I was bored and wanted to write teeny things, so that’s the idea behind this. Obviously, some things are going to work better together than others (Pirate blind date! High school wedding! Mermaid coffee shop!), but some things could conceivably be pretty cool (Steampunk rom-com! Parallel universe roadtrip! Superhero roommates!).
Feel free to steal and adapt this for your own writerly needs. If you guys like this you can toss some ideas for a version 2.0 my way! :)
Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians/Heroes of Olympus
Characters: Percy Jackson, A.C.
Pairings: None.
Series: The True Story of the Olympian Heirs
Rated: PG [A few words not recommended for years 14 & under]
Note: This is a universe in which none of the characters are gods, or demigods. Everyone is human. Retelling + miniature altering.
I Accidentally Knocked Out My Pre-Algebra Teacher
SeaCaptain’s channel
Recently added- Vlog1- I Accidentally Knocked Out My Pre-Algebra Teacher
Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.
If you’re watching this because you think you might be one, my advice is: Close this browser right now.
Stop looking. Stop wondering. If things don’t add up just leave it be, try to lead a normal life.
Being a half-blood is dangerous. It’s intense. Most of the time, it gets you caught up in blood feuds or killed in painful, nasty ways.
Hey, I know this seems weird. When my friends mentioned vlogs, I just stared at them. It’s weird by definition. Someone across the globe who doesn’t know you talking to you through a screen.
Then again it’s not as weird as anything else that’s happened. Seriously. You probably won’t believe anything I tell you. This video will be pure fiction. But if you do, and you recognize yourself and your family life in these- you feel an odd sense of belonging- stop watching immediately. You might be one of us. And if they find you you’re dead meat. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I just need to know that people out there know about us. That all the dead kids get some acknowledgement. Warn others against all of this. Don’t come to the suburbs outside New York City, there’s mass murder and conspiracy, with children being pawns in a game of royal chess.
My name is Percy Jackson. I’m sixteen, like long swims at the beach and my mom is the most wonderful person alive. Now things are much better but a few years ago she was still in a period of life currently known as ‘The Sacrifice’. Mainly because she sacrificed a lot for me. Original, I know. I never realized this at the time but she was married to a guy called Gabe Ugliano for me. Gabe was a smelly, ugly and a lazy bum. He had no job, his only form of income was the occasional government payment. He spent most of his time belching, playing lousy card games with imbeciles and insulting me and my mom.
I didn’t understand it. My mom is amazing, and Gabe was horrible. Lashing out, getting myself into problem after problem. Didn’t help that I have trouble with learning. At least in the normal way. After my twelfth birthday, I went to Yancy Academy. It’s a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.
Was I a troubled kid?
Yeah. You could say that.
I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it… But things kind of went to a whole new level after a field trip I went on in the 6th Grade. Unfortunately my tendency to get myself into scraps, trouble and bad situations drew too much attention.
Both sides sent their dogs out. Okay, I’ll rephrase that because I love Grover. Grover’s my best friend. And I’ll explain more about him later. Either way, both bad and good sides sent their own tests.
Charles Centar had started working at Yancy Academy earlier that year, around the same time as Mrs Dodds. Mr Centar was teaching History and English. Mrs Dodds Pre-Algebra.
To be honest, Mrs Dodds was a living nightmare and kinda freaked me out. Back then even more so. Everything didn’t fall apart, though, until this field trip to a museums.
I should have known something was up when Mr Centar took us through a special display on European royalty. The long lineage passed down through centuries, fought over vigorously and still in question today, blah, blah, blah. What was really interesting was that Mr Centar chose to lead it, even though he has a nasty limp.
He looked at me particularly when he told us that the royals of the Greek line were hiding out from extreme revolutionists. I know it all sounds like some crazy conspiracy, I didn’t take it seriously either, but it’s- I’m not going there right now.
So, Grover and I are standing there listening to Mr Centar when this idiotic girl called Nancy shoved him. Grover’s not the most coordinated. He tripped over security wires for the display, guards came running. While everyone was distracted, Mrs Dodds pulled me into a small royal photo slides display. It was cramped, dark and eerie. She’s standing there, staring at me, eyes big beneath glasses that glint with the light from the changing slides projected onto the wall behind us.
‘You’ve been giving us problems, honey,’ she said, tugging on the stupid cuffs of her leather jacket. I swear to god, it’s true that her eyes went from beyond mad to plain evil.
‘We are not fools, Percy Jackson. It was only a matter of time before we found you. Confess your paternity and you will suffer less pain.’
All I could think at this point was, ‘Paternity? What? My dad is a dead surfer.’ But she must have noticed the confused expression on my face because her eyes bulged. I hadn’t thought she could get creepier, but she sure as hell did. She demanded an answer, and when I kept silent, hissed words that made my blood run cold. I’ll never forget what happened next. That woman takes her job seriously. If you’re watching, props to you.
‘Your time is up.’ And after that one hissed statement she ripped off her jacket. Mr. Centar appeared out of nowhere and-
-YOU MUST HAVE NOTHING BUT WATER IN THAT HEAD OF YOURS SEAWEED BRAIN. When it flashes red, that means something! Percy!
-Crap! I’ll be right back with the rest of this. Just wait. Gotta charge the battery.
Hey. I know I left you at a crucial moment. Can you tell by my sheepish smile that I’m sorry? As for the voice off camera, you’ll get to meet her. I promise. I’m kind of stuck with her. And all of this was one of her ideas. But she insisted I start this off, because things didn’t change till after me, and well- Anyway. That’s all for later. When I left off, I was telling you about Mr. Centar butting in as my math teacher, Mrs. Dodds tried to kill me. I was kind of so stunned at that point I didn’t notice at first but… Mr. Centar? He wasn’t limping. My gimp History teacher ran into the room, fully functional, to save me, a 12 year old delinquent, from my regular horrible looking pre-algebra teacher.
I know.
She was lunging at me, filled with rage. Mr. Centar threw me a dagger. In a totally nonchalant way, I might add. I normally don’t say things like ‘nonchalant’ but I’ve been told to improve my vocab lately.
Look, if you’re a cop or some sort of secret service gu-uh. Person. Then I might just give you a tip here- take everything I’ve said so far completely like a story. A novel, even. Or a webseries. One for teens to take in between exam study breaks. Don’t try to follow the trail and hints, find us, arrest me or anyone else. It won’t do you any good. You’ll get cut off like all the others. And then you’ll be dead, or wishing you were dead. So stay home with your full loving family, or equally loving pet, and go about your normal crime defeating life. There’s a lot of injustice, and illegality, in everything I tell you. And did I mention blood? Guts? Gore galore? You’ll never be able to arrest or defend any of us. That is, me and the other kids mentioned here. So forget we exist, leave these videos alone, and stay home.
Okay, now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s get back to me, Mrs. Dodds, and the dagger.
I caught the thing, and dodged the senile woman. She spun back towards me.
‘You’re dead, honey!’ She said that. I’m not making this up. I wish I was. She raced straight at me. Never realized she was so fast. Absolute terror ran through my body. With the blade in my hand, instincts kicked in and I swung my arm towards her. The knife embedded in her chest. Hissing with pain and anger, she fell backwards from the force. Lying there, dead-like, I almost checked for a pulse until I saw her chest moving. She was knocked out, cold. Mr. Centar grabbed me and drew me away. Before I could protest, we were walking down a corridor, further and further from the school group. Grover joined us.
‘A Kindly One? Here?’ his voice was shaking almost as much as my hands were, and I couldn’t blame the guy. There was blood on me, and I was pale as a ghost. Had he seen it? What the hell was he talking about? I couldn’t ask though, because Mr. Centar started talking.
‘We would make matters worse by forcing him away now. He needs to mature.’
I was cut off yet again by someone speaking, but it was Grover this time. ‘But he may not have the time. They know. I can’t… I can’t fail in my duties again.’
By this point I was starting to get nervous. And also to wonder a lot of things- what had Grover failed at? Why did Mr. Centar have a dagger? Were they all crazy, or was it just me who was completely insane?
You’re wondering all this right now, aren’t you?
‘You haven’t failed, Grover,’ Mr. Centar’s voice had gone all gentle and soothing, and I’m hoping my impression of it conveys that just as accurately, ‘I should have recognized her. Let’s just worry about keeping Percy alive. It’s time we take him home, after a stop off somewhere special.’
Now, we’d been walking this entire time, Mr Centar’s hand on my shoulder. But I was beginning to question whether I was being kidnapped or taken into protective custody. The talk of keeping me alive was freaking me out. I remember blurting out a quick, ‘Sir?’
‘Don’t be upset about leaving Yancy, it’s for the best. I mean, this isn’t the right place for you. It was only a matter of time. Wait. What I’m trying to say… you’re not normal, Percy. It’s nothing to be-’
Out of all the times I’d been rejected or disappointed someone I remember the moment Mr. Centar said this hurt more than I’d ever anticipated. He’d spent so many hours helping me, making sure I learnt the content and that I was keeping up. He also defended me with other teachers, checked on my settlement in the boarding house… He seemed to think I was worth something, and I was starting to believe him. He’d given me that dagger, but he was kicking me out?
‘Thanks…’ was all I could say while tears stung at my eyes.
How I got to the Academy of Entities is still another story. One filled with taxi rides, crazy crabby old sisters, Grover eating paper, my mom losing my step-dad’s car to a bikie and a really weird greeting by godson to my grandfather. Who happens to run the school. There’s also true identities and- look, it’s complicated. As is everything to do with this entire story.
My name is Percy Jackson, son of Bastian. Heir to the Greek Throne.
Characters: Henry Pym Jr ‘Pym’, Charles Lensherr, Hank Pym, mentions of Sinister and Janet van Dyne.
Pairings: Pym/Charlie
Rated: M
Note: Henry Marcus Pym Jr is based on Henry Pym Jr, a.k.a Pym, of the Next Avengers universe. However, in this fic he is in the Age of Apocalypse Verse and has a different backstory, though his parentage is the same. It’s a huge ‘What If’ Scenario.
The blond teen was ready to get out of here. Every hallway, every room, was dark and sinister. The whole place dripped with hopelessness and despair. He hated it. There were two reasons he'd taken this mission. The first was to make his father proud.
The second was to babysit Henry Marcus Pym Jr. He knew the other would have gone regardless of his decision to join in or not. And, knowing Pym, he would end up doing something other than the task that was at hand. So far? So good. There had been no mishaps AND they had succeeded in placing their carefully cultivated virus onto the mainframe.
But Charles Lensherr had counted his eggs before they had hatched.
"Pym!" hissed Charlie, as he saw the buzzing figure zoom off down the hallway, "Pym we need to go! NOW!"
But his boyfriend had disappeared around the corner, leaving Charlie to groan and chase after him.
"If we can get their plans," said a squeaky voice, "we can stop them before they even begin! Sabotage!!"
"Isnt this just a bit too much of a risk?" Charlie demanded but Pym was ignoring him, typing in algorithms and opening up a door.
Charlie followed him in past eerie lighting and stacks of books. Vials and jars were stacked on one desk and computers running programs.
"Pym, let's just go..."
But the brunet appeared not to have heard him. Rummaging through files, typing away on one of the keyboards, the dark haired teen seemed completely at home. Charlie peered curiously over his shoulder.
"Whoa."
There were full schematics for a tunnel system under the city. Pym began transferring it, along with profiles on people, through a cable and into the mini mainframe of his suit.
Neither of them heard the door behind them. They were too caught up in the many secrets that were hiding in the computers in front of them.
"Pym we've put a viris on their system and now got this, let's go."
Pym's eyes were scanning the screen. The feet of the newcomer were silent on the floor.
"PYM, let's GO!"
"How'd you know my name?" asked a voice from behind them.
Both teens spun, Pym ripping the cord from the computer. Then he froze. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
"Who are you two? How'd you get in here?"
Pym closed his mouth and his jaw tightened. And that's when it dawned on Charlie why the man in front of him looked vaguely familiar, there were elements in him that were also in the boy standing beside him. The same jaw, similarly fierce and questioning expressions, strong tense bodies, set shoulders...
"You're dead," Pym stated plainly, like it was a fact the man was denying.
"So you know who I am?"
"Henry Pym. Scientist Supreme. The second most intelligent man in the modern world."
"Second? I wouldn't say Sinister is smarter-"
"No. I meant me." Pym took a step forward, "What are you doing here?"
"This is my lab. What are you doing here? And you're smarter than I am, how?" Hank Pym tilted his head slightly, eyes taking in the teen.
"I meant, what are you doing alive? Why did you leave your fiance to fend for herself in this shit hole of a world?" The younger's voice was razor sharp and cutting.
"You know Janet? How is she? Is she safe?"
Pym blinked, "No, you asshole! Everything was not okay! And here you are, obviously working for the enemy! I bet it was your damn inventions that almost got us killed! That tortured her and kept me trapped!"
