Flash Fiction Fills Take 59 Part Two
Apr. 25th, 2015 12:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Two more fills for your reading pleasure, these two mostly fluff. :) Self-betaed. Enjoy!
For Anonymous on Tumblr
Prompt; G1, RatchetxWheeljack, winding down after a difficult day
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: Fluff, mentions of sex toys
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: FlashBat, do you ever smile
Fandom: Justice League Animated Verse. Warnings: fluff, slash, kissing, maybe a little OOC
a/n: Three more flash fiction fills to come, two are updates to The Art of Self-Destruction and the last is an update to Truth in Advertising. :)
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
For Anonymous on Tumblr
Prompt; G1, RatchetxWheeljack, winding down after a difficult day
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: Fluff, mentions of sex toys
They always start in the washracks because Wheeljack can be relied on to have all manner of chemicals spattered on his frame and Ratchet is just as bad. Oh, they are both careful as it is, but accidents happen and it never hurts to indulge in a good rinse.
And then it's back to their shared quarters for a mutual polishing and repainting session. Which is always an adventure because Ratchet is ticklish and Wheeljack can't sit still and they often have to start over as a result. And sometimes the polishing leads to other activities and they never make it to the rest of the routine.
If fatigue, however, proves stronger than temptation, they curl up together on the berth, sharing a box of energon goodies as they watch an Earth movie. The rule is that they can’t feed themselves, only each other, and this, too, sometimes leads to more energizing activities.
They take turns picking the movie because Wheeljack likes cheesy romances, especially Disney ones so he can sing along. Ratchet prefers Westerns and John Wayne, but they both agree that Science Fiction is worth mocking and a good laugh until it sends them both into recharge.
After dinner and a movie, if there is still energy to spare, comes game time, usually on a weekly basis. It's a fun challenge and the goal is to see who can come up with the kinkiest, most ridiculous and yet effective interfacing toy.
Wheeljack, much to Ratchet's consternation, wins four times out of five. Their neighbors aren't happy about it either. Ratchet can be loud given enough incentive and Wheeljack can be quite inspiring.
Of course, Ratchet discreetly gifts said neighbors with some previous week's winners and the complaining usually stops. Ratchet suspects it's a force of habit now and the loudest among them – Prowl – is just angling for free toys.
He can be sneaky like that.
Ratchet isn't very upset with Wheeljacks' repeated victories. Every win is an opportunity to make use of said toy and Ratchet is an enthusiastic test subject. If they are lucky and share the next off-shift, Wheeljack drags out their box of fun from beneath the berth.
Ratchet, in those times, sends out a mass 'do not disturb' comm and woe be unto the Autobot who doesn't heed that warning.
The Decepticons had certainly learned their lesson. Ratchet's nickname, after all, had not been given to him by fellow Autobots.
But when it's all said and done, their night always ends the same: snuggled together on the berth. Wheeljack likes to lie on top of Ratchet, his helm pillowed on Ratchet's windshield as their legs tangle together. Wheeljack likes to listen to the steady pulse of Ratchet's spark beat. Ratchet likes to lightly stroke Wheeljack's winglets, lulling his partner into recharge.
And, as always, the best part of every night is when they get to wake up together the next morning.
And then it's back to their shared quarters for a mutual polishing and repainting session. Which is always an adventure because Ratchet is ticklish and Wheeljack can't sit still and they often have to start over as a result. And sometimes the polishing leads to other activities and they never make it to the rest of the routine.
If fatigue, however, proves stronger than temptation, they curl up together on the berth, sharing a box of energon goodies as they watch an Earth movie. The rule is that they can’t feed themselves, only each other, and this, too, sometimes leads to more energizing activities.
They take turns picking the movie because Wheeljack likes cheesy romances, especially Disney ones so he can sing along. Ratchet prefers Westerns and John Wayne, but they both agree that Science Fiction is worth mocking and a good laugh until it sends them both into recharge.
