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Oct. 8th, 2011 08:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
munninTitle: Tides on a moonless night
Characters: Jason, Tim, Dick, Damian.
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings: Angst, character death.
Disclaimer: All fun, no cash
Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
A/N: Two in as many days? The dark muses must like the rain. For Alexiel in a way, inspired by the prompt I gave her.
The replacement whimpered but the slightest shift of Jason’s hand turned that into a groan as his fingers tightened around Tim’s thigh. He slid his free hand up, up Red Robin’s chest and over the latches that held closed his suit. The high collar opened like a flower to his touch. It shouldn’t have been so easy to get to the skin of Tim’s throat but after all, they were both Bats.
He expected Tim’s skin to be cool to the touch; the dank, clinging cold of the cave, of the perpetual night of their world but it wasn’t. Tim’s skin was feverishly hot even through his gloves.
The gloves. They had to go. He needed to feel, to press his fingertips against the pale column of Tim’s neck, to feel the pulse dancing there beneath his skin. He bit the tips of his glove to pull it off, tasting sweat and grit and gun powder and that heady, metallic tang that filled all his senses.
“Not here.” Tim rasped, arching as if to pull away. As if he could. As if either of them could now. It was too late and some things can never be undone.
And why not here? The gutters and blind alleys of Gotham were as much their domain as her rooftops. Why would they not choose this place to finally give in to what they both knew had always been waiting for them?
Gotham’s grim rainbow always held their colours – the slate grey of her heavy sky, the true black of her shadows, the sodium yellow of her feeble lights and the red of blood. Only Dick’s flashy green has been out of place here, and it so readily put aside by those who followed.
Black and grey and yellow and red.
Always red. Always blood.
So much blood.
Blood that ran black under the moonless sky. Just like the shadow that ran towards them now.
Dick’s voice rang high as a bell as he fell to his knees at their side, his hands already moving to cover Jason’s. As if blood could make the suit any darker.
There were words of comfort there, panicked and automatic but they didn’t matter. Not anymore. “Take him.” Jason muttered; let his hands fall away as Dick tied the tourniquet in place, lifting Tim into his arms. “Just go.”
The man who had once been his brother, the man who now wore their father’s colours cast him a hurt, worried frown and shifted his grip. It was all Jason could do to find the strength to yell at him to go, that there wasn’t time.
Dick nodded, a look of contrition on his face that the Bat should never wear. He had chosen Tim but Jason forgave him for that. “I’ll be back for you.” It was a lie but one Dick needed to tell as he ran back into to darkness in search of the light.
But Robin lingered, his face a pale smudge beneath the hood. “You’re dying.” It wasn’t a question. The bullet that has grazed Tim’s leg, nicking the artery, had taken Jason in the gut. The entry wound was a small thing, a tiny hole invisible under the black of his suit and the blacker still of Tim’s blood.
But the exit wound was something else entirely.
Beneath him, cast iron of the sewer-grate drank his blood. It seemed right. He had bled for Gotham so many times and now she would have his last drop. A pact sealed forever. His last sacrifice to her.
“Why?” Damian asked, lingering over him, his too-young and too-old face impassive.
Laughter bubbled over Jason’s lips, bitter as the rain that began to drum down on him. It grew heavier as if its rhythm ran counterpoint to his slowing heart. “Because he was always the better Robin.”
Damian waited with him, never touching him til the last.
After all, it should be a brother who closed his eyes for the last time.
Characters: Jason, Tim, Dick, Damian.
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings: Angst, character death.
Disclaimer: All fun, no cash
Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
A/N: Two in as many days? The dark muses must like the rain. For Alexiel in a way, inspired by the prompt I gave her.
The replacement whimpered but the slightest shift of Jason’s hand turned that into a groan as his fingers tightened around Tim’s thigh. He slid his free hand up, up Red Robin’s chest and over the latches that held closed his suit. The high collar opened like a flower to his touch. It shouldn’t have been so easy to get to the skin of Tim’s throat but after all, they were both Bats.
He expected Tim’s skin to be cool to the touch; the dank, clinging cold of the cave, of the perpetual night of their world but it wasn’t. Tim’s skin was feverishly hot even through his gloves.
The gloves. They had to go. He needed to feel, to press his fingertips against the pale column of Tim’s neck, to feel the pulse dancing there beneath his skin. He bit the tips of his glove to pull it off, tasting sweat and grit and gun powder and that heady, metallic tang that filled all his senses.
“Not here.” Tim rasped, arching as if to pull away. As if he could. As if either of them could now. It was too late and some things can never be undone.
And why not here? The gutters and blind alleys of Gotham were as much their domain as her rooftops. Why would they not choose this place to finally give in to what they both knew had always been waiting for them?
Gotham’s grim rainbow always held their colours – the slate grey of her heavy sky, the true black of her shadows, the sodium yellow of her feeble lights and the red of blood. Only Dick’s flashy green has been out of place here, and it so readily put aside by those who followed.
Black and grey and yellow and red.
Always red. Always blood.
So much blood.
Blood that ran black under the moonless sky. Just like the shadow that ran towards them now.
Dick’s voice rang high as a bell as he fell to his knees at their side, his hands already moving to cover Jason’s. As if blood could make the suit any darker.
There were words of comfort there, panicked and automatic but they didn’t matter. Not anymore. “Take him.” Jason muttered; let his hands fall away as Dick tied the tourniquet in place, lifting Tim into his arms. “Just go.”
The man who had once been his brother, the man who now wore their father’s colours cast him a hurt, worried frown and shifted his grip. It was all Jason could do to find the strength to yell at him to go, that there wasn’t time.
Dick nodded, a look of contrition on his face that the Bat should never wear. He had chosen Tim but Jason forgave him for that. “I’ll be back for you.” It was a lie but one Dick needed to tell as he ran back into to darkness in search of the light.
But Robin lingered, his face a pale smudge beneath the hood. “You’re dying.” It wasn’t a question. The bullet that has grazed Tim’s leg, nicking the artery, had taken Jason in the gut. The entry wound was a small thing, a tiny hole invisible under the black of his suit and the blacker still of Tim’s blood.
But the exit wound was something else entirely.
Beneath him, cast iron of the sewer-grate drank his blood. It seemed right. He had bled for Gotham so many times and now she would have his last drop. A pact sealed forever. His last sacrifice to her.
“Why?” Damian asked, lingering over him, his too-young and too-old face impassive.
Laughter bubbled over Jason’s lips, bitter as the rain that began to drum down on him. It grew heavier as if its rhythm ran counterpoint to his slowing heart. “Because he was always the better Robin.”
Damian waited with him, never touching him til the last.
After all, it should be a brother who closed his eyes for the last time.