Hank's face fell, "What do you mean? What happened to her?"
"My mom is FINE, no thanks to you." Pym began pushing Charlie towards the door.
"Your mom? Janet's your mother?" Hank repeated slowly, "Jan's married?"
"No. She's never been with anyone since her fiance." Pym replied, they were at the door now. "Bye Dad. I respected you so much more when you were dead."
Hank's face was blank as the information registered but by the time he started towards them, the door was closing.
Pym's hand was closed tightly around Charlie's wrist, running and pulling his boyfriend forcefully along with him.
"Pym! That was your... you just left?"
"HE. LEFT. US. I don't need him!" Pym shouted, "Besides, weren't you the one begging me to get out of here?"
"But Pym, I think-"
"Don't." And the tone cut Charlie off. He knew when Pym shut down, and this was another thing the mini genius was putting a wall up about. He swallowed and kept up. Soon they were flying away, leaving Sinister's super secret mainframe labs a speck on earth below.
Characters: Henry Pym Jr ‘Pym’, Charles Lensherr, Erik Lensherr, Janet van Dyne.
Pairings: Eventual Pym/Charlie
Rated: PG
Note: Henry Marcus Pym Jr is based on Henry Pym Jr, a.k.a Pym, of the Next Avengers universe. However, in this fic he is in the Age of Apocalypse Verse and has a different backstory, though his parentage is the same. It's a huge 'What If' Scenario.
Part 1
No one seemed to notice the dark haired boy sitting in the seat by himself.
Why did no one notice? He was sitting in the corner, watching everything like he knew what was going to happen already.
His father, his mother, Kurt Wagner, Remy- They were all talking in loud voices and asking Janet van Dyne question after question. She was laying in bed trying to get it all out.
Charlie knew the boy, he'd met him before. Several times actually. They'd talked. They'd hung out. Possibly the only friend he'd ever made himself, without it being influenced by home. If you could call the kid a friend.
Dark hair fell into his eyes when he looked up, and caught Charlie staring. Warm brown eyes that hid so much more than what people would see in a short, small boy of thirteen.
Charlie knew he was thirteen. And knew what those eyes hid.
Erik Lensherr finally turned his attention on the child.
"Henry... can you come here?"
The boy pushed off the chair and walked forward, standing in front of the intimidating man, and jutted out his chin fiercely, eyes blazing.
"Yes?"
Erik turned his attention to Janet, "And Apocalypse was using him for-"
"All the lab work. Computers. Science. Anything he could test Henry on, he did and then had him working for him. Otherwise he'd kill me."
Erik's gaze returned to the thirteen year old genius, who had now crossed his arms.
"Henry, do you think you could tell us what you told Apocalypse? What he was working on? What he wanted you to do?"
"What? So more people can use my own brain against people? No thanks." The boy took a step back and looked at Erik straight on.
Charlie blinked.
"Henry, I know this must be hard for you, after all you and your mom have been through-"
"Don't pretend to know what we've been through. We were working for them just fine and safely until someone dobbed us in. SOMEONE told Apocalypse that I was more than just an average kid. SOMEONE told him that my Mom was a double agent. My MOM could have DIED working for you! If you really cared about her, would be left to rest and get better with the nurses. Come back some other time. She's been through a lot."
"HENRY."
Erik paused, mouth straightening into a line. "You won't let anyone help with your injuries. You won't take off your suit. What did Apocalypse do to you?"
The boy shot him a look, "That's none of your business. My Mom will help me when she's back on her feet."
Janet took a deep breath, "Henry Marcus Pym, apologise, now."
Dark eyebrows shot up into the dark hair.
"Thank you for rescuing us. I hope you plug up your information leak." He nodded his head towards the door, "You know your way out." And with that, he sat beside his mother on the bed and took her hand. He met Charlie's gaze briefly and then looked down.
There was a thunderstorm that night, and Charlie couldn't sleep. He was headed for his mother's room when he stopped in the middle of the hallway. In the corridor, sitting outside Janet's rest room was the boy.
The boy they'd rescued from Apocalypse's clutches.
Charlie knew his name, his age, and the way he could make Charlie laugh despite being sort of full of himself. He knew the famous dad, the geniusness of it all.
He hadn't known Pym's mother was a double agent until today, working for his dad. He hadn't known this other fierce side to Pym. And he hadn't known the big deal about him.
But there he was, obviously tinkering with some sort of piece of machinery. He approached him slowly and then sat down opposite.
"You okay?"
Pym slowly looked up.
"I'm not telling you anything more than I told your dad, you can forget it."
"That's not why I'm here. Are you okay?"
Pym looked down again.
"If you're not okay, you know you can say so, don't you?"
"Maybe. Or maybe I should just keep my mouth shut. I got us into this mess, and I couldn't even get us out." He was back to tinkering.
Charlie frowned, "What do you mean you 'got us into this mess'?"
"I mean if I'd been more careful... or even if I hadn't been born, my mom never would have had to go through that. It's all my fault."
"Wishing you were never born doesn't solve anything."
"But it's the truth. I ruined her whole life!" Pym looked up, "My dad died, because he was smart. Then she was on her own, pregnant. Single mom. Raised me in this hellhole. But I didn't even have the decency to be NORMAL. No. I had to be a freak. A freak with a gigantic brain and a stupid body!" He choked on the last word and took a deep breath, lest he have a panic attack. "Look at me." He bit his lip.
"We've hung out a few times, I've never thought you were a freak. You had cool powers, and you MADE your own suit! Not everyone can do that." The blonde found himself moving closer. Not close enough to touch, but he wished he could.
Pym rubbed his eyes and curled up tighter. "I hate him. Apocalypse. I hate him. I'm going to kill him. Someday, I'm going to kill him. Especially what he did to my mom."
There was silence for a moment, and Charlie softly whispered.
"What'd he do to you, Pymmy?"
"Stuff." Was the whisper back.
"Pymmy, it's okay, I'm just worried."
"Stop worrying, it doesn't matter. I'm okay. Nothing matters."
"Pymmy."
"Shocks. And probes. And scans. A few different things. But then he realised that the only way to get to me was my mom and that he could never replicate my brain patterns."
Pym's head leaned back against the wall.
"How long has it been since you slept?" Charlie asked.
Pym gazed at him a moment. "Forty-eight hours and counting." There's a pause. "Are you scared of thunderstorms?"
The blonde blushed and shook his head quickly.
"No!"
"You keep moving or twitching with every clap. It's okay. I'm scared of needles." He gave Charlie a friendly, encouraging smile even though he looked so obviously tired and unwell.
And in that moment, Charlie made a decision.
"Your mom's not going to be happy if she wakes up and finds you unwell and not taken care of, then we'll never hear the end of it. Come on, up. I've got a bed you can sleep in."
"But-"
"Your mom will still be here in the morning, after you've slept, Pym. I promise." Charlie says sternly, but sincerely. And it was with the hanging of the head, the defeated look, that he knew he'd won.
"Which bed?"
"Mine."
"But don't you need to sleep-"
"I got up because I couldn't. It'll be better to have someone else in the room keeping me company." When Pym didn't look convinced, he added, "It's this or the nurses."
And so he followed Charlie back to his room, was coaxed into taking off his suit and borrowing a pair of Charlie's pyjamas (that were rather big on him).
Charlie didn't comment on the various bruises and other injuries he could make out in the dark, he simply made room on the bed and put a pillow between them. He could hear Pym muttering to himself, and then softly humming, but it helped him focus on something else other than the thunder. And when Pym fell to sleep, the snuffly soft breathing next to Charlie reminded him he wasn't alone.
Chapter 3- And He Shall Be Mine and He Shall Be My Finchy
Word Count: 2550
Fandom: Batman/Young Avengers
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Tommy Shepherd
Rated: PG (though may be slight swearing, and non-detailed references to home abuse)
Tommy is 11 and Tim Drake is 12. Timmy's already Robin, the Joker is locked in Arkham after killing Jason. In Young Avengers continuity it’s only two weeks until Tommy would have vaporised his school. Marvel-DC in the same universe. Tommy fits the Batfamily mould after all, but how can Robin handle an eleven year old speedster on his own?
It was a few more days until Batman called Tommy down to talk with him and his protege. But the speedster child wouldn't stop racing around the cave. It was nearing Christmas, and Alfred had started purchasing large amounts of candy canes.
"Look, he needs this." Bruce told his young partner as they both watched the brown haired boy dash around the cave.
"What do you mean?"
"I knew a boy like him, once." Batman returned to checking the engine of the Batmobile, "And he needed to be Robin. It helped him from going down a dark road."
It was obvious who Bruce was talking about. Tim decided to let it be. Instead, he talked about the other part of the conversation.
"You're making him Robin?"
"No, I'm not, we've talked about this." A pause, "I only ended up ruining the other boy."
"Jason… wasn't ruined." He couldn't help it, he had to say it out loud. There's a longer pause this time, deadly silent.
"You're in charge of Thomas. He is your partner."
"But you're my partner! And he's only a year younger than me."
Bruce looked at him, "I would not do this if I did not think you could do it. He doesn't need me, he needs you. A solid person in his life, but one that can also teach him how to be with kids his own age. That not all of them will hate him and make his life a hell on earth. One that can teach him through friendship that he can have a family and people that will love him, not use him. I put you in charge. I will train him like I did you. He can come on joint patrols at times and I will oversee you both. But I do not want a repeat of my mistakes. I don't want to fail another boy. He needs you."
Tim looked to the kid, who was staring at the Robin uniform case with wide blue eyes.
"You won't believe what his parents did to him." Batman said.
The current Robin sighed, the many possibilities springing to mind forcing him to look away from innocent wonder on the other boy's face. "For you… I'll help save him. But if you couldn't succeed, how can I?"
-------------------------
Tommy was called over a few minutes later. He'd already gotten grubby from exploring the cave. His nose was smudged with something that looked like dirt, or maybe grease.
"Thomas, you remember Tim?"
The boy turned his blue eyes on the other young teen.
"So that's your name?"
Tim bit his tongue. Tommy looked away.
"You'll be Tim's understudy. You're not up to being Robin. You've only just arrived. He'll teach you the ropes to being one of us."
"Can't you?" Tommy asked, gaze instantly on Bruce, "Don't you trust me? I'm a quick learner! I know lots of stuff about bad guys, I can help!"
Bruce looked away, a pained expression on his face that was quickly hid.
"I will train you, Thomas." Batman confirmed, "But Tim will be your main partner, not me. At least while you learn things." He got to his feet, unable to look at the boy. "I will talk to you later, Thomas. Sorry. End of discussion."
Tommy looked devastated as the billionaire left. Tim stood awkwardly to the side.
"Do you want to talk about some names for you?" he asked gently.
Half the time, Tim did not feel worthy enough to even wear the Robin suit- now he was in charge 0f a whole person? Make sure this brash kid didn't die like the previous Robin he reminded the big boss of? The Robin Tim had taken on the legacy from. At least he wasn't booted?
"No." Tommy said sharply, "I'm outta here."
"Tommy-"
"He couldn't even look at me! He wants nothing more to do with me! I'm a charity case. I don't need to stay here. I should never have believed him. He doesn't want me." Brown locks obscured Tommy's eyes from view.
Tim sighed and grabbed Tommy's hand, dragging him to the glass case.
"This is here for a reason. It's not just decoration. There were two Robins before me- Dick Grayson and Jason Todd."
Tommy frowned, eyes on the costume.
"What happened to them?"
"Dick, the first Robin, got into a fight with Bruce at one point and left to make his own superhero name. And he did. he's Nightwing now. You'll meet him in time."
"And Jason?"
"Jason, the second Robin, is the boy you make Bruce think of. Jason was found taking the tires off the Batmobile. He grew up, mostly, on the streets. Bruce thought he could change him. He became Jason's ward. He trained him, turned his life around. But Jason ended up falling for a trap- running off impulsively without talking to Bruce about it.He died. Batman has never recovered. It still affects him, everything he does. He doesn't want to make the same mistakes with you, so he's given you to me."
Tommy's expression was unreadable.
"I'm a substitute."
"No, that's not-" Tim protested.
"I'm a substitute. He saw someone like Jason and wanted to make up for mistakes by using me."
Tim fell silent. The kid was perceptive and even if it wasn't the full story, it was a pretty strong point.
Robin considered him- he obviously had a few issues. Including the need for acceptance and attention.
"Then don't worry about him. Like he said, he's not your partner- I am."
"I'm your understudy," Tommy pointed out, face turned away.
"Yeah, so?"
"I don't work for anyone. Especially idiots who don't know what they're doing."
Tim blinked- stay calm. He was lashing out due to his own emotional turmoil. It was obvious, even by his stance.
"Fine, but Bruce is expecting us to work together." He gritted out, "What are we going to call you? Costume?"
