Fic: Super (thanks for asking) 1/3
Mar. 24th, 2011 03:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oroburos69Title: Super (thanks for asking)1/3
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lady_of_scarlet and iesika
Rating FRT
Warnings/Features: Tentacles! :D And Fluffiness...lots of fluffiness
Disclaimer: Characters and setting are the property of DC comics.
Summary: Superboy regains his powers in the form of tentacles. Robin finds himself distracted and distressingly hormonal.
Fandom: DCU Young Justice, takes place directly after The Sins of Youth” arc.
A/N: Written forkirax2 for winning my offer at the gulf aid charity auction. Only seven months late! :D Also, major thanks to the_protagonist for all her help in getting this story off the ground.
“Robin, dude. My powers are gone. What kind of use can I be to Young Justice without super powers?” Kon stared morosely into his glass, teenage pathos oozing off of him in thick angsty waves. “I can’t even lift a salt shaker!”
“Kon. Seriously. Use your hand,” Robin advised him, refilling Kon’s drink.
“What?” Kon sounded oddly offended by that particular piece of advice.
“Use your hand to lift the salt shaker.”
“Oh.” Kon sniffed, the bubbles from his root beer tickling his nose. “But you’re missing the point, man. We’re Young Justice. We’re super heroes, with super powers. And I don’t have super powers anymore!”
“Okay, two things Kon,” Robin began, giving Kon his very best ‘grow up’ look. “One, your powers will come back. Two? I don’t have any super powers, and I lead this team. Capisce?”
“...Capisce?”
“Nightwing used to say it. Does it work?”
“Um, yeah. No.” Kon gulped down the last of his root beer and stood up, knocking the barstool into the counter. “You really think my powers will come back?”
“Eh. Fifty-fifty.” Robin wobbled his hand to indicate the uncertainty inherent in making any kind of prediction.
“Rob!”
“What?” Robin blinked innocently behind his mask. Much of the effect was lost, especially considering the grin that threatened to split his face in two.
Kon frowned, pouting. Robin rolled his eyes and sighed. “Look. Have you tried? Using your powers, I mean.”
“Of course!” Kon replied. “I’m trying right now—”
The salt shaker teetered and fell off the counter, shattering when it hit the floor.
“Did you—?” Robin asked, excited in spite of himself.
“Hey guys! I found fruit loops!” Bart blurred into the room and jumped onto the counter, holding up a bright red box.
Robin had almost gotten used to Bart appearing out of nowhere, the key word being almost. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a second. “Bart, keep your feet off the counter.”
“They’re kind of stale, and there was, like, a lot of dust on them, but they taste pretty okay, do you want some?” Bart swung his feet over the edge and drummed them against the counter. The tempo was akin to kettle drums, rattling the cabinet doors on their hinges. He looked at the salt shaker. “Oh hey, did I do that? I’m sorry, I can—” the spill blinked out of existence “—clean it up.”
Kon sighed. Robin frowned.
“Did I do something wrong?” Bart disappeared for a second. “I got you milkshakes.” He held out condensation-frosted glasses.
“Um. Thanks Bart,” Robin said, grabbing the strawberry one before Kon could get it.
Kon sighed again (theatrically). “Yeah. Thanks Bart.”
“What’s that?” Bart asked, darting toward Kon. He tilted his head, staring at the air above Kon’s shoulder with intense interest. “It’s shiiiiiny.”
“...What are you talking about?” Robin looked, but there was seriously nothing but air.
“How about some personal space, man?” Kon twisted away, glancing over his shoulder to see what Bart was talking about. Bart took a step forward, following Kon, and tripped over his feet, stumbling into Robin.
“Aw. The shiny’s gone.” Bart pouted, bouncing back to his feet.
“There was nothing there,” Robin insisted, even as he glared suspiciously at the back wall. He thought he might have seen a trail of smoke or steam rising up behind Kon, but maybe it was just a trick of the light.
“There totally was. It was, like...shiny. And stringy.” Bart paused and looked at Kon thoughtfully. “It...sparkled.”
“How old are those fruit loops?” Kon asked. He picked up the box and looked at the best-before date. “Oh man. Rob, can you get food poisoning from cereal?”