After dinner and a movie, if there is still energy to spare, comes game time, usually on a weekly basis. It's a fun challenge and the goal is to see who can come up with the kinkiest, most ridiculous and yet effective interfacing toy.
Wheeljack, much to Ratchet's consternation, wins four times out of five. Their neighbors aren't happy about it either. Ratchet can be loud given enough incentive and Wheeljack can be quite inspiring.
Of course, Ratchet discreetly gifts said neighbors with some previous week's winners and the complaining usually stops. Ratchet suspects it's a force of habit now and the loudest among them – Prowl – is just angling for free toys.
He can be sneaky like that.
Ratchet isn't very upset with Wheeljacks' repeated victories. Every win is an opportunity to make use of said toy and Ratchet is an enthusiastic test subject. If they are lucky and share the next off-shift, Wheeljack drags out their box of fun from beneath the berth.
Ratchet, in those times, sends out a mass 'do not disturb' comm and woe be unto the Autobot who doesn't heed that warning.
The Decepticons had certainly learned their lesson. Ratchet's nickname, after all, had not been given to him by fellow Autobots.
But when it's all said and done, their night always ends the same: snuggled together on the berth. Wheeljack likes to lie on top of Ratchet, his helm pillowed on Ratchet's windshield as their legs tangle together. Wheeljack likes to listen to the steady pulse of Ratchet's spark beat. Ratchet likes to lightly stroke Wheeljack's winglets, lulling his partner into recharge.
And, as always, the best part of every night is when they get to wake up together the next morning.
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: FlashBat, do you ever smile
Fandom: Justice League Animated Verse. Warnings: fluff, slash, kissing, maybe a little OOC
“Do you ever smile?”
He listened to the squeak squeak rustle of Wally swaying in his chair, pushing his weight from one foot to the other. In motion, always in motion. It was a consequence of being the Flash.
He let Wally sit in his chair if only to keep him in one place. Because if Wally wandered around the Cave then he Touched things and Bruce did not like Wally Touching things because that often resulted in him Breaking things. Things which could be fixed, or Wally would fix at superspeed, but still. Broken things. Bruce did not like Broken things.
“Do you?” Bruce countered. His eyes focused on the monitors and his fingers tapped away on the keyboard, but he was fully engaged with Wally.
It was the concession he had made. If Wally was present and he was not actively working on a pressing case, Wally would get his attention. So long as he could be allowed to put some effort in on the computer. Crime had decreased in Gotham, but Batman was still needed.
There was one constant he could not completely eradicate: supervillains refused to rehabilitate and the police were ill-equipped to handle their category of madness.
We're all mad here.
Sometimes, Batman thought that there was some truth to be found in the Mad Hatter's frequent soliloquies.
Wally scoffed. “I'm always smiling,” he said. Scuff, scuff, scuff went his tennis shoes across the concrete. He could be up and dressed in a matter of seconds. And it was cold in the Batcave, he complained.
Hunger, too, had been a constant complaint until Alfred had seen fit to stock a snack box for Wally's consumption. Wally was Alfred's favorite.
Bruce paused and glanced over his shoulder. Wally had folded his arms across the back of the chair, resting his chin upon them. His green eyes were focused on Bruce, bright with curiosity.
“That's my point.” Two quick presses of his finger and he'd saved his work, though the scan would continue in the background. He turned toward Wally. “No one's that happy.”
Swing. Swing. Swing. Wally frowned. “No one's that broody either. I know you can smile. I've seen pictures. Dick showed me.”
Dick poked his nose into people's business because he could never let well enough alone. And Bruce had not needed the reminder that Wally was only a few years older than his ward. Or that they were best friends either.
This was awkward enough as it was. Whatever this was.
Also, way to redirect the conversation. Wally was far cleverer than he let others think. Just like the amount of good cheer he carried with him. Oh, most of it was genuine. But Batman knew a mask when he saw one.