"I don't care! I want no part in this stupid thing!"
"You need to calm down. Yelling at me isn't helping." At Tommy's insolent expression, Tim snapped, "You're being a brat."
Tommy sneered, moving over to the computer and holding a glass of water, left on a nearby tray by Alfred, over the keyboard.
"Don't you dare, you stupid little-"
Tommy's hand tipped slightly. Issues or not, Tim wanted to kill the twerp. He needed to be put in place! Manners, respect…
"Get out of here." Tim snarled.
Tommy dropped the cup on the floor, watching it smash. With that, he sped off for the stairs.
Tim stared at the mess. What had Bruce gotten him into?
But he did have a plan to lord over the kid.
Who said the name and costume had to be what he wanted?
-----------
Tim found himself sitting at his desk after finishing his homework with a book full of birds. He'd borrowed it from the school library.
Nightingale? As much as he currently despised the kid, Nightingale sounded too feminine.
Mockingbird? Mockingjay? No. References to Jason too strong. Crow? Too malevolent. Hawk? Too much like the military. Eagle? Too patriotic.
Besides, he was a sidekick to a Robin.
Hmm…
Duckling? Swan? No, no.
Then he had it. It was staring him in the face in all its glory. Perfect.
Finch.
Finches- smaller than robins. In so many colours, all over the world.
Yellows, and blacks. Reds and browns. Purples. Rainbows. Greys and oranges. Blue body with green wings and a red tail.
Thinking about his own costume, he wondered what to give the other kid.
A speedster, like Dick's friend, Wally. Kevlar? Not too heavy on a skinny eleven year old that could run at super speed, but firm enough to stop deep damage. If Tommy was his responsibility, he was going to do this right. No more Jasons.
Tights? Like a second skin, easy to move in and barely ever friction.
The top part of the tunic would be reinforced with kevlar, and the bottom part tighter material. All in blue. The tights? Green. Like his own. The belt? Red. Black cape with green inside and green gloves like his own. A red mask and black boots.
He took the design to Bruce the next day.
"Finch?"
"It goes with Robin. And Nightwing."
"Are you sure this is right for him?"
From upstairs they heard Alfred's voice.
"Master Thomas, sit down! How many times must I ask you to calm?"
"I think so." Tim nodded.
---------------------
Finches
Finches are predominantly seed-eating songbirds. They're typically inhabitants of well-wooded areas, but some can be found on mountains or even in deserts.
House Finch
They are primarily granivorous (Tim's scrawl read "seeds of plants are major or main food source") , but euphoniines ("a sub category of finches") include considerable amounts of arthropods ("an invertebrate animal having an external skeleton, a segmented body and jointed appendages. Includes insects, arachnids and crustaceans.") and berries in their diet, and Hawaiian honeycreepers evolved to utilize a wide range of food sources, including nectar. The diet of Fringillidae nestlings includes a varying amount of small arthropods. True finches have a bouncing flight like most small passerines (a bird order term, part of the order Passeriformes, which includes more than half of bird species), alternating bouts of flapping with gliding on closed wings. Most sing well and several are commonly seen cagebirds; foremost among these is the domesticated Canary (Serinus canaria domestica). The nests are basket-shaped and usually built in trees, more rarely in bushes, between rocks or on similar substrate.
Tricolor Parrotfinch
("So basically finches are noisy, protective but generally harmless unless threatened. They're bouncy and small but also fast. Seems perfect.")
----------------------
It took Bruce under a week to secure all the necessary pieces for a new sidekick. Tim couldn't help but be excited when Alfred handed him a bundle that was all ready to go. The twelve year old found the younger boy sitting in a chair in the Batcave, looking so much smaller than usual. This was their first moment of being official partners and Tim was more than a little nervous. How could he handle such a duty?
As he stood in front of the bright piercing blue eyes boring into him from under a dark fringe, he swallowed.
"So what's in the box?" Tommy asked, with the raise of an eyebrow. It was barely visible.
Tim took a breath.
"As you know, I'm Robin. Batman and I talked and agreed on your name. It's Finch."
"Finch?" Tommy repeated, then frowned, "That's not menacing at all. I'll be laughed at!"
Tim snorted, "You think Robin doesn't get laughs? Your youth and innocence is one of your greatest weapons. They don't suspect what you're really capable of. When they underestimate you, they give you an advantage. Use it. All of Batman's partners are birds- Nightwing, Robin… would you prefer Nightingale?"
Tommy looked away, "You made your point."
No sassy remark? Tim was surprised, but grateful. Had he just shut the speedster up with logic and knowledge? Had he gained an ounce of respect? He'd have to take a note of that. Turning, he opened the box and pulled out the red mask. It was exactly like his own but a different colour.
"Your identity is your most important secret. No one, not one person, can know who you are. If they did they could go after you and the people you love. We can't give away who we are. Do you understand? Tommy Wayne doesn't exist in the field. You're Finch, and that's all."
Tommy nodded, silently taking it.
Tim sighed, placing the box on the dashboard and helping him put the mask on. Stepping back, he grinned.
"You look more like one of us already."
The younger averted his eyes. Robin moved over to the box and pulled out the tights and blue tunic.
"There's a change room just off of here." He pointed. The speedster looked at the clothing, back up at Tim and then moved off.
Robin fell into his seat to wait. Why did it feel like his guts were twisting into a knot?
In under a few minutes, his protege had returned.
The mask was, for some reason, off and being fiddled with in the small pale hands of the boy. The colour of the tunic brought out the sharp colour of his eyes. The elder grinned again. "It suits you, but do you need me to help with your mask again?"
There was a quick nod and then a small, quiet voice unlike his normal booming banter, "You think so?"
Tim nodded. It was unusual to see a vastly different side. At least he knew it existed? Leaning over, he snapped the mask back on. "Shame no one else will see your eyes."
Was that a pink tinge or was he imagining it? If it was, he should just ignore it… and make sure to take a note for when the brat was being a jerk later.
"We're almost finished. Now, see how I have a utility belt? Batman does too. It has everything we need to do what we do. Your belt is one of your most valuable assists." He pulled a red one out of the box, putting it around Tommy's waist and clipping it on. The smaller boy instantly started to explore it. So maybe the kid wasn't THAT bad.
"Gloves." Tim got them out, "We leave no clue to identify us, no fingerprints." Green gloves that matched his own were handed over to the other. Tommy pulled a face, but he couldn't argue with logic and put them on.
"Boots!" Out they came too, and were soon slipping onto feet. The younger boy had his tongue between his teeth as he squirmed his feet into them. The cape was added on last, secured safely.
"Stand up!" Tim commanded and stood back once more. It all fit and in the outfit the tiny boy had been transformed from a regular street kid to a hero in the making. He felt a little proud. "Like I said before, it suits you. You look great."
"Really?" Tommy asked, tugging at the tunic and looking almost scared. The illusion was broken, he was back to being a nervous little kid.
"Trust me, you look perfect."
And back into place, his little protege was. His chest puffed out before he disappeared into a blur, dashing off and into the change rooms. He was in there for about a minute before he was back and bouncing around all over.
"I'm a Batkid! I'm gonna kick major butt! I'll be the best there ever was! Boom! Pow! You're going down!" He caught Tim's amused expression and froze. "Shut up, I'm not that excited."
"It's fine, Finch, continue."
The kid pulled a face, "Finch, really?"
"Want to be Parrot? Different colours but we can make some modificat-"
Tommy pulled out another, worse face, sticking his tongue out slightly. "Bah! No!"
Tim couldn't help but laugh, a full hearty bout of laughter, "So, F-Finch it is?!"
"You have the worst taste, Timothy."
"We're in costume, call me Robin."
"Robs-butt." Tommy retorted, with a roll of his eyes.
Tim bit his tongue and put the box away. "C'mon Finch, training room time."
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Tommy Shepherd
Rated: PG
Tommy is 11 and Tim Drake is 12. He’s already Robin, the Joker is locked in Arkham after killing Jason. In Young Avengers continuity it's only two weeks until Tommy would have vaporised his school. Marvel-DC in the same universe. Tommy fits the Batfamily mould after all, but can Batman actually handle him? We'll see.
Tommy Shepherd had always loved cars. A sweeeettt set of wheels could make him groan in delight and sometimes even drool. So it was, as he was exiting the nuclear power plant at super speed, ready to set off to his depressing home life at the end of an extraordinary day that he spotted an extraordinary car.
Better than extraordinary THIS CAR was beautiful and amazing. Shiny black. Those rims… he could just melt, and the fenders. What a dream engine this baby must have. He ran a hand along it slowly when he heard footsteps and voices.
Here was a life crossroads, one of those ones that they liked to talk about at school. Except it wasn't between focusing on sports or academics. Heck, it was nothing that trivial. He could sneak into the boot of this car, go to heavens knows where (where did Batman live? Near that Arkham place?) or he could run back home to his miserable life. At least in one of those options he didn't have to part with this car. And what was the worst that could happen? Yeah, he wasn't exactly sure what the plan of action was ONCE he got to wherever Batman was going but he was pretty sure that they'd just send him back OR he could wander around. Anything was better than here. With that simple, understated, eleven year old thought process he climbed into the trunk and closed it over him.
Five minutes later the car was moving.
- - - - - -
Bruce stopped the car and got out, safely at the Manor. Tim climbed out too.
"That kid, but you saw why I was like that, don't you?"
"You let him get to you too much. He's probably lashing out because that's all he knows. There will be people who will challenge you more than that Tim. You have to better prepared for it." Bruce had removed his mask, Tim followed suit and they were about to head up the stairs away from the Batmobile when Bruce stopped, remembering something in the boot.
He walked back down and opened it, coming face to face with Tommy, who blinked and then stood, big blue eyes taking him in. Tim gaped a little and then frowned.
"So that's what you look like." The Robin muttered.
Bruce ignored his partner, "What are you doing here?"
"Nice ride." The small, pale boy was gazing at the car.
"I asked you a question." Batman was not in the mood.
Blue eyes turned from the vehicle to the man in front of him. "I thought a trip wouldn't hurt. Where are we?"
"So you just got into the boot of my car with no plan and not knowing where we were going?"
"Nope. I don't do superheroes." Tommy didn't back down from Bruce's narrowed eyes. "I just liked your car and wanted a break from home."
"Did you know it was Batman's car?" Tim asked. Tommy's eyes flew to him and smirked as he took him in without a mask.
"Different from what I thought you looked like idiot, but at least you're not ugly. I guessed it was Batman's but I really didn't know."
"You could have gotten yourself killed. Again. Is this reckless behaviour normal with you?" Bruce demanded.
"Yes." Tommy's expression had become almost dare like.
“Don't you think your parents will be worried about you?”
Tommy laughed, "No! I told you before! If you take me back and if I'm lucky then Dad won't be completely shitfaced and I can just walk in quietly and hopefully he won't throw something at me. Mom won't be home for hours, not that it matters much. Mom doesn't help. She just tries to survive." He brushed down his clothes, avoiding their faces. He hated pity. But he would tell it like it is. No fairytales. Not that REAL fairytales weren't morbid as anything.
Tim drew closer, looking up at his mentor.
"How old are you?" the dark knight asked.
"I told you," Tommy shot a look at Tim, "Eleven. I'm just… small. Not like they feed me enough anyhow. Not my fault. Some days I don't eat anything at all. How am I meant to grow?!"
Tim winced. Just the way he said it, asking for understanding as if it were normal.
"And what's your name?"
"I don't just give my name out. What is this? Twenty questions?" However, the way the two looked at him forced him to reconsider, "Fine." He was a little tired after all, and not many kids could probably say they took a ride with Batman or whatever so he at least owed them a name. "It's Thomas Shepherd but I deck anyone who tries to call me Thomas. I normally get called Tommy."
"And what's wrong with your parents?"
"They hate me. They wish they'd never had me. There's a long list. You wanna be talking here all night?"
"And you're not just over exaggerating?"
Tommy scowled, "What? You think I make this stuff up? Am I some sad kid whose parents turn off the TV too early and they whine and complain for hours?" Tommy lifted his shirt to show a deep cut on his side. "Broken bottle. I got the glass out. Wasn't easy."
Tim stared. Bruce scowled.
"Alright Tommy. I believe you. You can put your shirt down now." Tommy did so.
"You can sleep here tonight. I'll talk to you about what's going to happen in the morning." Bruce walked up a few stairs and Alfred came forth. Tommy was led away with the butler but he turned to give Bruce an unreadable look before he left the room.
"Time for you to go home Tim."
"Are you… going to take him in? Like you did Dick?" Tim asked.
"I can't just let him go back to that… that's for certain." Bruce muttered, rubbing one of his temples. "What kind of person would I be?"
Tim nodded, remembering the wound and Tommy's fierceness. "He's seen our faces."