Bart swayed, growing pale and a little green, apparently just from the suggestion.
“I don’t feel so good,” he whispered, bringing a hand to his mouth. Bart staggered, then tripped again, falling to his knees.
“How do we not have a number for Max Mercury?” Robin asked...well, he asked the room in general. No one was paying attention to him.
Bart curled up tighter under the blankets they’d found scattered around the hotel. Robin could see the top of his head and a couple of fingers. The rest was just a formless mass of shaking fabric.
“Why is he still sick? He should be better,” Cassie’s only slightly panicked question barely covered up Bart’s pained moan.
“I don’t know,” Robin replied, dialing Oracle’s number. She’d respond if she wasn’t busy. The phone rang through, so yeah, she must be busy. Robin yanked his hand away from his hair, because he was starting to pull it out.
“Damn it.” Robin tried Nightwing’s number, because, hey, there had been a speedster on the Teen Titans.
“Hey Robin, what’s up?”
Thank freaking god. Robin calmed down, and presented the situation in a calm, cool, and collected manner. “Impulse ate bad fruit loops and he’s sick and he’s not getting better yet! Why isn’t he getting better yet, Nightwing?” Robin demanded, just like Batman taught him.
Kon looked up from trying to pour water down Bart’s throat. He was getting the sheets really wet, and Robin wasn’t sure if Bart actually drank any of it. “Does he know what’s wrong with Bart?”
Robin stuck a finger in his ear to block out Cassie and Kon. Suzie was just watching, but her smoke was spinning in tiny tornadoes, darting off into the corners and skimming nervously along the floor.
“Whoa, calm down. What kind of sick?”
“Fruit loops. Food poisoning. He ate fifteen year old fruit loops,” Robin explained into the phone, raising his voice to show that he was serious.
“...Seriously?” Nightwing sounded like he was about to start laughing, which was stupid because it wasn’t funny.
“Yes, seriously! He’s been sick for an hour! His arm broke and it healed in thirty minutes! What’s wrong with him?” Robin was keeping calm, because it was a fucking emergency and you keep fucking calm in an emergency.
“I don’t know. I’m going to call Wally and we’ll be right there, okay?” Nightwing was definitely trying to be reassuring. Unfortunately, it was not working, as Robin was not reassured.
“He’s hot, but he’s shivering,” Kon added helpfully, poking Bart through the blankets. Bart whined and wiggled away.
“Nightwing, he’s got a fever.” Robin was not panicking. He was so not panicking.
“Robin, I’ve got to go, so I can call Wally.”
“Okay, great, what are you waiting for? Go!” Robin snapped the phone shut and turned to Cassie. “Can you get, like, aspirin? And—and cough syrup?”
“He’s not coughing,” Kon pointed out.
“My stomach hurts.” The pile of blankets shook violently. A bucket of—okay, that was seriously gross. Robin closed his eyes and counted to ten.
“Pepto-Bismol?” Robins suggested weakly, “And you can empty the bucket.”
“Um. No,” Cassie said, backing away, her sneakers floating about an inch off the shag carpet. “As leader of Young Justice, I think it’s your responsibility to empty the puke bucket. I’ll get stuff from the drug store.” With that, Cassie flew out the window, ruffling the curtains with the speed of her departure.
Kon and Suzie nodded in agreement, as far away from the bucket as they could get while still being in the same room. Actually, Suzie was halfway inside the wall, so Robin’s not sure that counted, and they should really plaster some of those cracks, you know?
“Fine. You two get to find Bart another bucket,” Robin ordered, slowly approaching the bucket. He had his gloves on. How bad could it possibly get? he thought warily.
The smell was horrible. Bart must have been using the blankets as a ventilation mask or something, because holy crap, that was repulsive. Robin tilted his head back, held his breath, grabbed the bucket, and thought of England.
“Gross,” Kon said.
“Nasty,” Secret agreed.
“New bucket!” Robin ordered them, then paled. “Oh god, how many boxes did he eat?” The porch door stuck, and Robin shoved the bucket against it until it opened, then took a deep breath of fresh sweet air. It smelled a little bit like skunk, but it was vastly preferable to bucket smell.
