divine-my-own-future:

likeamantra:

He pulled away, turning back to face the city. “It doesn’t really matter, anyway. If you’re not bothered, then why should I be?”

A plume of smoke drifted east, contrasting starkly against the black waters. Sirens echoed against concrete and stone, sending a confusing array of noise at the pair of vigilantes. It didn’t make for a very romantic setting. Jay’s phone pulsed, an update from Henri. [Arsenal took a bullet in Trillium Park. He’s back at HQ. Starfire is en route to the Mob scuffle on Channel Island.] He looked back up, frowning.

“Batsie…I should get going. Duty calls." 

One last kiss, and he was over the edge, slipping his helmet on as he free-fell to the ground. A grapple stopped his momentum, and he was on his bike in minutes.

So much for normal.

With a hasty embrace he was gone and her fingers splayed into the air as if trying to grab onto a shadow. Barbara moved to the threshold of the roof, elbows planted on top of the railing, weight shifting from the balls of her feet back down to her heels — teetering right on the edge. A sigh pulled from taught lips, and with a hard swallow she forced the tension out of her shoulders. Barbara could feel her jaw start to clench, her stomach lurching.

"See you.” The words were thrust forward into the empty night as a chill of a lonesome gust of wind rolled over Gotham’s skyline. Apprehension drew over her like a bothersome, itchy blanket, and she jumped out, free falling two stories before throwing out a line and floating softly to the ground. She could still taste him on her lips, smell him on her clothes and smile drew over her mouth. 

            Duty calls.

divine-my-own-future:

The edges of Gotham began to dissolve around them, and for a moment she was no longer moving, just standing in awe of poetic words and pure praise. Then instantly she was hyper aware; pink clambered up her neck, staining her cheeks. Embarrassment coated her mouth and words stuck somewhere in the back of her throat.

“What can I say risky is my middle name. Although, typically my middle name is stubborn.” Her mouth softened into a smile as she tipped her chin up, attempting to keep him at eye level. “Does anyone ever truly work alone in this city? Don’t worry about me, Hood. I do alright.” Barbara shrugged, sarcastic lilt spilling over her tongue.

“Maybe I like the assumptions ––” Before she could conclude her statement, he had pulled her dangerously close, lips meeting and connecting seamlessly. Her muscles felt like they were thawing, arms wrapping tighter around his shoulders. 

He pulled away, turning back to face the city. “It doesn’t really matter, anyway. If you’re not bothered, then why should I be?”

A plume of smoke drifted east, contrasting starkly against the black waters. Sirens echoed against concrete and stone, sending a confusing array of noise at the pair of vigilantes. It didn’t make for a very romantic setting. Jay’s phone pulsed, an update from Henri. [Arsenal took a bullet in Trillium Park. He’s back at HQ. Starfire is en route to the Mob scuffle on Channel Island.] He looked back up, frowning.

“Batsie…I should get going. Duty calls." 

One last kiss, and he was over the edge, slipping his helmet on as he free-fell to the ground. A grapple stopped his momentum, and he was on his bike in minutes.

So much for normal.

divine-my-own-future:

Barbara dramatically rolled her eyes, sneering as she shook her head. “Here I thought I was in shape. Never good enough for the great and powerful Red Hood.” She slid her right hand over the crest of his shoulder, splayed hand sitting high on his back. Her gaze fluttered away from his face, casually hanging on the imposing horizon surrounding them. The streets, the rooftops, had become completely and utterly theirs in the last year. If possible she felt more at ease and comfortable with him than anyone else and she felt the contentment relax her shoulders down.

“French assassin.” She rolled the words over her tongue a few times as if trying to physically taste the preposterous statement. If it had been anyone else she wouldn’t have even remotely believed them. “Of course.” A sincere laugh escaped her mouth as she rested her head lightly against the armor covering his chest. “Once upon a time I was a classically trained dancer, anything you can throw at me, I can take.”

Letting out a small satisfied sigh, Barbara nodded her head. “Pretty sure the secret thing was all your idea. Didn’t want to hurt your reputation, or didn’t want your friends making fun of you for hanging out with a bat. I don’t answer to anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Explains the mile long legs. Ballet, i always assumed. You move like…”
He stopped, aware of the small blush creeping up his face.
“Like moonlight on a snowbank. Soft and smooth and silent, like you’re not really part of the world.” Embarrassed, he shrugged. “Weightless, Batsie. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, and I’ve grown up around killers and ninjas since i was four feet tall.”