"Something tells me the kid has his own secrets to hide, like how he disappeared so quickly into the night when you tried to chase after him. He won't reveal anything. Go home and get some rest. I'll deal with Thomas Shepherd."
Tim swallowed and stepped away. "Goodnight Batman."
"Goodnight Robin."
Bruce was staring at the file he'd pulled up on the Springfield Shepherd family. Tommy's father was indeed an alcoholic, and it was his mother bringing home the money. Most of it ended up fuelling Frank's addiction and very little time or care was given to the child. In fact the parents seemed so negligent it almost appeared as if they disliked their son. He didn't have a very good record with his school either, not only getting into fights but sometimes appearing with severe wounds and attention-seeking behaviour.
"You're looking me up, aren't you?" Tommy himself stepped out of shadows.
"How'd you find your way back in here?"
"Do you have superpowers?" Tommy asked, seeming to size Bruce up.
"I'm not like Superman," Bruce said, looking back at the screen, "Is that your father?"
Tommy tensed up and shuddered immediately at the sight. He was on edge, his stance becoming one of defence automatically. That told Bruce all he needed to know.
"Yeah, that's him."
"Do you want to go home?"
"Honestly?" Tommy looked up at Bruce, scrawny and thin as he was.
"Yes, honestly."
"No. Never."
"What about your mother?"
"She doesn't care. Not really. If I went out of their lives tomorrow, they'd be happy."
"If I told you you could be safer here… would you want to stay?"
Tommy stared at him, his expression calculating.
"Is this some kind of joke? A rich fancy joke? Me, stay here? Why would you want me?"
"I don't want to take you back there knowing that you're going to keep getting hurt."
"Nobody would want me. Didn't you see my file? Everyone hates me."
"You can be better. You're a smart kid."
"I'm a freak," Tommy hung his head, looking away. "If my parents ever found out… properly…"
"Freak?" Bruce frowned. Tommy looked up at him and suddenly the kid was gone. Vanished. He felt a tug on his other sleeve and looked down to see Tommy for a moment before the child was gone again. He appeared in various places around the room, a blur moving from one to the other.
Bruce knew what Tommy was.
"You're not a freak Tommy," he said loudly, the boy stopping beside him, "You're just a speedster."
"A speedster?" Tommy looked confused.
"There are other speedsters out there." Bruce said, "I know one myself. You're not a freak."
Tommy moved closer, "Do you think my parents would agree?"
The Dark Knight stared at the file in front of him and shook his head.
"It doesn't matter though, because you can stay with me."
With that, Tommy was sent off to bed.
It didn't take much for Tommy to be lifted from the Shepherd household. The parents didn't exactly put up a fight to keep their son, which only reconfirmed Bruce's belief that this was the right thing to do.
The press ran with the story. Bruce Wayne was adopting a child from Springfield. Why? How did he know this kid? An illegitimate son only just discovered? It was actually a good thing that Wayne Industries supported various sporting events, including the track team that Tommy had once run for. The story was that he'd taken an interest in sponsoring Tommy and once he'd found out the child had been suffering in a negligent household had decided to take him into his care. Tommy heard none of this, unaware that his benefactor was Bruce Wayne, that he was in Wayne manor, or even that he was officially adopted. He didn't watch television or read newspapers but instead spent most of his time wandering the house, taking an interest in objects or running around outside to burn off steam.
And it was for this reason he was now sitting in the kitchen eating cookies to get his energy back up. Alfred had made them himself. He noticed a figure staring at him from the entrance and turned.
"Yeah Cape Boy? Why you staring?" he asked Tim.
"Nothing," said Tim, "And don't call me Cape Boy."
"Well then don't stare," said Tommy, taking another bite of cookie, "Haven't seen you around much."
"Batman's been busy," said Tim stiffly, "He told me to wait here."
"Then sit down idiot," said Tommy, gesturing to the seat beside him, "There's enough cookies here for you." He shoved the plate closer to Tim as the boy sat down. Tim was surprised. Didn't Tommy dislike him since their argument at the Plant?
"Oh. Thanks."
He took one and looked back up at Tommy, who was in turn looking at the window.
"What are you thinking about?" Tim asked, taking a bite of cookie, unable to stop himself from questioning the look on Tommy's face.
"About being here. No one's telling me anything."
"Well Batman's adopting you…" Tim said and stuffed the rest of the cookie in his mouth so he'd shut up.
"Oh…" Tommy looked back at Tim, "Really?"
"Yeah…" Tim muttered.
"Cool." Tommy said, and took another cookie. Tim looked at him confusedly. Just cool? What was with this kid?
Bruce enters at that moment. He looks at them both a little awkwardly. Tommy breaks eye contact and stuffs yet another cookie into his mouth. Bruce makes a motion to Tim and quickly the boy understood that he was to get up and leave. He nods and walks to Bruce's side. Batman clears his throat.
"I'll be back later and we'll discuss everything then." He says to Tommy who simply shrugs in response and looks away. Bruce frowns but leads Tim out.
"What's going to happen to him?" he asked Bruce, who was pulling on his Batman mask.
"I've enrolled him in your school. You can take care of him, can't you?"
Tim nodded, "And you're going to tell him that you're Bruce Wayne?"
Bruce checked the computers, "Yes, I plan to tell him his new identity."
"Will he be trained… like me?" Tim asked slowly.
"I will help him to understand his powers to the best of my abilities. But you are Robin. I need someone by my side that will not lose his head. Tommy is very much controlled by his emotions. We will discuss this more later."
Tim smiled.
Tommy was sitting up in his bed when Bruce entered.
"Finally going to tell me what's going on? I wasn't even allowed to read the newspaper!"
"I'm adopting you."
"I know that." Tommy huffed.
"Your new name is Thomas Wayne."
"… Oh."
"My real name is Bruce Wayne."
Tommy's eyes widened, "The man who sponsored my school track team? You own Wayne Industries?"
Bruce nodded, "I do. But you have to keep it very quiet. I can't have anyone knowing that I'm Batman. Do you understand? If people know who's behind the mask they begin to target them. Their family. Their friends. Destroy their lives for the good work they do undercover. So, you must keep it quiet. It is our secret. Do you understand?"
Tommy nodded, "Yes. You can count on me."
Bruce indicated for him to lie down instead of sitting so rigidly.
"The boy from earlier, Robin, his real name is Tim. You'll be going to his school- so long as you don't get into huge fistfights and damage public property."
"I'll be good." Tommy nodded.
"You have two brothers." Bruce said.
"Two?"
"Yes."
"Are they your sons?"
"… They were adopted. Like you."
"They needed someone to save them?"
"Yes, in a way."
Tommy clung to the covers tightly. "Thank you Bruce."
"It's alright Tommy." Bruce reached out to touch him but the hand fell short and he coughed before standing and leaving.
Note: This started with me playing with the idea of an older lot of Next Avengers, specifically exploring Pym as a 15 year old as opposed to 12/13 of the movie. Part of the way through writing the second and third chapters I reread the comics and it spiralled even more. This is the first part. Not sure how long it's going to be.
Pym's nose was bleeding, long trails of red past his lips and chin and his body shook.
The rest of the Next Avengers stared.
"Pym, what's wrong?"
Azari met the youngest boy's eyes. "Tell them," he muttered, "go on, tell them."
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Pym said edgily, and looked away.
"Damn it, Pym! Tell them."
The events of the past few weeks laid heavy in the air between them.
"Fine, Pym, I'll tell them."
The other three switched their gaze.
"Azari please, Azari NO!"
"You can't keep something this big from everyone Pym!"
"How do you even know? I just wanted…"
"What? What'd you think? That by not telling us you were keeping us safe? Taking care of us?"
"ENOUGH Azari! What isn't Pym telling us?" James demanded, taking a step forward.
Azari took several steps forward, grabbing Pym's face with both hands. The younger bit his lip, pushing down sobs. Azari smoothed his fingers over Pym's cheekbones.
"Just say it."
"No."
"Come on, say it."
"I can't."
"Why won't you just… be honest?" Azari's voice broke and Pym pulled away.
"How can I?"
A month earlier
Pym grinned cheekily at his brothers. Francis Barton had long since become a brother in their little troupe.
The children of the Avengers.
The next Avengers.
His sister, Thorunn, was scouting the skies to see where their next targets were.
"No, absolutely no risks this time, Pym." James warned, "I don't care how smart you think you are."
"Hey! My last risk SO paid off!" Pym smirked.
"Pym, you make us worry and that distracts us too." Azari muttered.
Pym frowned, "But it worked!"
Azari gave him a look, "And I almost got my guts spilled because I was too busy looking at you. How is that for smart, Pym? Unlike the legendary Wolverine, I have no healing factor."
The fifteen year old he was speaking to, the youngest on the team, chewed his bottom lip and avoided Azari's gaze.
"Okay," he mumbled, "I'll be more careful." He watched for the signal, like the other boys. "Do you think Thorunn-"
"Shh, Pym," Barton muttered, his body tense. Pym knew what that meant. Danger was close. He got ready.
The fight was like any other. Robots were on them constantly and there seemed to be more every time they culled some. Everything was going fine, that was, until Pym saw an opening. The Perfect Opportunity. Yes, at the moment, Pym's brain was all science and little sense. He dodged an attack and at his small size, zipped into the robot's body. Making the arms fall off, he was working through the circuitry, aiming to find a certain part of machinery, when suddenly an electrical shock made him grow. He began to panic as he didn't stop, becoming gigantic, but by then he was dizzying. The shock had severely hurt him and before he knew it he was blacking out against the dirt, amidst shouts.
"Pym! Pym!"
The boy found himself on the dirty ground, cheek smudged with it.
"Pym, you idiot."
Big brown eyes met a slightly darker shade. He instantly recognised them as Azari's and tried to reach out but found it too hard to move.
"Henry Pym Jr, it's really hard to stop you bleeding if you don't shrink back." Thorunn cursed.
Pym frowned, his brain felt sluggish and foggy.
"C'mon Pym, just think and… you can do this. We all know you can do this. You just need to calm down and shrink. Just like normal." James said, keeping his voice even and rubbing Pym's arm.
The youngest teen managed to pull himself together enough to shrink, eyes remaining unfocused.
"They've badly fried him," Azari mumbled, kneeling and picking up the yellow and black clad boy. He turned on his heel and headed for where their ship was hidden.
It didn't take long for the never wavering Black Panther to lay into the boy in his care.
"You told me you wouldn't do this kind of thing." And with the help of the blonde Thorunn, he removed Pym's shirt.
"Needed… the pieces." Was the weak reply.
"And yeah, almost get killed and give away our position in the meantime. Bad choice, Pym." James commented from the doorway. Francis was busy flying the airship.
Pym shivered, burning up. Everything was on fire and kind of hazy. He flopped back down like a rag doll after Azari let go of him. The elder boy's face pinched in worry.
"I don't like this." Thorunn turned to the doorway, calling out, "Barton?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you go faster?"
Azari, meanwhile, was beginning to panic. "Pym, Pym no, don't close your eyes."
The youngest of the Avengers was succumbing to his head injury. "Dark… need sleep."
"No! No! No sleep," Azari was becoming frantic, hitting Pym's face and shaking him, "No! Pym! Stay awake."
James and Thorunn watched in horror as Azari's efforts were to no avail. Their younger brother simply shivered and let his eyes close.
Characters: Tommy Shepherd, Billy Kaplan, Teddy (Dorrek) Altman, Nate Richards, Cassie Lang, random X-men, random Avengers
Shipping: Tommy/Nate, background Billy/Teddy, minor flirty hints of both Nate/Cassie and Tommy/Cassie
Rated: M
Background Info: This is set in my friend Jessie's AU of Alchemist Twins. In a separate world Tommy and Billy are Thomas and William, alchemy twins with a family history made of legends. They're under pressure to continue the legacy, while travelling on quests with their pet Skrull, Dorrek. Skrulls are used in rings like cock fights. (Although, as time goes on Billy and eventually Tommy see Dorrek as more human and even give him a human name, Theodore.)
Nate is a blacksmith that often helps the Lady Cassandra, who is rather like Robin Hood and deals with bandits. Avengers are a type of Royal/Noble guard and I think the X-men are nobility if memory serves me correct. The Nate/Tommy came out of the SongMeme linked, and as it was short but a bigger story to be told, this came about.
There's a lot more headcanon but as it doesn't relate to this fic, I'll leave it be.Jess, I'm sure, will write about it in the future, it was amazing to share this with her and come up with more ideas. I had a ton of fun writing this for her and it's been over a few months that I've done it. (We all get busy!) If you have any more questions, ask her, or read the fics already up. I may write for this verse more in the future but for now, read on!
