Flash Fiction Fills (Take 30) Final Part

[dracoqueen22]

For mistress_pirate
Prompt: Superbat, Alfred, “I would wait until he's had his coffee first”

Fandom: Justice League. Warnings: None

He wakes before Bruce so much as twitches and slides out of the bed without disturbing his lover. Clark, eager to impress, scurries downstairs. This is the first time he's quote-unquote been allowed to stay the night with Bruce. To share his bed without being kicked out in the middle of much-won cuddling.

He knows that Bruce has a butler. He and Alfred have commiserated on many an occasion. Still, Clark thinks it would be a nice surprise for Bruce to taste some good, old-fashioned Smallville home cooking. Of the breakfast variety. It also, possibly, might be something of a bribe.

Clark is elbow-deep in pancake batter and fresh-squeezed orange juice when Alfred joins him in the kitchen.

“Well,” the butler says with a bit of a dismayed look at the state of his kitchen. “I do believe this is the first time someone has beaten me to breakfast.”

Clark laughs. “Don't worry. I'll clean it up in a flash.” And he means it, too. Bend a little space-time here, zip around there, and boom, shiny kitchen. With great power comes great responsibility.

“I'm certain you will.” Alfred smoothly steps up beside him, easily inferring what Clark could use some help with and offering a hand. “Might I ask the occasion?”

“Just felt like it.” Clark shrugs, flipping pancakes with a deft flicks of his wrist.

“Hmm.” Alfred pulls a tray out of a cabinet and lines it with a nice cloth, setting it up with dishes for breakfast for two. “Well in that case, might I suggest some coffee to go with this orange juice?”

Clark snaps his fingers. He knew he'd forgotten something. “You're right. From the way he drinks it, I half-suspect his blood is coffee.”

Alfred chuckles. “A suspicion I have also grown.” He sets the pot to brewing and pulls down the necessary mugs. “Also, he's much more amenable to requests after he's had a cup or two. So I would suggest waiting until he's finished.”

“I don't know what you mean.” Playing dumb is one thing Clark Kent excels at. Or so Bruce has told him time and time again. Except Bruce likes to tease and say that pretending has nothing to do with it.

At least, Clark thinks he's teasing. Sometimes, it's hard to tell.

“Of course you don't.” Alfred performs a very exaggerated wink and dusts off his hands. “I think I'll go check on Master Tim. Good luck, Mr. Kent.”

“Thanks.” He's probably going to need all the luck he can get.

Clark ever so carefully arranges the breakfast, pours Bruce a steaming cup of coffee – black with a nudge of creamer – and picks up the tray. He inhales, tightens his buns of steel, and tells himself that his lover is not the most frightening person he's ever faced. He's taken down Darkseid for heaven's sake.

Darkseid's never had to face a grumpy Bat first thing in the morning though. Damn supervillains have all the luck.

Chin held high, Clark heads for the stairs with nary a rattle of dishware. Coffee first, then the food, then he'll ask. The worst Bruce can do is turn him down. Right?

For firegirl0
Prompt: Renji/Ichigo, rebound
Fandom: Bleach. Warnings: None

He keeps getting flashes out of the corner of his eye. A streak of black. A wink of bright crimson. The brief taste of familiar reiatsu. A prickle dancing down his spine.

A distant part of Ichigo leaps with excitement at each glimpse. A long buried part of him yearns to reconnect. The logical side of him pushes it all down with a ruthlessness that surprises even himself. And the bits of him locked down, squirreled away, trapped within a cage of his own making, begin to stir.

Ichigo doesn't want to wake up again. And yet, his heart hammers in his chest. He's so tired of walking in an endless dream.

It's a day-in, day-out drudgery of monotony. Wake up. Breakfast. Work. Dinner. Sleep. Sometimes, he mixes it up by going to the gym, having a swim. He avoids the workout mats, the training rooms, the boxing rooms. Too many reminders, too much temptation.

He doesn't have a phone, and even if he did, it wouldn't ring. He's years and half a country away from back then. It's too much distance and never enough. Then again, whatever has distance meant to them?

The space between his shoulderblades itches. Twitches from time to time. He walks and finds himself hunching just a bit, compensating for a weight he used to carry. He peers into shadowy corners at night and sleeps with a lamp on.

He dreams of blood and tears and faces dissolving into ash. He dreams of hot mouths, heavy hands, and the taste of another man's sweat.

Most mornings, he wakes thick and groggy, dreams chased away by heavy doses of doctor-prescribed sedatives. The days he forgoes his medication, he wakes up screaming. Better to medicate it all away.

He dreams of fantasies and unbelievable things. Lies that he knows are truths but no one he knows anymore would believe.

Sometimes, he takes the fire escape all the way to the roof and stands on the edge of it, looking down all ten stories at the busy street below. He remembers what it was like to fly through the open air, wind whipping at his clothes. So much freedom.

He wonders if he made a mistake. He knows this was the only choice to make.

He's still seeing flashes. Maybe they are there. Maybe they aren't. Maybe, like his doctor suggests, they are delusions of a reality he hopes to exist. Sometimes, it really does seem like it was all a dream. That the pain and the agony and the loss is the result of some twisted mind-fuckery of an equally twisted man.

Even the worst villains taunt their enemies with pleasure. With something that could be love but probably isn't because it's not real.

Ichigo has almost convinced himself that he really is crazy, except when he steps out his door the next day, keys in hand to lock his apartment behind him, Renji is there. Standing in front of the large window at the end of the hall, cocky grin on his lips, hair a bright complement to the gleaming sunrise.

Something inside Ichigo aches. Another part of him whoops for joy. A third, deeper part begins to stir. He swallows thickly. “Again?”

Renji jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Ready to save the world?”

Ichigo tugs down his tie, hearing his name shouted from inside him as though across a great distance. “More than.” He drops his briefcase, keys, everything. They hit the floor with a thud he barely notices as he hurries toward Renji.

Renji grins, socking him playfully in the shoulder. “Missed ya, bastard. Ya were gone too long.”

“Don't I know it. Let's get the hell outta here.”

He doesn't look back.

a/n: And that's the last of them. I won't be holding a FFF in May. It will, however, return in June. Now, back to writing my scifibigbang fic. I do hope you enjoyed.