“You’re totally alone when I’m not around? No one running logistics in your ear, nothing tying you to help? That’s risky, Batsie. You never know what dangerous killer might decide to make a move on you, take you by surprise on a secluded area.” As he spoke, he leaned closer to her, his words barely carrying over the traffic noises below. “People might make assumptions about your character, based on reckless behavior with a knave like me.” He kissed her, pulling her hips to his as his tongue swirled around hers.

divine-my-own-future:

“Sorry,” Barbara cupped a hand to her ear. “I can’t understand you. Something about me being the better vigilante, right? Shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.” Bounding up from her seated position, she sucked in her bottom lip between her front teeth, cautious smirk playing at her mouth. She watched with curiosity as something flashed over his face, something she didn’t quite comprehend. Something, she assumed, he was trying to obfuscate. 

Standing with her hands on her hips, Barbara grabbed at his arms, attempting to pull him up. “Trying to serenade me? It won’t work. I’m a hard egg to crack.” A brief burst of laughter escaped her lips, hanging in the air before she tried to hoist him again. “You’re heavier than you look.”

“So, you sing, you shoot bad guys, you bring me hot dogs from the stadium, but…” There was a glimmer in her eye as she placed their hands together, weaving fingers against his. “Do you dance?”

He laughed as she failed to lift him, knowing he was nearly three hundred pounds, armor and weapons included. “You’re gonna need to work out a bit more to lift me, Batsie.” But he stood a little taller, letting her lift him a few inches. When she darted around him, holding his hands up, he smiled.

“I was taught to dance by a French assassin while living in Rome. What do you like, a waltz? Two step? It’s been a few years, but still. I think I can manage.”

A speaker in the Hood played in the backgroumd, Elvin Bishop’s Fooled Around and Fell in Love. The dance was slow, soft, and totally different for them. The deadly assassin Red Hood, cradling the willowy vigilante Batgirl, dancing int he cold night air. Bruce would have been furious.

With her head on his chest, he whispered to her, barely carrying above the wind and street noise. “It’s really a shame we’re supposed to keep this a secret, Batsie. It’s hard enough with you working solo. I’ve still got a group asking me where I keep going.” He paused, still swaying slowly. “Don’t you have someone who wonders where you go?”

divine-my-own-future:

The crest of her eyebrow moved into a cheeky arch; lips pursed into a half smile, half irritated smirk. Barbara’s eyes rolled, shaking her head in a curt manner. There was never a stale moment between them and it was something she had come to appreciate, even revel in.  It wasn’t as if the other aspects of her life were mundane – she did dress up in full costume and fly across Gotham’s rooftops for fun, but he had kept her on her toes. Kept her patrols fresh. Kept her curious. Kept her wanting more.

The flicker in his eyes briefly sets her heart fluttering, a skyward spiral she never wants to stop. There is defiant challenge hidden in his words, and she was getting very good at reading between the lines. Snatching the bag, she scoffed, opening one of the pouches and shoving the half-eaten cookie back in.

“I stood in line for hours for that crumbled pastry and you want bread?” She wet her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, faux irritation rolling over her shoulders. 

“Hey!”

His objection, mouth still full of cookie, came out distorted and hard to understand. He faked a pout, crossing his arms in mock anger.

“Man can live on bread alone, you know. Trust me. I was full on Aladdin as a kid.”

It was true, however sad it was. Years spent as a street rat, stealing what he needed to survive. He’d given Batgirl the basics, but she didn’t know the gritty details. Stabbing the security guard, Tom. How he’d stayed in the apartment with his dead mother’s body until food ran out. No one needed to know that.

He faked a smile, laughed, and then turned away from her, gazing out over the cityscape. He sighed, then quirked his mouth into a grin.

“I can show you the world, Batsie. Shining, shimmering-splendid.”

divine-my-own-future:

“Oh, I definitely think you’re all of those things. An accountant slash plumber slash carpenter slash undead assassin saving Gotham from itself.” A grin tugged at her mouth as she rested her chin in her hands.