Fics in the same universe: The Song Meme That Started This (Please scroll to the bottom) Official Chapter 1 Showdown (Narrative of Skrull Fighting) First Concept Art Showdown Inspired Art
My song for this fic
Tommy woke up with a groan. He rubbed his head and came into contact with the slight light coloured stubble on his face. His eyes rested on his brother, wrapped up against their pet Skrull on the bed opposite. No need to wake him. He staggered to his feet. All they needed now was the map. Then they could leave this town and keep moving. Tommy sighed, drifting out the door of the Inn. Outside he used the pump to wash and shave his face clean, smooth. Water dripped down his chest as he stretched, letting it dry in the hot sun. He'd scored both himself and his twin invitations to the feast the next evening. Charming miss Cassandra wouldn't be too hard. Then he would have the map and all would be well. Eyes gazed over the fields and he felt a sharp pain in his chest. That looked like... No. It couldn't be. It wasn't... The figure in the distance had turned and Tommy quickly walked back inside.
The Inn was owned by a lovely woman whose name was Elizabeth. But everyone knew she was fondly called Betty by the member of the King's Guard known as Hulk Banner. The building itself was wooden, high ceilings and strong beams. Their room was not extravagant but comfortably furnished. Two beds. Plain sheets. A water jug on a simple table.
Tommy entered, ignoring Billy and the Skrull, who were now awake and talking. He rummaged through their things.
"Do we have ANYTHING good to wear for the feast?" He huffed, "Get up and be of use!"
Billy sighed, "How do I know?" He wasn't looking forward to leaving Teddy at the inn by himself.
"Because, aren't you meant to?" Tommy looked away, the figure had unsettled him and he knew it. He took the sheets off the bed, plain mesh. In a few moments the sheet had formed beautiful red robes that suited Billy to a 'T'. They were silk, delicate gold stitching, and even a cloak.
"Thomas… I'm not sure, what about Betty?"
Tommy rolled his eyes, "We'll return them to normal before we leave. Now just put them on." Turning his back to his brother, he started on his own. He couldn't face the other, not with his gut clenching.
… Nate…
Instead, focus was thrown into the sheet, green robes with silver stitching, buttons divine, cape long and clasps. He made a hat from the pillowcase, indicating Billy do the same. His brother never let himself get stubble anyway, so they were ready to go.
"Are you sure we cannot bring Theodore along?" Billy looked to him, "We could impress-"
"No. We're not. We want to go low key, get the map, or promise of the map, and get out." Tommy said, "Don't ruin this."
"Tommy, please-"
"NO." Tommy rounded on him, "We don't know this group well enough to know their stances on Skrulls, William. And that's final."
Teddy stayed on the bed, curling up a little.
Tommy made sure a pouch fitted under the clothing and then grabbed Billy's hand, pulling him from the room.
The feasting hall was large, spacious. The tables were laden with food, and Tommy let go of Billy's hand, standing taller.
"Don't slouch. Give off a good impression. We need that map." Billy gave him a look.
"What's wrong with you today?"
"Nothing." Tommy snapped and went down the stairs.
The dancing had begun, swishing skirts spinning as both middle and upper class melded. Tommy picked up an apple, biting into it as he watched them twirl around. He got the gut clenching feeling again. In blacks and greys, blacksmith colours, was a figure that reminded him all too much of someone he'd long left behind.
Nate spun Cassie, clapped his hands and walked a few steps. She danced around him and they placed their hands together, walking up the line.
Tommy turned on his heel, back to them and continued up to speak to the Lady Jean.
Maybe it was just someone who RESEMBLED Nate.
But as he sat down, Billy beside him, he found himself opposite a raven haired boy, with green eyes that drank Tommy in once he was seated. Cassie settled beside him, but green eyes didn't shift. Tommy found himself thrown back to a completely different place and time…
Tommy was eleven, he and Nate were best friends. Nate saw him different. He wasn't just Billy's twin and only Billy's twin. He wasn't just a legacy. He was a person. A person that Nate wanted to be around, race over the fields and tumble with in the grass. They had a place where they hid from the world, tucked up together in warmth and soft filtering light. The hay loft of the barn was their place. THEIR place. Just the two of them. They had figures made of tin that they had each made. They battled each other. Or peered through the hole of sunlight to spy on people outside in the fields. And sometimes, when they were tired or had arrived in pouring rain they just lay there, holding hands, and would smile at each other. There didn't need to be speech between them. There never needed to be, they could lie in perfect silence. Sometimes Nate's hand crept up to Tommy's heart. He said he just wanted to hear Tommy's heartbeat. Sometimes he kissed Tommy's cheek. Sometimes his palm. He'd tell Tommy he was worth something. He was worth everything. He had faith in Tommy. In Tommy's capabilities. He pulled Tommy out of any darkness around him.
Occasionally they wrestled in the fields. Tommy loved winning and he tried hard, but Nate was slightly bigger and stronger. On the rare occasions he won Tommy boasted about it for ages afterwards.
And when they came into the loft, dripping from the rain, Nate pulled him in close, holding the shivering form to his chest, and they'd laugh about how stupid they were to dash here in the rain together.
But Nate's parents hadn't liked it. They hadn't liked the disappearing pair, their closeness, Nate's fondness. They liked least of all the holding hands.
One day, as they scooted down the ladder…
Someone was trying to talk to him. He was entranced by the green eyes across from him.
… Nate leaned over, his hand gripping Tommy's wrist so he didn't fall the last few steps of the ladder…
It was apparently very important, Billy was tugging on his sleeve. Tommy registered that even Nate's lips were moving, speaking…
… Nate grew closer and his lips brushed against Tommy's cheek gently, "You okay, rascal?"
"Rascal? What are you saying rascal for?" Billy asked, tugging. Tommy blinked.
"NATHANIEL!" Nate's father was by the barn door. Nate let go of Tommy, jumping away slightly. Tommy's eyes widened and why did he feel so guilty? So scared? Maybe it was Richards coming over and grabbing his son roughly by the arm. Nate winced, dragged quite literally away. Tommy raced after him. But Richards' eyes were large, angry. Tommy swallowed his fear.
"Please, it was just a cheek kiss, sir!"
"Look what you're doing to my son! Filthy. I do not care if you are a legacy! Stay away from my son! Ya hear me?"
Nate reached out for Tommy but was yanked back, tears streaming down his face. Tommy began crying too.
"We weren't doing anything! We just play with toy swords or tin! That's all!" Tommy protested.
"Liars!" and Tommy was shoved backwards so hard he hit his head. By the time he got to his feet, Nate's father was up and around the corner with him.
Tommy had to watch a few hours later as the Richards packed up and left, he was pushed back again as Nate was shoved into a carriage and he chased after it, only to have his grandfathers men pick him up after a hundred yards.
He'd never seen Nate again.
Until now.
Nate's eyes were slightly wider at what Tommy had obviously said softly. The nickname Nate had for him.
"Rascal, an endearing term for someone not too well behaved. Also used for cherish roguish grin like that Miss Cassie has, do you not agree?" He gave her a charming smile. The Map. Priority number one. But his heart rate was up. He almost felt sure that Nate could hear it. And his eyes landed back on Nate's but Nate quickly looked away.
"I thought you were going to mention that Nathaniel was our childhood friend? Especially you, Thomas. You two were always running off together."
"Thank you for reminding me William, I was just trying to place Nathaniel's face." Tommy said, smiling at his brother even though he almost wanted to hit him.
Nate finally turned his gaze back to the two of them, focusing more on Billy.
"It's wonderful to see you both again, it has been such a long time. William," he turned, "Thomas," he nodded, "My family moved quite far away."
"Yes," Billy nodded, "I heard. I'm very sorry."
"Did Thomas ever mention details?" Nate's gaze was on Billy but Tommy could see the hands twisting on top of the table. Was Nate nervous?
"No, Thomas never mentioned anything about you after you left. I think my brother was quite… distraught." Tommy turned his gaze anywhere but Nate and his wringing hands.
"I see… it was a sad day, but I think we have all moved on since then."
Moved on? Moved on?! What was that meant to mean? Was it to do with him twirling Cassie around the dance floor or was it his stupid cold tone that was nothing like the warm, honeyed voice in the safety of their loft?
"Yes, we've all moved on," Tommy looked back at him, and gave him a smile. Nate's own smile dropped at it. The smile did not reach Tommy's eyes, green with flecks of blue all through them. They were as cold as ice.
"It's good to hear. I wouldn't have wanted to cause you any problems over the years."
"But Thomas-"
"William?" Tommy quickly turned to him, and gave him a look that read, 'Shut. Up.'
Billy got it, and looked over at Cassie. The blonde had been watching them all with a confused expression, mixed with slight amusement.
Nate drew out of a slight reverie and glanced to the girl beside him, "Forgive me, Cassandra. Thomas and William were good friends of mine before I moved here."
"I gathered as much," she nodded, giving him a warm smile.
"I apologise for taking attention away from yourself," Tommy said, the charming side showing itself once more.
Nate felt a stab of jealousy. Jealousy over what? Cassie getting charmed by his former best friend, surely. Then again he'd felt more in the past few minutes then he had since he was eleven. Far too much. Churning in his gut, a pain in his chest, warmth where he didn't think…
Cassie giggled, "It's fine! It's nice to see Nathaniel having friends."
Nate kept his gaze on his goblet.
"Someone as lovely as yourself must get many more than simply Nathaniel flattering you." Tommy commented, taking a sip from his goblet, eyes never leaving Cassie's face.
Nate moved his hands to his lap, not trusting himself. Finally, he took a sip as Cassie gazed back at Tommy.
Tommy's plan was working but he was starting to hate himself more and more by the minute and what he wouldn't wish to just leave this hall, leave the proximity to Nate and take out his feelings on some plank of wood.
"You flatter one too much, Thomas." Cassie tore her gaze away as food was placed in front of them on platters.
Tommy leaned back allowing Cassie to serve herself first.
"I do not think so, Cassandra. One must tell the truth while they have the breath to tell it."
Cassie blushed, and looked down at her plate. Nate cleared his throat.
"Oh please, Nathaniel, go before me." Tommy turned his gaze on Nate, "After all, we're not climbing ladders anymore. You don't need to make sure I don't fall."
Ouch. Why did that hurt? This was ridiculous.
"What ladder?" Nate replied cooly, and served himself, focusing on the ladle.
"By all means, ignore the past. It didn't mean all that much anyway, did it? We all… moved on, as you said."
So that's what this was about? He was stabbing at Nate's comment from earlier.
"It was all simple tin, though." Nate replied, as if pointing out the weather.
Tommy replied quickly, words harsh, "Tin and swords, you have to watch your back."
"Swords as sharp as tongues?" Nate's eyes blazed up to Tommy's, an intensity in his gaze that froze Tommy to the core, heating up his insides at the same time. It was the most peculiar feeling.
"Rather swords sharp like carving words than honeyed tones and kisses. Those always lead you astray."
What the hell was THAT meant to mean? Nate found an anger building.
"Perhaps some place honeyed tones in a warped reality that never existed."
"Perhaps some are falser than any falsehood. A façade, it's all they have."
Fuck Tommy. Fuck Tommy and anything he thought he understood.
"Perhaps some don't understand anything in this world."
"Perhaps some think they understand everything, and only God understands everything. Or so they say." Tommy turned his attention to Cassie, "What do you think of it, Cassandra? Do some have masks they use for the world?"
Cassie nods, "I think so."
"Do you know I've studied astrology," Tommy stood, serving his brother now that Nate had finished, "But in all my time I found no brighter a star than the one at this table. You." He handed Billy his plate and started for himself, "Are you interested in astrology, Cassandra?"
She nodded a little, slightly in awe of him.
"Perhaps, if my brother and I stay long enough, I can teach some to you."
"I find it better to keep my mind on the ground, close to the earth, rather than high in the clouds." Nate looked at him with a steel hard gaze, "Fly to close to the sun and you will fall like Icarus."
"Better to dream and fall like Icarus, legend for years to come, then spend your whole life close to the ground and never amount to anything." Tommy quipped, "But Cassandra, as I was saying before I was interrupted, my brother and I need to continue on our way for a time. We were, however, attacked. Brutally, brutally attacked and our worldly possessions stripped from us. We managed but now, now we need a new map."
"Oh dear, were they wicked wicked thieves?" Cassie asked, mentally taking note. If she could get more details she could rid the world of this band, if she hadn't already.
"Dreadful. Awful." Whether Tommy was lying or not didn't matter. He would have needed a story anyway to get a hold of this map. Cassie wouldn't know the significance, or the markings, but Billy and he knew well enough. An alchemist could read it. An alchemist could see the things the others would miss.
"You poor boys." Cassie turned to Nate, "Isn't that horrible?"
"Terrible." But Nate was eyeing Tommy with something new. Could he tell how far Tommy was spinning it? That he had an aim in mind?
"We were hoping," Tommy seated himself, "That you could show us some of the maps in your hold and we could continue on our way."
