bowl briskly. “What makes you think I know?”

“You possess a great depth of knowledge, especially on digestive matters. But if not you, then perhaps Raven…” Kori flicks hopeful eyes to her.

Raven sighs, purely to emphasize how ridiculous this argument is. “Pancakes came first,” she answers reluctantly.

Gar slumps, chin resting on the table. Kori pumps her fist like she’s just scored a touchdown, the motion lifting her from the chair.

Vic has to chuckle. Flipping a pancake, he does the same to the jumble of words in his head. He clears his throat.

“Hey, Tara. Is it cool that I let Jemma borrow a pair of your jeans?”

Tara jerks her attention to him, straightening in her seat. She doesn’t seem to notice the room dropping ominously into silence. “Oh.” Voice hardly more than a whisper, still a bit scratchy. “Yeah. Is… she still here?”

“Present.”

Smooth as can be, Jemma strolls into the room. Wearing the aforementioned jeans with a tucked-in, classic corvette t-shirt that Vic has no doubt everyone in the room recognizes as his. She leans against the island and, crossing her arms, smiles at Tara. “Thank you, by the way.”

“You saved my life.” Tara stares down at her hands folded in her lap.

Every ounce of sound bleeds out of the room. The concept fades completely out of existence, for that matter, as their carefully constructed, just-another-morning vibe sinks under the weight of Tara’s words.

Gar’s hands fist and unfist under the table. He glances her way like he wants to hold her hand again.

Dick and Raven stare steadily at Jemma. Dick’s wary curiosity obvious even under the mask, Raven’s suspicion blatant in the narrowed eyes peering above her book.

Jemma’s gaze flicks from Tara to them, expression slipping from gentle smile to cool disinterest.

Vic’s heart rate kicks into high gear, a race car hurtling down unfamiliar dirt roads without a map. He breaks the silence too loudly, too abruptly.

“Uh, Jem, mind helpin’ me with–?”

Kori interrupts, springing from her chair to throw her arms around a very astonished Jemma. “To you I owe eternal gratitude,” Kori announces, voice strong and sincere, “for protecting our friend and assisting in the restoration of her to our family.”

Jemma’s raised eyebrows lower into another smile. “Of course.”

Kori steps back to call over her shoulder, widening her eyes at Gar, “And it is excellent to have another present who surely appreciates the distinguished glory of the slapjack.”

Gar rolls up imaginary sleeves. “This means war. Prepare for breakfast annihilation.”

“Hold up!” Vic waves the pancake turner at them. “I’m makin’ both, no need for war!”

“Then you really do need a hand, don’t you?” Jemma slips into the kitchen, already tying her hair back.

Vic couldn’t hide his fond smile if he tried. “I’d appreciate it.”

To his utter relief, a comment from Raven restarts the debate at the table behind them. And just like that the awkward moment has passed, replaced by boisterous voices and preposterous claims. A little louder than usual, a little more desperately light-hearted. But after everything? They need this. They deserve this morning of peace and laughter.

Even if it’s not quite the truth yet.

When Jemma reaches in front of Vic to grab the flour, he sets a hand on her back and sneaks a brief kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks.”

She shoots him a bemused look. “Now you’re thanking me. What for?”

He hopes she knows. He hopes she can see how much she means to him in the way he’s looking at her right now. “For staying.” Vic tosses a thumb behind him. “For facing those hooligans back there.”

“They’re not so bad.” A smirk. The tip of her right upper fang peeking through. “I’d do a whole lot worse for you.”

“The most romantic gesture there is: committing a felony.”

“You said it, not me. Do you think they’re still watching?”

Vic blinks. “Um, no. Why do you–”

He thought he was bold, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her hair with all his skeptical friends a few yards away. He was wrong.

Vic sets a hand on the counter to steady himself and Jemma laughs against his mouth.

Ignoring Kori’s gasp in the background, Vic takes a moment to properly return the kiss. Then he whispers, unable to keep the grin off his face, “I think they’re watchin’ now.”

Jemma just winks and steals the pancake turner to save an unlucky flapjack from the griddle.

It’s not quite Vic’s best work, culinary-wise. But it’s the best breakfast he’s had since… Since ever, maybe. When else has he had everybody he cares about, all around one table?