“Hey, Robin? We’re here,” Nightwing called from the front door.
Robin dumped the bucket and grabbed the hose. “Bart’s on the couch. Fix him,” he shouted through the open door. He could hear Wally and Nightwing talking while he twisted the knob on the faucet, destroying about a dozen spider webs in the process.
Nightwing wandered out the door, yawning. “Wally’s gonna slow him down so he doesn’t get dehydrated. Where is everyone?” Nightwing, despite the fact that it was ten in the morning after a patrol night, looked fantastic.
Robin had technicolor puke in a bucket. Life was really unfair sometimes. “Kon and Secret are finding another bucket. Cassie went to get aspirin and stuff.”
“Oh.” Nightwing stretched out, rolling his shoulders in a way that would leave most people screaming in agony. “Bart’s gonna be okay. Wally said that food poisoning tends to hit them hard because of their enhanced metabolisms.”
“Yeah.” Robin realized that he may have panicked, ever so slightly, over Bart being sick.
“So, you doing okay?” Nightwing smirked. Stupid, pretty Dick.
“Yeah. I guess we’re okay.” Robin dodged away from Nightwing’s hand, accidentally on purpose spraying him with the hose. “It’s been kind of boring, but a lot like a vacation, too.” Robin turned the water off and tipped the bucket upside down, draining it.
“Is Superboy...wait, what’s that? It’s...sparkly.” Nightwing turned, staring at the porch window, absently pulling at his wet costume.
“You, too? You didn’t eat the fruit loops, did you?” Robin followed Nightwing’s gaze. “It’s a window. They’re usually pretty shiny...did you eat the fruit loops?” Robin asked. He was pretty sure that he threw the box away. It wasn’t on the counter, was it?
“What? No. It’s not the window. There’s this sparkly line thing. It’s moving.”
“Is it a spider web? Because there are a lot of those.”
Nightwing reached out toward the invisible sparkly thing and the window cracked into three pieces.
“Huh.” Nightwing stepped back. “I can’t see it anymore.”
“Someone must be developing a new power,” Robin said, opening the porch door and ushering Nightwing inside.
Nightwing raised an eyebrow. It made his mask look crooked, something Robin took a lot of petty pleasure in. “That happen a lot?”
“Secret figured out that she can pop popcorn by waving her hand through it, yesterday.”
“Handy.”
Robin saw something twinkle from the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there.
“It tasted dusty, but it was pretty cool to watch,” he answered absently, glancing at the flicker of light coming from the other direction. It was just sunlight shining off the bucket.
“I feel slow,” Bart murmured, his eyes wide and dazed. “S’weird.”
Wally sighed as he leaned back. “You won’t have super speed for the next couple of days.” He glanced at Nightwing before continuing. “I have to get back. Do you need a ride?”
“Want me to stay, Robin?” Nightwing asked, trying ruffle his hair.
Robin dodged and shook his head. “We should be good.” He set the clean bucket down beside Bart. “Can you let Batman know I won’t be able to patrol tonight?”
“Okay.” Nightwing shrugged, his costume rippling and twisting at the hip, something vaguely shiny shifting under the spandex. He scratched at the misbehaving fabric and it looked normal again. “If you need anything else, just call.” He nodded. “Wally—” They disappeared before he finished speaking, the front door swinging frantically in their wake.
Bart squirmed out of the blankets as soon as they left, shoving them into a crumpled pile at his feet. “It’s too warm,” he complained, “and I’m thirsty.” He looked at Robin pleadingly, lips mere millimetres away from a pout.
Robin nodded absently, watching a blurry line twist slowly across the room. It wavered like hot air over asphalt, shimmering in the dim light.
Kon and Suzie tumbled back into the room, Kon holding a bucket triumphantly, Suzie floating behind him. “We found one!”
“There were four of those in the foyer. What took you so long?” Robin asked, pouring Bart a glass of water.
“The Flash seemed like he was in a bad mood.” Suzie morphed her arm into Wally’s face. He snarled silently, gnashing his teeth.
“We didn’t want to interrupt,” Kon chimed in. “And is Nightwing really your brother?”