"I have two. One I have no need of." Cassie nodded, "I could give it to you after we finish eating. I do hope you'll return to visit."
"Oh, William and I plan to, right brother?"
"Most indeed." Billy also gave her a brilliant smile.
"You are so kind, Miss Cassandra. I can see why Nathaniel is so obviously fond of you." Tommy began to eat.
This was too easy. How was this so easy? Maybe God was helping him because he was making even sitting here so difficult? Every time Nate looked up it was right at him. And as the meal went on, it got worse. Cassie had an obsession with tucking Nate's hair back. And each time Tommy felt more and more uncomfortable.
But it wasn't easy for Nate either. As the fruit was added to the table, Tommy immediately went for cherries, lips stained as red as ever, and the doors opened to allow for the bands to stream in, making Tommy cold for a time, ears, cheeks, nose and knuckles all tinting red too. Several of the girls, Cassie and a young Lady Katherine, often nicknamed Kitty, all stared for a few moments. Billy got to his feet to talk to Lady Elizabeth Worthington, married to Sir Warren Worthington. They owned much of the land, and it would be their forests that Tommy and Billy would pass through. If Billy could get them on their side, travelling would be much easier in the coming weeks. It had been Tommy's task for his brother. Billy was much better at talking to nobility who had the authoritative edge. Tommy was not always good at taking orders.
Nate was trying to ignore stares at the silver haired boy opposite him, his emotions churning like a storm at sea inside him.
"Would you do me a favour, if I may ask for more before I leave," Tommy said to Cassie, swallowing at the looks Nate was shooting him. It hovered in his peripheral vision like a truth he didn't want to recognise.
"Certainly," Cassie smiled at him.
"Dance with me?" Tommy smiled back.
Cassie immediately blushed and looked to Nate. He was trying not to appear sullen.
"By all means," he said, wishing he could just take it back the moment it left his lips.
This was surely over Cassie… right?
His stubbornness, his pride, his refusal to feel real emotion didn't allow him to back down and before he knew it, Tommy was leading Cassie to the floor. She twirled under his expert hands, grasped his palm, his shoulder, his hip. The silver haired enchanter whispered in her ear, tucked her hair back, laughed to something that had been said or happened.
And Nate found himself wanting to sink through the floor.
This NEVER happened. His anger was mounting. Unreasonable, unrelenting, venomous.
WHY? Why did Tommy have to appear like a ghost from the past, haunting him? He was fine. Life was fine. He didn't need this. And the confusion! It was all that stupid… stupid legacy child…
Now Cassandra Lang was leading the boy up the stairs, past the doors, into the hall. Wood closed behind them.
Cassie wouldn't do anything, would she? She was a good girl. A good girl that was enthralled by him, Nate. Not silly Maximoffs.
But Maximoffs were charming, clever, sly, cunning, sweet and… beautiful. Skin soft and supple…
Rascals.
He was shaking, quivering, getting to his feet and hurrying across the dance. Not listening to calling out from the Ladies. Up stairs and to that wooden door.
That opened when he got there.
"Oh, Nathaniel!" Cassie blinked at him, "Sorry for disappearing, I was just getting the map for Thomas."
The map. Of course.
That had been Rasc-Tommy's aim all along?
Tommy was looking curiously at him from over Cassie's shoulder.
"I was just… making sure you were okay, Cassandra," Nate said stiffly and turned on his heel, walking back down the stairs.
Tommy mingled with a few Ladies and Sir's for a time, Billy as well. He danced once with Katherine. He tipped his hat to the legendary Sir Henry, creator of many of the machinery which made life easier across the land.
Once he felt their duty had been done, Tommy tapped Billy's shoulder. His brother nodded, understanding instantly and feeling relieved. He wanted to get back and see Teddy, waiting for them in the room. Every minute that passed just made him secretly edgier, and miss his Skrull more.
Nate had kept tabs subconsciously on his former best friend the entire time. No matter who he was dancing with, or where he stood, Nate knew where Thomas Maximoff was. He watched as both Tommy and Billy approached Lady Jean and Sir Scott, bowed and thanked them for their time and invitation. With that they left, disappearing out the doors.
Nate waited for ten minutes before slipping out himself, without a word. He got to the courtyard and watched them leave. Would they be going for good right now?
Hopefully not. Hopefully they'd have to wait for tomorrow and gather more supplies. And hopefully… he would see Tommy in only a few hours.
The tavern was full when Tommy entered. Billy didn't understand why he was so edgy and upset and he couldn't be around that damn Dorrek right now. The map was safely sheltered in the room with them and they could keep each other better company than he could with either of them right now.
He needed head space. Nate's presence, face, body, it filled his every thought. He handed over a couple of gold pieces and soon had a large tankard of mead. Tommy drank a few heaving gulps and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring at the wooden tabletop. He didn't notice someone sit in front of him till the familiar voice spoke.
"Tommy."
No. NO. NOT HERE. NOT NOW. NOT AFTER THAT STUPID FEAST!
"Nate, go away."
"That's a lot of mead."
"That was a lot of lies that you were pulling earlier so is it really all that much different?"
"Lies?" Nate drank, eyeing him the whole time.
"Yes."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Right, right, none of it meant anything. I forgot. My mistake."
"You fall like Icarus."
"At least I flew."
"Why do you need to fly?"
"It's my destiny. A destiny you once believed in with me."
"… Times change."
"Obviously."
Nate eyed him once more, taking in the scruffy hair, messier than earlier, dirt from his shabby clothing having passed through the white as he pulled it over his head. The cloth was thin, worn, in unremarkable colours.
Yet, he still looked so gorgeous, dirt on his nose, flushed skin from the slight cold outside and change in temperature.
"If you're upset about what I said, don't be. I'm just being honest. None of that meant anything."
"So I don't mean anything?"
"Don't take it to heart, Maximoff. We were good friends. I'm just saying we all grow up and move on. It was a simple childhood thing. No need to be hurt. Time passes."
"Can you even hear yourself?" Tommy chugged from the mead.
"Yes, can you hear YOURSELF? What was with that today? Rather sharp swords and harsh words than honeyed tones and kisses? Are you TRYING to upset people or does it just come naturally to you?"
"As natural to me as a sword is naturally sharp."
"Swords must be sharpened," Nate pointed out, "and so must words."
"Unless, of course, those words cannot be anything but sharp." Tommy shook his head.
"Any word can sound sweet given the right motivation," Nate prodded, "But when that motivation is lacking one cannot expect it to come from nowhere."
"Unless, the sweetness had already been given in time and one would expect it to appear again, no matter the time passed."
"But time passed leads to change and when one changes they cannot change back."
"Then their original nature was a lie?"
"Not a lie, a misunderstanding."
"How can one misunderstand years of an original appearance?"
"When the appearance is not what one thought?"
"Then one altered their appearance? Their nature?"
"It was not altered. It was the original." Nate said it heatedly, a scowl crossing his features.
"Then the first was a lie." Tommy spat back.
"A misunderstanding!"
"WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO FIX IT?!" Tommy stood, glaring at him. Several people in the tavern stopped and turned to look at them.
"Sit down, Thomas." Nate hushed.
"No, why are you trying to fix it when you obviously don't care? Why bother? Just say that it was a lie and move on. You owe me no explanation. You don't care."
"It's for old times sake."
Tommy gritted his teeth, "Don't give me that." He walked out. Nate downed his mead, grabbed his own cloak and followed.
"What's your problem?!" He shouted in the street, hurrying after the silver haired boy, who was fast walking away from the tavern. But he wasn't walking back towards the Inn. Rather, he was walking in the opposite direction, towards fields, farms, and the forest yonder.
"MY problem? If I mean so little, if our past means so little then don't try to fix it with some rotten explanation." Tommy stated, angrily.
"It was a misunderstanding! I was young, confused!"
"Confused about friendship?" Tommy yelled over his shoulder.
"Yes!"
"What's confusing about friendship?"
"Friendships are more stable!"
"Just admit you changed! This has nothing to do with me!"
"I didn't change." Nate said, his turn to be angry.
"You did."
"I wasn't the real me when I was younger."
"Then admit your younger self was a lie."
"Time passes. People move on. Just accept it."
"Then maybe I'm all wrong. Maybe I just can't move on and I can't accept it, so throw me in the dungeons and lock away the key!"
Nate hurried forward, trying to reach Tommy quickly but the lean Maximoff was too fast and rushed forward into the field as if the leafy green in the dark could swallow him whole and save him.
"What's your problem? Why bring all this up over and over again?"
"Moved on? Simple tin? Warped reality?" Tommy shot back, throwing Nate's words in his face, every one feeling like a stab to his chest as he remembered them, "You started it, Richards." He was feeling more daring by the second, alcohol impairing his judgement.
"Well, it was simple tin! We were eleven!"
"Yes, but it MEANT something. At least to me. You were my best friend. You were… My family viewed me as one thing, and one thing alone. Another piece in the puzzle, part of a legacy and that was all. You… you saw so much more in me. You were the only one I could trust. And I know you didn't mean to leave- but I thought… I never thought you would do THIS to me."
"Do what? Not play along with all the little details you've built up in your head? We were friends, yes, Tommy, but nothing grande like you seem to think."
"Look into my eyes properly and say that," Tommy dared.
Nate was a metre or so away from him now, Tommy's light eyes dark, almost black in the night. His hair shone in the pale light from the moon and Nate found himself frozen.
"No."
"Do it, I want to hear you say that while looking me in the damn eyes, Nate."
"We were… nothing like you seem to think." Nate's voice was not confident. It shook, it lied.
"You. Filthy. Liar." Tommy spat. "If you weren't a liar back then, then you are now."
"You have no right to judge me!" Nate growled back, "You have NO IDEA what happened after I left you. No goddamn idea."
"THEN TELL ME." Tommy shouted, "TELL ME. ACT LIKE I'M YOUR FRIEND, NOT THE ENEMY OF THE STATE. SOME TRAITOR FROM A WAR CAMP."
"IT'S TOO HARD. YOU LEFT MY LIFE-"
"YOU WERE PULLED OUT OF IT. I NEVER LEFT YOU. I'D NEVER LEAVE YOU!"
"YOU WEREN'T THERE, ALRIGHT? AND I DEALT WITH IT. AND I HAD TO MOVE ON. AND… I HAD TO… YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND."
"THERE HASN'T BEEN ONE MINUTE THAT I HAVE NOT… YOU KNOW WHAT? FORGET IT. FORGET ALL OF IT. I MEAN NOTHING TO YOU." Tommy took a few steps back.
Thunder rumbled overhead.
"I'm not the Nate you used to know…" He said quietly.
"I can see that. I could see that from the moment you acted coldly with me. The minute you preferred Cassandra Lang's company to my own."
"Believe what you want." Soft raindrops pattered down onto them.
"That entire time you hurt me, disregarded me, and generally told me I was nothing to you. In every way possible you made that clear." Tommy hissed.
"What do you want me to say? TELL ME, THOMAS MAXIMOFF. WHAT. DO YOU. WANT ME. TO SAY?!"
The rain got harder with every second. Tommy stared at him as water soaked his hair, covering his eyes.
"I DON'T KNOW!" he screamed as thunder rumbled, rain poured and lightning crashed in the distance. "I DON'T KNOW!"
Both stood there, chests heaving. Neither knew what to do.
"It was a loft." Nate stated. "And we were friends."
"So you admit we were friends? Hah."
"I never denied we were friends."
"You said I was nothing." Tommy was shivering and shaking.
"Tommy… it's raining. Let's just stop."
"No. Go away. Leave me be. Leave me alone."
"Out here? In the rain and thunderstorm? Are you crazy?! That cloth does nothing."
"GO NATE."
"Idiot." Nate cursed. He grabbed Tommy's hand and pulled him along harshly, all the way up the hill and over another field to a barn, the only shelter anywhere near them. He didn't let go till they were inside and lit a lamp quickly. Tommy stood there shaking and shivering, teeth clacking for the moment.
"I didn't mean… to say you were nothing."
"It's what you've been doing for hours, please, don't take it back out of pity."
"It's not out of pit-"
"You see me shivering like this and you take it back, I understand SOMETHING about people's emotions, Nate."
"You always acted like you understood everything." Nate muttered.
"And what's THAT meant to mean?"
"IT MEANS YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING, THOMAS MAXIMOFF."
"YES? WELL TELL ME."
"WHY SHOULD I? YOU NEVER THINK THAT MAYBE WHEN I WAS TAKEN FROM YOU, THAT MAYBE THOSE REASONS FORCED ME TO MOVE ON? My parents didn't want me near you!"
"How am I meant to know anything when you won't say anything? When you," he shoved him, "treat," shove, "me like," shove, "dirt!"