The Titans don’t know how to react to Jemma, sure. Not a clue, most of them. But they behave themselves as best they can. Vic knows and appreciates that more than he can say. And believe it or not, Jemma’s got two of them wrapped around her fingers already. Really shouldn’t surprise him. His lady’s all charm.

She’s already won Tara’s undying loyalty, if their earlier conversation and occasional exchanged smiles are any indication. And Kori keeps leaning over to ask Jemma questions, tell her stories, or just talk, talk, talk at her.

So there’s two down. And honestly? The others’ll come around. Vic has faith in that.

Dick’s phone chimes halfway through the meal. His chewing slows as he skims the message.

Vic lowers his fork. “What is it?”

A smile slides across the leader’s face. He lifts his head, locks of wavy hair teasing at the edges of his mask. “The FBI has dropped all charges against Tara and Jinx. Including past criminal history.” He sends the criminal in question a meaningful glance. “I guess they’re not willing to risk waiting to see if we found any evidence at the hospital.”

Raven glowers. “So it was one of their black sites.”

“It seems likely.”

“Did you find any evidence, by chance? Any confirmation of what might have been going on there?” Jemma tilts her head, as if merely curious. Her voice doesn’t ring true with that interpretation, though it’s subtle enough Vic’s probably the only one who notices.

Turning back to his phone, Dick shrugs. “Nothing worth speaking of. We’ll keep checking into it. My current theories are a secret holding or interrogation facility. Could even be a training site. Whatever it is, the FBI wants to keep it a secret from the public badly enough to let you two off the hook.” His smirk widens as he scrolls. “They’ve wiped the whole incident from the records as a bribe to keep us quiet.”

Kori leans toward Dick, mischief leaping joyously in her eyes. “Yet we shall not keep quiet?”

“We shall not.” He tosses his phone on the table and sits back, crossing his arms. “But the FBI will have to keep their promise anyway. They don’t have a case. If they try to press charges, the secret’s going to come out. And it’s not going to make them look good.”

“And no way we’re letting some twisted torture site, or training site, or whatever keep running.” Vic firms his jaw, noting how Gar never totally takes his eyes off Tara. Like if he does she might disappear or fall apart.

Or maybe he will.

Dick nods once. “No one else will go through what Tara and Jinx did.”

It’s a promise, to the people of the city he loves so much. Vic makes a promise of his own.

No matter what this sick world throws their way, his family is not gonna get hurt like that ever again. Not Tara, not BB, not Kori, Raven, or Dick. And certainly not Jemma.