Robin mimed zipping his lips shut, and handed the water to Bart.
“What? Come on Rob, we aren’t going to be able to guess your identity if you have a brother,” Kon objected.
“Fine. No, we aren’t related. But being trained by Batman gives you an automatic, life long bond with all his other students,” Robin explained, sitting on the edge of the couch. Bart was now slow enough that he was certain of his ability to dodge.
“Really?” Secret asked, swirling around the couch to float next to Bart. She ran her fingers through his hair, quite literally.
“Totally. Also, I think Nightwing always wanted siblings. Like, scads of them.” Bart handed Robin the empty glass and crawled onto his lap, dragging a blanket with him. “Bart, I can’t put the glass away if you’re lying on me.”
“Don’t care,” Bart mumbled, “my head hurts.” He looked up at Robin hopefully.
“Cassie should be back soon,” Robin replied, hooking a toe around the bucket and dragging it a bit closer, just in case. “Kon, can you put this in the sink?” Robin handed Kon the glass.
“What? I’m not doing your dishes—”
“Puke. Bucket.” Robin used a bit too much emphasis on the word puke, but he thought it was probably justified. Bart shifted, and Robin wrapped his arm around his waist to keep him from falling. Bart sighed and wiggled closer, grabbing one of the blankets and scrunching it into a makeshift pillow.
“Fine.” Kon took the glass, heading toward the kitchen.
The screen door creaked loudly. “I got the stuff. Is Bart okay?” Cassie slammed the door, forcing a rusty shriek out of the old metal.
“Yeah. The Flash slowed him down so he wouldn’t get dehydrated and stuff,” Kon explained, returning from the kitchen.
“How long did you two eavesdrop?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow. He’d been talking to Nightwing when that had come up.
Suzie billowed in an invisible breeze. “A while?”
“Not long,” Kon said innocently. He was crap at innocent. It was so totally obvious that he’d never had to lie to his parents about his superhero career.
“Well, that’s good. Do you still need this stuff?” Cassie asked, holding up the Drive-Thru-Drugs bag.
Bart rolled over, managing to jab Robin with his elbows at least three times in the process. “Want!” He reached out toward the bag, then groaned and staggered to his feet. “One second,” Bart said, heading toward the bathroom.
“Is he okay?” Suzie asked Robin. Her aura fluttered nervously.
Robin got up to follow, then paused as the door to the hall creaked open before Bart touched it. “Uh. Probably?” he said uncertainly. “It’s kinda weird when he’s not fast.”
“Okay.” Cassie shrugged. “Want to change the couch to a bed? I brought movies.”
“What movies?” Kon asked, already moving the coffee table out of the way. He grabbed the blankets and dragged them off the couch, dumping them to the side and stripping out the wet ones.
“Fantasia 2000; Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; American Psycho; and Chocolat.” She dropped the bags beside the couch and helped Kon pull the bed out. The springs started squealing as soon as she lent her strength to the task, like they were begging for mercy or possibly death. They really needed a new sofa bed.
Robin started layering the dry blankets on top of the foam mattress. “Can we watch American Psycho first? My dad wouldn’t let me watch it.”
The bottom blanket smoothed itself out, starting in the far corner and working its way down.
“Did you do that?” Suzie asked, whispering in his ear, tiny bursts of cool air brushing across his neck. She watched in wide-eyed surprise as one of the pillows fluffed itself.
“No,” Robin denied, kind of freaked out. A little intrigued, but mostly freaked out.
“Are you sure we should even be watching it?” Kon asked Robin. “I mean, I saw it in theaters, and I really don’t think... Okay, long story short? We probably shouldn’t be watching it with Bart. I’m not sure he knows about the birds and the bees and, like, stuff, and explaining it with American Psycho as an example will probably screw him up for life.”
“Good point,” Robin agreed, remembering the movie trailers. “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon?” The blanket rippled, like something was tugging at its edges to straighten it out.
“Yeah, sure.” Kon headed toward the kitchen, a faint shimmer warping the air behind him.
Cassie turned on the TV and hooked up the new DVD player Robin had brought last week (it wasn’t like he was using his allowance for anything else). “Is American Psycho bad? I asked the clerk and he said it was a really good movie.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s rated NC-17.” Robin squinted at the kitchen door. It looked like the light was curving around something invisible. Reflecting off something?