Nate gripped his shoulders and shook him, "What? YOU APPEAR AFTER YEARS AND YEARS AND EXPECT ME TO BE THE SAME CHILD THAT LEFT YOU? THINK ABOUT THAT TOMMY. THINK ABOUT HOW STUPID YOU'RE BEING!" And that's when he realised that the water on Tommy's face was no longer from rain, but tears and the shaking wasn't just cold any more, it was sobs.
"By all means," he hiccuped, "tell me how bad I am some more. How stupid I was for crying and shutting myself off for months on end. For not caring about anyone else for years because of you, damn it. Tell ME HOW STUPID I WAS!" The anger was back in his voice, and he shoved Nate again, "Tell me!" But Nate wasn't letting go. He let Tommy hit him, hit his chest weakly again and again. Finally sick of the sound of Tommy's sobs and the fists Nate cupped Tommy's face. The other's eyes widened in surprise and he blinked, soft choking sounds, body still shivering and wet, nose red.
"You said I was nothing." He said, voice venomous, not letting go of his fight.
Still stubborn as ever. Nate didn't know whether he was thankful that Tommy hadn't changed too much… or to curse it.
"I know."
"I hate you."
"Then look me in the eyes and say it. I dare you."
Tommy gripped the front of Nate's shirt viciously, leaning up, "I. Hate. You." Nate's hands were still on his cheeks and Tommy tried to pull away then. But found he couldn't, Nate's hands not allowing him to go anywhere, keeping him there, that close.
"I said, look me in the eyes and say it. And you didn't." His voice was edgy, angry, "Don't say things if you don't mean them."
"Like you keep doing? Hypocrite." Tommy glared.
But suddenly he found his pouting lips against something entirely unfamiliar. Nate's were crushing his reddened ones, hands keeping him in place and at first he struggled to get back. However, he soon found himself moaning, pressing in, hands bunched in Nate's shirt winding around the raven haired's neck. With Nate's hands travelling down his sides, rubbing against soaking wet fabric and shivering skin he wasn't quite sure if this was real. They found his belt and Tommy knew he was gone. It was happening.
But isn't this where they'd been headed all along? Looking back, all those rainy afternoons, noses touching… as they'd grown up, maybe even back then, they'd known somewhere deep down that while innocent in the moment it meant something much more important.
Tommy's belt and pants fell away and he gripped Nate harder, both struggling to breath but neither wanted to end the first real kiss they'd ever shared. Because once it ended, would they have the courage to acknowledge it? However, when it ended and they stood there, deep breaths and startled wide eyes Nate was grabbing the front of Tommy's shirt, pulling him against him. Rough, workman's hands moved to get the sopping wet clothes off him. The white haired teen was struggling with his best friends belt, shaking and shivering. The moment wet skin made contact, Nate bit his lip to suppress a sound.
He couldn't remember the moment that he first realised Tommy was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, he knew, though, that it was sometime when he quite young. White hair catching the sunlight, freckles on his face, cheeks, under his eyelids, across his nose. This close, under the flickering light of the lamp, he could just make out the faint spots still. And it was that grin, the way his eyes lit up when he was happy, the way his blush would start out not on his cheeks but the tips of his ears.
Nate intended to get the smile, the light, the blush all in one go just now.
"You're perfect." He whispered, and he meant it. The sincerity echoed in his words, Tommy blinked.
"What?"
"You. You're perfect. Awe-inspiring. That's why every girl was all over you to dance, even Cassandra. That's why I couldn't keep my eyes off you."
The blush, there it was, a creeping red over his ears.
"I don't understand you at all." He muttered.
"What's there to understand?"
"First I'm anything but perfect and now I am perfect epitomised?"
"Just go with it, Thomas…" Nate whispered.
Tommy didn't want to go with it, quite suddenly he didn't. Lips moving down his neck were quite convincing, though. And he fooled himself into believing he deserved this, after all those years he had Nate with him, right up against him and that smile Nate had been waiting for appeared.
"Okay…" he returned, and Nate stared breathlessly for a moment at that marvellous expression and soft voice. As the reality sunk in the dark haired boy leaned in for a kiss, his hands resting gently on the younger's back, over what he remembered were beautiful pale shoulder blades covered with more captivating freckles. As the kiss grew deeper, more passionate, Tommy's hands scrambling for purchase on Nate's hips, the older felt an insane franticness grip him. It overtook him, his hands scratching at that white back, forcing Tommy to respond in kind, smooth hands threading into Nate's hair and tugging.
They were lost, completely lost in each other, kisses placed everywhere and anywhere. The legacy child was pushed until his back hit a beam that better allowed the blacksmith to run his tongue over smooth flesh, nip and suck as hands explored a body he thought he'd never obtain. When hands reached Tommy's bare crotch his eyes widened. As moans and whines fell from his best friend's lips Nate had never felt so much satisfaction at the responses you could get from another person.
"Nate…" Tommy whispered, forehead rubbing against the dark haired teen's shoulder.
"Yes?"
There was silence but he closed his eyes as butterfly kisses layered over the taunt column of his neck. With a shift of the hips, his rascal rubbed against him in just the right way.
Pulling away from the beam he quickly located a pile of hay, the softest thing in the whole barn. It wasn't hard to get Tommy beneath him, lying in the hay, moans and squirms and all manner of delicious replies to his many touches. Until, that is, Tommy said something that made him freeze.
"Take it back."
"What?"
"That this is all some warped reality I've built up in my head. That we didn't mean something besides simple tin. Take it back."
Nate blinked. Fuck. What was he doing?
He stood, backing away, picking up his clothes as he stepped back, heading for the door. Tommy was up in a moment, blocking his path.
"NO. You are not running! You are not leaving me again, not after that!"
"Tommy, stop it, look at us. Look at what we're doing!"
Tommy stared at him for a moment, "I don't hate you."
Nate blinked. When his friend took a step forward he maintained their distance by stepping back.
"You mean something to me. I liked kissing you. I want to kiss you again. I want you to kiss me back. I know you want to kiss me back. I know you want to touch me…"
Nate took a breath.
"You don't hate me either. I feel more with you, when I'm around you than anyone…" Tommy's voice broke and this time, when he stepped forward, Nate let him. He let him stare into his eyes, he let him kiss his cold lips, and kissed back. He was terrified. He was scared. Because every word that Tommy had said was true but the franticness overtook him again. He dropped the clothes and they were back in the hay, Tommy working himself up more and more by the second.
It suddenly hits Nate, hard, just how perfect this is. It's Tommy, gazing up at him in soft lamp light, green blue eyes raking over his features, his face. It's the soft silence and red lips parting and encouraging him to kiss back, before trailing down that pale neck. It's the fact that Tommy hasn't been with anyone else and he's Nate's, all Nate's, and that won't change. Because Nate was first. Nate always had him. It's the heat of their bodies together, as the rain and storm beats on outside, and the coldness of their barn makes them shiver. It's Tommy whispering,
"Just go with it, Nathaniel."
But the way he does it, so soft in his ear, like one of the secrets he'd whisper when they were kids that even then had sent shivers down his spine.
It's Nate not knowing what to do next, and blinking and then awkwardly raising his fingers to Tommy's lips. It's the silver haired boy sucking on them and shifting in the hay. It's harsher moans than before and practically keening as Nate stretches him. It's lips against Nate's cheek and dark hair being pulled. And then reassurance that he's okay. It doesn't hurt. Keep going.
It's the already worked up Tommy becoming even more so and begging, voice a little broken and edgy in the stillness of the barn for more. For Nate. For Nate in him. It's the nails digging into Nate's back as he enters, and the whines that vibrate against his neck. The whines become whimpers but the whispers are all "Don't stop, don't stop." The words are interrupted only by Nate's mouth, done exploring the contours of Tommy's shoulders, still slowly moving in. Each new inch getting a new mewl or sound. Freckled skin is shaking and Nate can't tell whether it's from the cold or the sensation. Those beautiful eyes are shut, and he continues to tighten, Nate constantly coaxing to relax. Breaths are shallow and as he clenches and unclenches Nate groans at the feeling. It's Nate finally thrusting and Tommy biting his lip, trying to stay silent and Nate's soft voice, the one from the loft, reappears enveloping Tommy in warmth as it murmurs encouragement into his ear. It's the thrusts becoming more frequent and Tommy whimpering, hands scrabbling at Nate's back and leaving scratches in their wake, body squirming beneath him. It's Tommy slowly lifting his hips, it's the slight brush of them, it's the screams as the thrusts become rougher. Then, as Nate rests his body flush against the pale skin, removing Tommy's hands from his back, it's the way their fingers intertwine and he holds them above white hair, resting his forehead against Tommy's. It's Tommy meeting his thrusts with a moan and blood weeping from his lip because he's bitten it so hard, opening his eyes to meet Nate's relentless gaze studying his expression as he fucks him. It's the arching and louder calls as Nate completely pounds him, the barest hint of a tear at absolute force. It's Tommy drawing him into a kiss and nipping his bottom lip just before he whines and whimpers and moans what could have been Nate's name but he's not altogether sure as the younger comes, eyes sliding shut. It's Nate, helping him ride his way through it though his floundering in his very limited knowledge of what to do, continuing to thrust. It's Tommy melting completely, a mess, legs wrapping around Nate's torso, chest heaving. It's Nate coming from Tommy's breath on his neck, warm body, pure scent. It's Tommy gasping for breath as something entirely new shoots through him and he's jelly, warm and sticky but shivering jelly in Nate's arms.
And it's Nate, right back at where he started, holding Tommy close after they got sopping wet in the rain as he shivers. Yet, it's a thousand times more intimate and utterly perfect than ever thought it would be.
When they wake up the next morning they find themselves intertwined and tangled, a ball of body heat between them. Groggily, Nate pulled away, and stood stretching. He had to help his best friend stand, feeling both guilty and proud at Tommy's pain and obvious wince. Their clothes were carried as they stepped outside, storm long since over. Nate knew the location of a tap nearby. Not a word was said as they cleaned themselves of their endeavor. Nate was the first to pull on his clothes. He had already turned to leave when he spun back and kissed Tommy. Not sweetly, not tenderly but roughly. Possessive. With that he was gone, off through abandoned fields.
Billy remarked on the marks on Tommy's neck, bruises on his arms, bite just visible at the junction to his shoulder. Tommy simply retorted that soon they must leave now that they had the map. Return after their latest quest. Shall they head out tomorrow?
It could be seen from afar when the alchemist twin approached the blacksmith the next morning. The twins were headed out of town. The blacksmith nodded in understanding as his best friend- it was rumoured since childhood!- explained. The two seemed rather detached. However, the blacksmith disappeared inside and returned with a small item he handed over to the alchemist. The alchemist stared at it in his hand before extending his free one and shaking his friend's. He hid the present under his cloak and headed to his travelling companions. They were soon in the forest, every step taking them further from the town of York.
Was Tommy scared he might lose Nate? Cassie was in the town still. He fingered the beautifully crafted dagger in its holder. As Nate had given it to him with a mumble of "Here, Rascal."
But the quest, the duties, they came first. Billy didn't have to worry. Eventually he could forget about the Legacy. But Tommy couldn't. He never could. Feeling emptier than earlier he turned his back to the fire and Billy warm in Dorrek's embrace.
Sometimes Tommy regretted not saying the three words on that first night. Maybe things would have gone differently. Maybe Nate would have joined him as they triapsed around. Maybe he would have had the strength to break free of the family bindings drowning him... Drowning him in misery and suffocating his every breath.
Maybe Nate wouldn't fuck him so hard and mercilessly. Bruised and blood weeping. Nate acted like the emotions were off the table. There were no more 'it meant something' or even 'I hate you'. And sometimes Tommy liked it, liked the lack of feeling and being so thoroughly pleasured. Except, sometimes, it just wasn't pleasureable. And he noticed it, all the little things- the possessiveness Nate had over all his body, the softer kisses to any patches of freckled skin, the jealousy at the girls that would pay him attention. And maybe that was what made it hurt more... That Nate clearly felt it too but couldn't bear to let down that wall since that first night. And yet... Tommy was too scared. Too scared of losing him again. He couldn't do it. Not again. That hole had been patched, maybe not mended. But Nate made him feel complete and he couldn't return to nothingness. So Tommy was scared. Too scared for three little words.
Tommy/Cassie fics in the same future universe as this one:
Uh-oh (By Holly)
Still Uh-oh (By Holly)
Moving In (By me)
This is pure fluff.
And dedicated to Holly. After the heart wrenching fic of 'The Box' and having other heart wrenching fic ideas (another Tommy death one, unattainable Billy/Tommy, Tommy being a weapon, and ideas for a fic of watching someone being tortured... I don't know either...) I decided to do something pure fluff. Holly gave me the prompt of 'Coffee'.