Not on Vic’s watch.

~~~

Alright, the Titans know. They’ve known a while, but it’s different now that Jemma’s actually here. Now they’ve talked to her, and seen her and Vic, and he can stop holding his breath about it.

That’s step one. Step two… Step two is everybody. Because someday Vic and Jemma won’t sneak around at night. Someday, they’ll walk hand in hand under the sun, without a worry who might see them. Someday everyone’ll know, if they care to look.

There’ll be talk, when that happens. Talk Vic’s fully prepared to let fall against deaf ears. It’s none of their business who he’s with. This city doesn’t own him.

But that’s all someday. Today, Vic slides the T-Car into park at the top of a grassy hill. Through the windshield, the dropping slope reveals the pink-streaked sky. And below that, a city of lights just beginning to flicker on.

He feels Jemma watching as he drapes an arm over the wheel and clears his throat. “So. What’s next?”

“Well, I suppose we could stay up all night again, if you’d like.”

“No, I mean what’s next for… Well, for you.”

Coming from her, a glance out the corner of the eye is enough for Vic’s heart to skip a beat. “That’s a good question.”

“They’d let you stay if you wanted to. My friends would.” The words fall fast and hard, clumsy and graceless. He doesn’t think he’s wrong. He just isn’t sure she wants it.

Jemma’s smile is gentle. “I appreciate the offer. But we both know I’m not much of a team player.”

The Titans are different. More than a team if you let them be. But that’s her choice.

“I’m not going back to HIVE,” she announces. Leaning against the open window, Jemma gazes at the black night descending with a hush.

“‘Kay.” Vic shifts in his seat.

“They’ve never offered me as much as they promised. Or understood my full potential, for that matter. If I ever want to reach the top, I need to move on from the academy.”

Vic tilts his head. “Alright. So what’s your next step in world domination?” Half joking, half wondering. Half worried.

Jemma’s quiet. Serious eyes tracing the glimmering lights below, their reflections in her irises shining just as brightly as the originals. “Maybe there isn’t one,” she admits.

His eyebrows lift. Vic shifts in his seat, bracing his arm on the center console to face her more fully. “Why’s that?”

A small smirk, her hands held out in gesture. “Well, it just seems like it might be more hassle than it’s worth. The amount of paperwork that goes into running a single academy is staggering. It’s incredible Blood has any time at all to be an evil mastermind.”

The name turns Vic’s lips into a frown. Can’t help it, pure instinct. At least he won’t have to deal with the awkwardness of loathing his girlfriend’s sort-of-boss anymore.

“Alright. No more HIVE. Then what?”

Her expression hardens. “First of all, discovering the story behind that abandoned facility. Why did they send me and Tara there? Who runs it? What are their intentions?” Jemma shakes her head. “There are so many questions still unanswered.”

Vic mulls over her words. “You’re right. There’s a whole lot we don’t know. But how are you gonna get the answers?”

“The FBI are key to this. They’ve been involved in every step, somehow.” She shrugs. “I figured I’d start there. How does weeding out government corruption sound to you?”

“Um.” Vic speaks carefully. “Pretty good, actually.”

“Perfect.” Jemma sits back, like that settles everything. “Don’t worry, this investigation won’t jeopardize matters between us. Now that my name is cleared, I’d like to keep it that way.” She sends him a meaningful look, excitement glimmering in her eyes. “We’ll finally be able to meet in daylight, once I leave HIVE. No more hiding.”

Vic leans forward, slipping his fingers between hers. “Let me make sure I’ve got this straight,” he says, and she tilts her head in question, and he nearly loses his train of thought. “You’re… leaving HIVE to take down the government? Are you sure you’re not still tryin’ to rule the world?”

Fang-baring grin. “Not entirely.”

Vic falls back into his seat with a laugh, careful to keep their fingers entangled. “I can’t keep up with you.”

“You do alright,” Jemma says, brushing a kiss to his cheek.

“Or maybe it’s the opposite.” He sweeps her bangs from her face. “Maybe you’re tryin’ to make the world a better place. Even if you’d never admit it.”

“Hm. Or maybe I’m after petty revenge.” Glimmering eyes in the dark, the color beating through his heart. Flooding cool steel gray with vibrant pink. “Does it matter?”

“Not to me. I know who you are.” His palm rests on her cheek. “I know you’re a good person.”

A couple heartbeats. Then, softly, “That’s a new one.”

“Not really.” Vic watches as she releases his hand and leans back, reclining her seat to stare through the open moonroof. “I think you’ve always been a good person.”

She purses her lips skeptically. “I’ve been your enemy for four years.”

“Three.” He smiles when she glances over. Shrugs. “And were we ever really enemies? Or just opponents of circumstance?”

She sighs. “You’re a hero, Vic. You can’t just throw a couple fancy words out and pretend I haven’t done so many things wrong. So many things you would never agree with. And all for what? For personal gain. Can you really excuse that?”

Hazy, teasing twilight whispers through the treetops like the wind playing with the ends of Jemma’s bangs, as she folds her arms and lifts her chin toward the sky.

Almost stubborn. Almost defiant.

Almost a lot of things.