Cassie shrugged. “Oh. Anyway, I asked my mom, and she’s okay with me staying overnight. Are the rest of you going to do the same?”
“I told my dad I’m sleeping over with some friends,” Robin said, “and Kon and Suzie don’t have anywhere else to be, right?”
Suzie nodded, floating toward the hallway. “Bart’s been gone for a while. Do you think he’s okay?” Her smoke curled and lifted, pushed up from below by something almost solid, but not quite.
“I’ll go check on him,” Robin volunteered. He started toward the door, then stopped and grabbed the Pepto-Bismol from the Walgreen’s bag. Bart might need it.
Next
Beta:
lady_of_scarlet and iesika Rating FRT
Warnings/Features: Tentacles! :D And Fluffiness...lots of fluffiness
Disclaimer: Characters and setting are the property of DC comics.
Summary: Superboy regains his powers in the form of tentacles. Robin finds himself distracted and distressingly hormonal.
Fandom: DCU Young Justice, takes place directly after The Sins of Youth” arc.
A/N: Written for
kirax2 for winning my offer at the gulf aid charity auction. Only seven months late! :D Also, major thanks to the_protagonist for all her help in getting this story off the ground.“Robin, dude. My powers are gone. What kind of use can I be to Young Justice without super powers?” Kon stared morosely into his glass, teenage pathos oozing off of him in thick angsty waves. “I can’t even lift a salt shaker!”
“Kon. Seriously. Use your hand,” Robin advised him, refilling Kon’s drink.
“What?” Kon sounded oddly offended by that particular piece of advice.
“Use your hand to lift the salt shaker.”
“Oh.” Kon sniffed, the bubbles from his root beer tickling his nose. “But you’re missing the point, man. We’re Young Justice. We’re super heroes, with super powers. And I don’t have super powers anymore!”
“Okay, two things Kon,” Robin began, giving Kon his very best ‘grow up’ look. “One, your powers will come back. Two? I don’t have any super powers, and I lead this team. Capisce?”
“...Capisce?”
“Nightwing used to say it. Does it work?”
“Um, yeah. No.” Kon gulped down the last of his root beer and stood up, knocking the barstool into the counter. “You really think my powers will come back?”
“Eh. Fifty-fifty.” Robin wobbled his hand to indicate the uncertainty inherent in making any kind of prediction.
“Rob!”
“What?” Robin blinked innocently behind his mask. Much of the effect was lost, especially considering the grin that threatened to split his face in two.
Kon frowned, pouting. Robin rolled his eyes and sighed. “Look. Have you tried? Using your powers, I mean.”
“Of course!” Kon replied. “I’m trying right now—”
The salt shaker teetered and fell off the counter, shattering when it hit the floor.
“Did you—?” Robin asked, excited in spite of himself.
“Hey guys! I found fruit loops!” Bart blurred into the room and jumped onto the counter, holding up a bright red box.
Robin had almost gotten used to Bart appearing out of nowhere, the key word being almost. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a second. “Bart, keep your feet off the counter.”
“They’re kind of stale, and there was, like, a lot of dust on them, but they taste pretty okay, do you want some?” Bart swung his feet over the edge and drummed them against the counter. The tempo was akin to kettle drums, rattling the cabinet doors on their hinges. He looked at the salt shaker. “Oh hey, did I do that? I’m sorry, I can—” the spill blinked out of existence “—clean it up.”
Kon sighed. Robin frowned.
“Did I do something wrong?” Bart disappeared for a second. “I got you milkshakes.” He held out condensation-frosted glasses.
“Um. Thanks Bart,” Robin said, grabbing the strawberry one before Kon could get it.
Kon sighed again (theatrically). “Yeah. Thanks Bart.”
“What’s that?” Bart asked, darting toward Kon. He tilted his head, staring at the air above Kon’s shoulder with intense interest. “It’s shiiiiiny.”
“...What are you talking about?” Robin looked, but there was seriously nothing but air.