Now if anyone's wondering why Tommy and Cassie? Not that that's any more crack than what I usually write but if you are wondering, because it was unexpected for me too, it's because I roleplay as speediam and she is callmestature and for some reason there is such a huge dynamic between them, and a bit of sexual tension. To be honest I didn't really like Cassie until I met Holly, and now I talk to her consistently on the phone. Probably will write some Robin stuff after this one to run away from Tommy feels.
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Coffee
Cassie groaned as the coffee dripped into her cup. Why had she let Tommy convince her into buying a stupid coffee machine?
Because it tastes good, a voice in her head said.
"But it takes so longgggg," she whined out loud, and wished her throbbing head would just shut up.
She could remember the machine coming into her life though, one of those unexpected occurrences that you simply don't plan and it just slots in and you don't realise until later that it had just happened at some point. As if it had always been sitting there. She could remember that moment when Tommy had appeared with a huge box and set it on the counter. It was up and running in no time and she'd complained about the space it took and the time wasted waiting for that 'perfect cup' and he'd just winked at her and said,
"Try a cup."
She still had a hangover this morning from the night before last. At least, it felt that way. Maybe that was what she got for dating a barman speedster. A speedster whose metabolism got over alcohol far more quickly than hers.
She made another cup for her still sleeping boyfriend and headed back to their bedroom. She put his on his bedside table and then hers on her own before clambering back up beside him and nudging his ribcage with her foot.
"For someone not the least hungover you seem even more so than me."
"Stilllllllsleeping!" he mumbled into the pillow.
"You have to go into work later."
"Noparamedictoday."
"No, but you still have that barrrr thing you do?"
He groaned and lifted his head, "Why," he muttered. But it wasn't a question, just a statement of how much he didn't want to go. He sniffed and smelling coffee he sat up, picking up the mug and drinking.
"Mmmmmm, so good." He grinned at her. She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her own. "You're such a kid, except it's not hot chocolate but coffee."
He wriggled happily and kept drinking. "So, wanna walk me to work?"
"It's a block and a bit and I have stuff to do."
"C'mon Lang."
"Nope."
"Cassie, please?"
"Nuh uh."
"Casssssss," his cup was down on the bedside table and he was gently prying hers from her hand.
"Drink your coffee, Shepherd."
But her white haired boyfriend was slowly leaning in, his blue-green eyes focused on her lips and she found herself closing the gap. There's a soft unintelligible mumble against those firm lips and her hand moves over well defined muscle before she taps him and pulls away.
"Nice try buddy. You gotta go to work."
"Will you walk me?" He was giving her that look. That one where she couldn't resist what he asked and just slowly sighed and gave in.
No Cassie, you need to stop this. No giving in. He's not some kid with puppy dog eyes. She looked at him again.
"Fine."
The walk wasn't long and holding his hand the whole way, while he occasionally littered kisses on her cheek and neck, was better than sitting in front of her writing forms book with a report about sewerage due.
"Lang, you owe me a lifetime supply of ice cream sundaes." He picked a flower from one of the gardens, tucked it behind her ear.
She blushed at the gesture and then looked at him, confused by the mere suggestion, "What?"
"We made a bet." He hummed.
"How drunk was I?"
"Very."
"And you?"
"Starting to wear off."
"And what was this bet?"
"That you could walk straight."
She blinked, "And I was wasted?"
He laughed, "Yes."
She punched his arm, but that only made him laugh harder. "Retract the bet!"
"No!"
"You evil little ass!"
"Suck it up, Lang!"
"You're late."
"Hi to you too Holly." Tommy grinned and put on his name tag.
"You have to stop being late Shepherd. You're a 'manager', remember? Hi Cass." Holly sighed and wrote something down, "Did you want anything or just walking the puppy?"
"Puppy duties," Cassie said. There was a 'hey!' from behind the bar as Tommy checked something under the register.
"Still feeling hungover?"
"Yeah," Cassie rubbed her head.
"It's a tough life not being Tommy. Ugly, unintelligent but able to hold liquor and ignore side effects better than anyone I know."
There was another 'hey!' from behind the bar and Tommy popped up, pouting.
"Stop pouting Thomas, you look even uglier that way."
"Cass, don't leave me here with these hooligans!"
"Sorry Tommy, you gotta learn the hard way so they say. Maybe it'll toughen you up, be able to watch 'The Notebook' without crying." She leaned over the bar and kissed his lips deeply. Holly coughed before they separated and Cassie waved goodbye, heading home to her dirty assignment.
Once she was home she checked the fridge, not hoping for anything as neither of them had done the groceries lately. She was entirely surprised to see a bowl of strawberries with a note, 'Picked these up for you before work. Hope they help with the hangover. Next time don't try to keep up! love you, Tommy.'
((So this is AU in which they all didn’t meet until later in life. Cassie met Tommy two weeks after her 18th birthday. She’s 21 here.
I’m making the assumption that the YA are still all together but are accepted as doing so by the Avengers. There’s a two/three year age gap between Cassie and Tommy.
This fic was inspired by the lovely Holly and her piece of work.))
The Two Times Tim Drake Saved Tommy Shepherd's Life But Didn't Know It. Part 1.
Based on a RP idea where Tim Drake saves Tommy Shepherd since Tommy grew up in New Jersey and Gotham is in NJ. Tommy becomes part of the Batfamily. Now in this roleplay Tim is 17 while Tommy is 16. So here, in the fic, Tommy is 11 and Tim is 12. He's already Robin, the Joker is locked Arkham after killing Jason. If the timeline is still in place in two weeks Tommy would have vaporised his school.
Now if Tommy Shepherd had to put this day on a scale of one to ten- one being the best, and ten being the worst this would be a 9.6
Heat hit his face.
Make that a 9.8
"Hey brat kid," came an overhead voice, "want to apologise for your behaviour yet?"
Okay. Make that a 10.
The situation could not get worse. Really. This was worse than being locked up in the boiler cupboard. He was going to pass out soon. All this blood was rushing to his head.
"NO!" He shouted, stubbornly. No way was he giving these losers the satisfaction.
Today hadn't started out remarkable. His father had a hangover this morning, as per usual, and Tommy had been hit for breathing too loudly. His mother was out on a shift. When he'd gotten to school he'd ended up partaking in a fight and then lined up for their schools excursion.
How had no one seen that taking fifth graders to a nuclear power plant would be a problem?
Tommy didn't know much about superheroes or villains. He didn't have time for that stupidity. While other kids his age had been following Supermanly and Captain Avenger or whatever in the news Tommy had been cleaning up his house before his mother got home or trying to sneak alcohol away from his father in the hopes that if he couldn't find it, he wouldn't drink. So, to be honest, when they said that the guy who had set this up from Arkham jail, wherever that was, was a super villain it really didn't make much of a difference. Whether or not the Joker was famous didn't impact the here and now. These goons in their psychotic masks were more pathetic than scary to Tommy. And the plan to shut down the plant and threaten to blow it up with kids inside it all to test 'Batman' and his recent 'losses' seemed really stupid to Tommy. The local police were incapable of handling the Joker's weaponry which made everything even more ridiculous. Whoever this Batman was, Tommy kind of hoped he'd arrive soon. Not that he'd admit it. How cliche though. He'd be found by the superhero while dangling over enough heat to melt even the toughest steel in under a minute. His classmates had gone quiet on the other side of the door. Were these lunatics on a killing rampage now too? But wouldn't he have heard screams?
Of course it was probably his own fault he was dangling up here over the uncomfortable heat. He had been the one to glare defiantly when the idiots had appeared out of nowhere. He'd been the one to interrupt their speech and then quickly began laying punches to one of the masked men's gut, knocking him over. Another one tried to headlock him but he bit ferociously into the incoming hand as his teacher shouted at him to remain calm and stop aggravating the men carrying weapons. Finally one grabbed him by the throat, cutting off his air.
"We're really going to make this little one suffer, let him be a lesson."
"My everyday life's an absolute torment so do your worst." Tommy spat.
Well, tying him up in dipping chains had been a great contribution. He squirmed but instantly regretted it. His ankles felt worse than when his father had held him out of the top storey window in a fit of rage. That and falling into the heat below would surely count as his demise.
There was shouting now and the door burst open. Goons in masks running from a big dark figure. He heard the words, "Robin civilian!" and he felt himself be pulled up and away from the heat. He was dragged over to the platform by his shirt and laid there while small hands undid the chains around his wrists and ankles. He sat up running them and met the somewhat masked face of a boy slightly taller than him and possibly a year or so older.
"No need to worry, I saved you." He said sweetly, in a caring manner, "You're safe now." Was it just Tommy, or was this kid acting like he was much older than what he looked?
"I didn't need saving," said Tommy, rubbing his wrists and then slowly getting to his feet.
"… What do you mean? You were over beyond boiling temperatures, hanging upside down by a chain!" said the kid. Tommy pushed past him.
"I don't need saving. From anyone. I was handling it."
"How did you get yourself into that mess in the first place?" the kid was following Tommy down the stairs now, "All the other kids were in the other room."
"I said I was handling it. I don't need people's help."
"I just saved your life!" the kid was getting angry now, and Tommy could see it. Blue eyes glinted mischievously.
"Yeah, and how come you had to get the civilian while Batman was the one beating up all the bad guys? You not strong enough for that?"
The scowl deepened, "No! I could get any of them easily."
"I bet you're the weakest sidekick there ever was."
"Take that back."
"No."
"I saved your life!"
"I was doing just fine."
It was Tommy's smirk that did it and Robin pounced, tackling him to the ground and pushing him against cold steel.
"Take it all back!"
"No."
"Why… why did I even bother? You don't appreciate it."
:Get off me idiot."
"What? Who's weak now?"
"You didn't save me I was handling it myself."
Tommy shoved a hand at Robin's chin, tilting it up and away but Robin quickly grabbed both wrists and pushed them back down against the steel.
"Sorry squirt, nice try, just admit you're wrong."
"…Dick."
"Watch the language. How old are you? Eight?"
"I'm eleven!"
"No way. Look at you, you're tiny."
"I am not." He kneed Robin in the crotch and the boy couldn't help but yelp. He tightened his grip on Tommy's wrists who could only wince at the pain.
"You are. You're scrawny."
"Well how old are you?"
"That's classified."
"Oh Mr Big Shot. I follow around a mysterious guy. We both have masks and capes and we're so much better because we fight against psychos. If you're both so great how come it took you so long to get here? We could have all died. And even better, why is some guy organising Batman annoying task forces if he's in prison?" Tommy tried to knee him again but while Robin was busy attempting to block him Tommy rolled them. The two ended rolling some more, each trying to stay on top and shouting at each other until Batman himself grabbed Robin and pulled him away.
"I told you to get the civilian, not wrestle with him." He put Robin down and offered Tommy a hand. Tommy glared at it and turned his head away, getting up on his own.
"I don't need your help."
"Very well, then don't take it." said Batman, turning back to Robin. The older boy seemed ashamed of himself. "The rest of the other children have dispersed, along with their teacher. He's the only one left." He nodded his head in Tommy's direction.
"Kid, what's your name?" Robin asked.
"I don't give out my name, freakazoids." He said loudly.
"Do you think your parents will be outside waiting for you?"
Tommy laughed gruffly, "As if. They're probably not even worried. It'll be a disappointment that the psychos here didn't knock me off." He chuckled darkly and then turned, "It was nice meeting ya both… actually no it wasn't. See ya."
"Kid, wait, you can't just…" but he was gone.
Robin blinked and ran forward, looking for the younger boy. But there wasn't a trace of him.
"He's gone! Like a phantom just… gone…"
He looked up at Batman, "I'm sorry… he just pushed all my buttons."
"You'll have to tell me what he said later."
"Do you think those things about his parents were true."
"He had no reason to lie to us. Not every home life is a happy one. Let's go."
"I'll be glad if I never see his smirking, rotten face again."
Little did Robin III, Tim Drake, know that that smirk would become a part of his everyday life. And he wouldn't have it any other way.
Characters: Tommy Shepherd, Bart Allen. Young Avengers Team. Tim Drake’s Teen Titan team. Avengers. Justice League.
Shipping: Tommy/Bart
Rating: Current chapter- PG.
This was posted to one of my RP accounts.
terminlvelocity’s fault I’m writing this.
I liked this part a bit better that Part 2. The conversation might drag though. Oh well.
Warning, boy makeouts. Also I listened to Runaway by Maroon 5 and Human Nature by Michael Jackson and then the Glee version for this chapter. I think the HN song fitted the makeout, and Runaway just Tommy in general. Okay enough, enough.
Characters: Tommy Shepherd, Bart Allen. Young Avengers Team. Tim Drake’s Teen Titan team. Avengers. Justice League.
Shipping: Tommy/Bart
Rating: Current chapter- PG.
This was posted to one of my RP accounts.
Always for terminlvelocity.
This isn’t as good as the first one I don’t think… but I need to build up more interaction before I feel like they can really be, well, anything. So this is more interaction based. And I apologise if my Bart isn’t all that good.