Vic watches the shadows of fading light fall across her face. “Yeah. I can. Because when you grow up with nothing, I guess having everything looks pretty appealing.”

Jemma stills. Startled eyes flick to him, though she doesn’t move her head. Then they return to the sky. Lingering on the stray stars burning into view.

“How did you–?” she begins. Then trails off. Shakes her head. “Even I didn’t put those pieces together.”

A throbbing ache picks up in Vic’s chest. “Jem, I know you. Or at least I’m tryin’ my hardest to.” He shrugs and reaches across the console to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m still learning.”

“I don’t want to rule the world anymore.” Her voice, suddenly small. “I just want to love you.”

His breath, caught in his chest. His bloodstream, overflowing with a heady rush of warmth.

Jemma shifts onto her side, folding her legs under her on the seat. Her fingertips brush across Vic’s face, tracing the curved steel of his cheekbone. Her eyes follow their path, carefully avoiding his gaze. “The way you should be loved. I want to do this right.”

“We will,” he manages to whisper. “We’ve been through a lot, but we made it. We’ll keep making it.”

“Do you truly think we can last?” Her hand settles against his jawline. When her thumb traces the same path as her fingers, hesitancy marks the motion. “You and I?”

“I do.” Vic feels his every heartbeat resounding with startling clarity. Every breath filling and emptying his chest. “I think you’re the one.”

It takes a moment. Her eyes traveling slowly to his. Meadowsweet eyes filled with longing, newborn hope, the kind her smiles and words and masks whisper she’s not used to. Eyes deep, solemn. And maybe a little afraid.

Vic slides his seat back. He holds out his arms and Jemma climbs over the gear shift. She curls up on his lap, tucked between his chest and the steering wheel, feet propped on the console. Closing her eyes as he wraps his arms around her.

“You should know I’m never gonna try to tie you down,” Vic promises softly. “It’d be a disservice to us both. You’re free, Jem. Your choices are always yours.”

“That doesn’t concern you? You’re not afraid of what I might do?”

Not sure how long she’s thought about this. How many nights she’s laid awake and wondered, the way he used to wonder what he meant to her.

It’s time they stopped wondering.

“I trust you.” Vic rests his head against the top of hers, memorizing the subtle brush of silky hair on his cold cheek. “Totally. Implicitly. You’ll do what’s right.”

“No one has ever done that before.” Whispered and wavering, ever so slightly. A confession. “No one has ever done any of the things you have.”

“I told you.” Jemma can’t see it, but he smiles. “I love you. It’s what you do for someone you love. And I’d do it all for you.”

A huff, almost a laugh. “That’s my line.”

He presses a kiss to her temple. “Sorry, babe. I said it first.”

“I’m fairly certain I’ve said it before. I have to have.”

“Not that I remember. Pret–ty sure you’re just tryin’ to save face.”

Jemma’s hair tickles his nose as she shakes her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You could marry me.”

Silence. A deep, hushed inhale, her hand closing around a fistful of his shirt.

Is her heart racing as violently as his?

Vic closes his eyes. “I spent a month away from you. Waking up every day not knowing if I was ever gonna get to see you. To hold you. I never wanna do that again. I– I want it all. Midnights with you, mornings, evenings. Every day. I wanna make you mine. I wanna be yours.”

The gravity of his words doesn’t escape him. He knows what he’s feeling. Been feeling it for a while, been thinking about this for longer than he can say. Kept close to his chest and carefully guarded for so long, so afraid she might say no. Tell him it’s crazy. That no matter how much she loves him, it’s not in the cards for them.

Vic’s still a little scared, honestly. But she’s always made him brave.

“Jemma,” he whispers into her hair. “If I asked you… would you marry me?”

A single moment, stretching into eternity before him.

“Are you asking?” she breathes.

He ducks his head. So close, all wrapped up in her, too close to see her expression. “Yeah. I am.”

Jemma turns toward him. She presses her forehead to his and smiles. So openly, so genuinely, stopping his heart and spinning his world. “Victor Stone, I would marry you in an instant.”

Vic can’t breathe, can’t think past the flood rushing through his soaring chest, the joy forming his grin and filling his head. The crisp, airy starlight burning his lungs at the sound of Jemma’s laugh when he hides his flushed face in the crook of her neck.

Pay no notice to the black velvet canvas spread above, scattered with glimmering, fiery sparks of ancient wonder. To the caressing fall of the night’s dark curves over the landscape. To the elusive breeze, electric and brisk.

Pay no notice. Vic doesn’t. Why would he, when the love of his life, his heartbeat, is right here? Tenderly taking his face in her hands, her hair whispering against his shoulder as she kisses his mouth.

Pay no notice to the stars, the moon, the galaxy. None. The night sky has nothing to offer Vic.

Not when he can hold his entire world in his arms.

A/N: Fic number one in No Mirrors is officially finished. Follow the link at the top of this post for more info on future plans in the AO3 author’s note!

(Prev Chapter: Human)

(First Chapter: Apartment)

13 notes · View notes