“How about some personal space, man?” Kon twisted away, glancing over his shoulder to see what Bart was talking about. Bart took a step forward, following Kon, and tripped over his feet, stumbling into Robin.
“Aw. The shiny’s gone.” Bart pouted, bouncing back to his feet.
“There was nothing there,” Robin insisted, even as he glared suspiciously at the back wall. He thought he might have seen a trail of smoke or steam rising up behind Kon, but maybe it was just a trick of the light.
“There totally was. It was, like...shiny. And stringy.” Bart paused and looked at Kon thoughtfully. “It...sparkled.”
“How old are those fruit loops?” Kon asked. He picked up the box and looked at the best-before date. “Oh man. Rob, can you get food poisoning from cereal?”
Bart swayed, growing pale and a little green, apparently just from the suggestion.
“I don’t feel so good,” he whispered, bringing a hand to his mouth. Bart staggered, then tripped again, falling to his knees.
“How do we not have a number for Max Mercury?” Robin asked...well, he asked the room in general. No one was paying attention to him.
Bart curled up tighter under the blankets they’d found scattered around the hotel. Robin could see the top of his head and a couple of fingers. The rest was just a formless mass of shaking fabric.
“Why is he still sick? He should be better,” Cassie’s only slightly panicked question barely covered up Bart’s pained moan.
“I don’t know,” Robin replied, dialing Oracle’s number. She’d respond if she wasn’t busy. The phone rang through, so yeah, she must be busy. Robin yanked his hand away from his hair, because he was starting to pull it out.
“Damn it.” Robin tried Nightwing’s number, because, hey, there had been a speedster on the Teen Titans.
“Hey Robin, what’s up?”
Thank freaking god. Robin calmed down, and presented the situation in a calm, cool, and collected manner. “Impulse ate bad fruit loops and he’s sick and he’s not getting better yet! Why isn’t he getting better yet, Nightwing?” Robin demanded, just like Batman taught him.
Kon looked up from trying to pour water down Bart’s throat. He was getting the sheets really wet, and Robin wasn’t sure if Bart actually drank any of it. “Does he know what’s wrong with Bart?”
Robin stuck a finger in his ear to block out Cassie and Kon. Suzie was just watching, but her smoke was spinning in tiny tornadoes, darting off into the corners and skimming nervously along the floor.
“Whoa, calm down. What kind of sick?”
“Fruit loops. Food poisoning. He ate fifteen year old fruit loops,” Robin explained into the phone, raising his voice to show that he was serious.
“...Seriously?” Nightwing sounded like he was about to start laughing, which was stupid because it wasn’t funny.
“Yes, seriously! He’s been sick for an hour! His arm broke and it healed in thirty minutes! What’s wrong with him?” Robin was keeping calm, because it was a fucking emergency and you keep fucking calm in an emergency.
“I don’t know. I’m going to call Wally and we’ll be right there, okay?” Nightwing was definitely trying to be reassuring. Unfortunately, it was not working, as Robin was not reassured.
“He’s hot, but he’s shivering,” Kon added helpfully, poking Bart through the blankets. Bart whined and wiggled away.
“Nightwing, he’s got a fever.” Robin was not panicking. He was so not panicking.
“Robin, I’ve got to go, so I can call Wally.”
“Okay, great, what are you waiting for? Go!” Robin snapped the phone shut and turned to Cassie. “Can you get, like, aspirin? And—and cough syrup?”
“He’s not coughing,” Kon pointed out.
“My stomach hurts.” The pile of blankets shook violently. A bucket of—okay, that was seriously gross. Robin closed his eyes and counted to ten.
“Pepto-Bismol?” Robins suggested weakly, “And you can empty the bucket.”
“Um. No,” Cassie said, backing away, her sneakers floating about an inch off the shag carpet. “As leader of Young Justice, I think it’s your responsibility to empty the puke bucket. I’ll get stuff from the drug store.” With that, Cassie flew out the window, ruffling the curtains with the speed of her departure.
Kon and Suzie nodded in agreement, as far away from the bucket as they could get while still being in the same room. Actually, Suzie was halfway inside the wall, so Robin’s not sure that counted, and they should really plaster some of those cracks, you know?