“I almost forgot.” Digging into one of the pouches on her belt, Barbara produced a small brown bag. “It’s your fault if they’re nothing but crumbles.” Stamped on the outside of the bag was the logo for a small local bakery in North Beach. Once a month locals lined up, hugging sidewalks and buildings, the queue curling around for blocks, for the chance to purchase the matriarch of the Leuzzi family’s famous pizzelles.

North Beach was one of the few old Gotham neighborhoods to avoid gentrification. A hidden jewel among superstructures and towering metal. Barbara had seen first-hand the ill effects shifts of money brought to her beloved city. The neighborhood she had grown up in had been bought and sold three or four times while she was away at college. Urban redevelopment, that’s what the real estate investors called it, but it was little more than a money grab veiled in venture capitalist terminology. The playground she had spent her days exploring, her respite from the concrete jungle, had been demolished to make way for clean chrome and glass; the old oaks and cedar trees that lined the streets removed for fresh cement and fire hydrants. Gotham’s future, Gotham’s saviors, the newspapers proclaimed, but anyone that grew up in Gotham knew that neither was true.

“Next time don’t tackle me and maybe your cookies won’t be dust.” Barbara gazed up, observing the stars, like tiny pieces of rock salt scattered across the cloudy sky. It felt like there was electricity in the air, as if the city was awakening for the evening. The sensation prickled against the exposed skin on her face, bringing a rosy blush to the apples of her cheeks.

“Hey, Leuzzi’s! Score.”

He tore the package open, popping a small chunk into his mouth. It was true, he could have been gentler. But then again, she would never go easy on him. Ever. That was cheating, and she didn’t allow that.

“You know,” he said, holding up the wrinkled bag, “you could always try harder, and this wouldn’t be an issue. Or get better snacks. Like bread! You can’t crumble a good loaf of bread. Trust me. It’s sturdy food.”

He grinned, his eyes gleaming in mirth. 

“Or, like I said. Don’t lose. Your choice.”

divine-my-own-future:

Barbara rested against the roof, weight evenly distributed along the curvature of her spine, green eyes lazily raking across the horizon. There was a latent, knee-jerk reaction of worry and fear that stirred when Hood admitted to seeking out her civilian identity.  The adrenaline involuntarily leaking into her system wanted her to drop boot to sheet metal and bolt until she was safe. Put miles and miles between them.

She was always careful, borderline obsessive, about protecting her identity. But she had become soft around him – trusting. She’d unconsciously dropped her guard on multiple occasions. Rash, but as she snuck a glance of him from the corner of her eye, memory of his lips on hers only moments before, there was understanding. Maybe she didn’t care if he knew who she was. The comprehension of possible exposure pushed her up to a seated position, legs crossed underneath her.  

It really wasn’t the disclosure she was worried about. It was the likely rejection. The knowing tell when someone realized who she was: the daughter of Gotham’s commissioner, a humble librarian. Nothing special; awash in mediocrity and muted tones.

Her body felt exhausted, but her mind continued to sharp wakeful crests and low valleys. Worry drew across her brow as she released a pent up lungful of air. “You wouldn’t want to know me. I promise.” She realized almost instantly she was wearing her insecurities visibly on her expression and she used a small chuckle as concealment. “It’s complicated, isn’t it? Everything that isn’t,” Barbara pointed to their costumes. “This.”

She was always like this; self deprecating, but serious. So harsh on herself, like she truly didn’t like who she was when she wasn’t wearing the cowl. It was odd, Jason thought, because she was so confident as Batgirl. But of course he still wanted to know her secrets, her life. 

“It’s only complicated if you make it that way.” A lie, but not malicious.
“This-what we have now-isn’t hard. It’s…it’s just different.”

From fast food on bridge columns to ice cream on skyscrapers, they’d had their dates with an flourish and uniqueness that made this courtship, or whatever the fuck it was, distinctly different. Add in the fact that they didn’t really know what the other looked like, and you had a flair of mystery that gave an already electric relationship a spark of danger.

“Besides, Batsie. You never know. I could be some mild mannered accountant in my other life. Maybe a plumber, or a carpenter. Or” he paused, grinning. “Maybe I’m an undead assassin, back from the Void to clean up the world of evil.”

Of course, that was basically true, but who would believe that?