“I do smile,” Bruce said and he left his console, crossing the floor toward Wally.
His partner straightened on the chair, looking up as Bruce stood in front of him.
“I'm not talking about for the cameras,” Wally said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Or when you're doing your billionaire philanthropist thing. There are times when you're happy, right?”
Or what he meant to ask, with those bright green eyes, was 'are you happy with me?' And there was a simple, easy answer to that.
“Yes,” Bruce murmured, leaning down toward Wally. He meant to kiss the speedster on the forehead, but Wally tipped his head up instead and well, Bruce was not one to ignore an enthusiastically given invitation. Especially not one he wanted to accept.
Their lips brushed together, chaste at first, but Wally was hungry in this, as all things, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of Bruce's lips before pushing within, sharing the flavor of the two packs of cookies Alfred had left for him. Oreos, judging by the chocolate and cream.
Wally made a happy noise in his throat, the chair squeaking beneath him. Bruce was almost tempted to leave his work aside for the night and take Wally upstairs.
But then his console beeped, the search algorithm completed, and a list of three potential locations popped up on the screen. Duty called.
Bruce ended the kiss, ignoring the scuff of shoes against concrete as Wally protested.
“I could take care of it,” Wally said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Be back super quick. Then both of us could call it a night.”
Bruce snorted. “And let rumors of the Flash moving to Gotham perpetuate again? I don't need the Trickster wandering my way for a second time.” Honestly, two jokester villains in Gotham was two too many. He had his hands full with the Joker without adding the Trickster's convoluted plans to the mix.
Wally put on a fake frown, a pout that had far more draw than it should have. And Bruce really was tempted. The matter at hand was more one of financial loss than any true danger. But if he let himself be swayed by Wally every time, well, he'd never get anything done. It would only get easier and easier to convince himself to take it easy and that, Bruce couldn't abide.
“I'll be back as quick as I can,” he said, pulling his cowl back into place. “The night is young.” For Batman anyway. It was barely midnight.
Wally fixed him with an affectionate smile. “I know.” He never complained, which might have been the most surprising thing of all.
Bruce's previous lovers liked to claim they understood what they were getting into, but all of them left eventually. Maybe they thought they could fix him. Maybe they thought they would be the ones to change his dedication. But Wally didn't try. He just accepted Bruce, compromised, and didn't push.
Bruce looked at him, a warmth blossoming inside, and sometimes, he dared give it a name. Not one he spoke aloud, but acknowledging it was half the battle. But words were a problem.
So Bruce stole another kiss, let it linger compared to the other one, and then forced himself to leave, carrying the taste of Wally with him.
Spin squeak spin.
He didn't have to look behind him to know that Wally was grinning from ear to ear.
He listened to the squeak squeak rustle of Wally swaying in his chair, pushing his weight from one foot to the other. In motion, always in motion. It was a consequence of being the Flash.
He let Wally sit in his chair if only to keep him in one place. Because if Wally wandered around the Cave then he Touched things and Bruce did not like Wally Touching things because that often resulted in him Breaking things. Things which could be fixed, or Wally would fix at superspeed, but still. Broken things. Bruce did not like Broken things.
“Do you?” Bruce countered. His eyes focused on the monitors and his fingers tapped away on the keyboard, but he was fully engaged with Wally.
It was the concession he had made. If Wally was present and he was not actively working on a pressing case, Wally would get his attention. So long as he could be allowed to put some effort in on the computer. Crime had decreased in Gotham, but Batman was still needed.
There was one constant he could not completely eradicate: supervillains refused to rehabilitate and the police were ill-equipped to handle their category of madness.
We're all mad here.
Sometimes, Batman thought that there was some truth to be found in the Mad Hatter's frequent soliloquies.
Wally scoffed. “I'm always smiling,” he said. Scuff, scuff, scuff went his tennis shoes across the concrete. He could be up and dressed in a matter of seconds. And it was cold in the Batcave, he complained.
Hunger, too, had been a constant complaint until Alfred had seen fit to stock a snack box for Wally's consumption. Wally was Alfred's favorite.
Bruce paused and glanced over his shoulder. Wally had folded his arms across the back of the chair, resting his chin upon them. His green eyes were focused on Bruce, bright with curiosity.
“That's my point.” Two quick presses of his finger and he'd saved his work, though the scan would continue in the background. He turned toward Wally. “No one's that happy.”
Swing. Swing. Swing. Wally frowned. “No one's that broody either. I know you can smile. I've seen pictures. Dick showed me.”
Dick poked his nose into people's business because he could never let well enough alone. And Bruce had not needed the reminder that Wally was only a few years older than his ward. Or that they were best friends either.
This was awkward enough as it was. Whatever this was.
Also, way to redirect the conversation. Wally was far cleverer than he let others think. Just like the amount of good cheer he carried with him. Oh, most of it was genuine. But Batman knew a mask when he saw one.
“I do smile,” Bruce said and he left his console, crossing the floor toward Wally.
His partner straightened on the chair, looking up as Bruce stood in front of him.
“I'm not talking about for the cameras,” Wally said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Or when you're doing your billionaire philanthropist thing. There are times when you're happy, right?”
Or what he meant to ask, with those bright green eyes, was 'are you happy with me?' And there was a simple, easy answer to that.
“Yes,” Bruce murmured, leaning down toward Wally. He meant to kiss the speedster on the forehead, but Wally tipped his head up instead and well, Bruce was not one to ignore an enthusiastically given invitation. Especially not one he wanted to accept.
Their lips brushed together, chaste at first, but Wally was hungry in this, as all things, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of Bruce's lips before pushing within, sharing the flavor of the two packs of cookies Alfred had left for him. Oreos, judging by the chocolate and cream.
Wally made a happy noise in his throat, the chair squeaking beneath him. Bruce was almost tempted to leave his work aside for the night and take Wally upstairs.
But then his console beeped, the search algorithm completed, and a list of three potential locations popped up on the screen. Duty called.
Bruce ended the kiss, ignoring the scuff of shoes against concrete as Wally protested.
“I could take care of it,” Wally said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Be back super quick. Then both of us could call it a night.”
Bruce snorted. “And let rumors of the Flash moving to Gotham perpetuate again? I don't need the Trickster wandering my way for a second time.” Honestly, two jokester villains in Gotham was two too many. He had his hands full with the Joker without adding the Trickster's convoluted plans to the mix.
Wally put on a fake frown, a pout that had far more draw than it should have. And Bruce really was tempted. The matter at hand was more one of financial loss than any true danger. But if he let himself be swayed by Wally every time, well, he'd never get anything done. It would only get easier and easier to convince himself to take it easy and that, Bruce couldn't abide.
“I'll be back as quick as I can,” he said, pulling his cowl back into place. “The night is young.” For Batman anyway. It was barely midnight.
Wally fixed him with an affectionate smile. “I know.” He never complained, which might have been the most surprising thing of all.
Bruce's previous lovers liked to claim they understood what they were getting into, but all of them left eventually. Maybe they thought they could fix him. Maybe they thought they would be the ones to change his dedication. But Wally didn't try. He just accepted Bruce, compromised, and didn't push.
Bruce looked at him, a warmth blossoming inside, and sometimes, he dared give it a name. Not one he spoke aloud, but acknowledging it was half the battle. But words were a problem.
So Bruce stole another kiss, let it linger compared to the other one, and then forced himself to leave, carrying the taste of Wally with him.
Spin squeak spin.
He didn't have to look behind him to know that Wally was grinning from ear to ear.
a/n: Three more flash fiction fills to come, two are updates to The Art of Self-Destruction and the last is an update to Truth in Advertising. :)
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