“Fine. You two get to find Bart another bucket,” Robin ordered, slowly approaching the bucket. He had his gloves on. How bad could it possibly get? he thought warily.
The smell was horrible. Bart must have been using the blankets as a ventilation mask or something, because holy crap, that was repulsive. Robin tilted his head back, held his breath, grabbed the bucket, and thought of England.
“Gross,” Kon said.
“Nasty,” Secret agreed.
“New bucket!” Robin ordered them, then paled. “Oh god, how many boxes did he eat?” The porch door stuck, and Robin shoved the bucket against it until it opened, then took a deep breath of fresh sweet air. It smelled a little bit like skunk, but it was vastly preferable to bucket smell.
“Hey, Robin? We’re here,” Nightwing called from the front door.
Robin dumped the bucket and grabbed the hose. “Bart’s on the couch. Fix him,” he shouted through the open door. He could hear Wally and Nightwing talking while he twisted the knob on the faucet, destroying about a dozen spider webs in the process.
Nightwing wandered out the door, yawning. “Wally’s gonna slow him down so he doesn’t get dehydrated. Where is everyone?” Nightwing, despite the fact that it was ten in the morning after a patrol night, looked fantastic.
Robin had technicolor puke in a bucket. Life was really unfair sometimes. “Kon and Secret are finding another bucket. Cassie went to get aspirin and stuff.”
“Oh.” Nightwing stretched out, rolling his shoulders in a way that would leave most people screaming in agony. “Bart’s gonna be okay. Wally said that food poisoning tends to hit them hard because of their enhanced metabolisms.”
“Yeah.” Robin realized that he may have panicked, ever so slightly, over Bart being sick.
“So, you doing okay?” Nightwing smirked. Stupid, pretty Dick.
“Yeah. I guess we’re okay.” Robin dodged away from Nightwing’s hand, accidentally on purpose spraying him with the hose. “It’s been kind of boring, but a lot like a vacation, too.” Robin turned the water off and tipped the bucket upside down, draining it.
“Is Superboy...wait, what’s that? It’s...sparkly.” Nightwing turned, staring at the porch window, absently pulling at his wet costume.
“You, too? You didn’t eat the fruit loops, did you?” Robin followed Nightwing’s gaze. “It’s a window. They’re usually pretty shiny...did you eat the fruit loops?” Robin asked. He was pretty sure that he threw the box away. It wasn’t on the counter, was it?
“What? No. It’s not the window. There’s this sparkly line thing. It’s moving.”
“Is it a spider web? Because there are a lot of those.”
Nightwing reached out toward the invisible sparkly thing and the window cracked into three pieces.
“Huh.” Nightwing stepped back. “I can’t see it anymore.”
“Someone must be developing a new power,” Robin said, opening the porch door and ushering Nightwing inside.
Nightwing raised an eyebrow. It made his mask look crooked, something Robin took a lot of petty pleasure in. “That happen a lot?”
“Secret figured out that she can pop popcorn by waving her hand through it, yesterday.”
“Handy.”
Robin saw something twinkle from the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there.
“It tasted dusty, but it was pretty cool to watch,” he answered absently, glancing at the flicker of light coming from the other direction. It was just sunlight shining off the bucket.
“I feel slow,” Bart murmured, his eyes wide and dazed. “S’weird.”
Wally sighed as he leaned back. “You won’t have super speed for the next couple of days.” He glanced at Nightwing before continuing. “I have to get back. Do you need a ride?”
“Want me to stay, Robin?” Nightwing asked, trying ruffle his hair.
Robin dodged and shook his head. “We should be good.” He set the clean bucket down beside Bart. “Can you let Batman know I won’t be able to patrol tonight?”
“Okay.” Nightwing shrugged, his costume rippling and twisting at the hip, something vaguely shiny shifting under the spandex. He scratched at the misbehaving fabric and it looked normal again. “If you need anything else, just call.” He nodded. “Wally—” They disappeared before he finished speaking, the front door swinging frantically in their wake.
Bart squirmed out of the blankets as soon as they left, shoving them into a crumpled pile at his feet. “It’s too warm,” he complained, “and I’m thirsty.” He looked at Robin pleadingly, lips mere millimetres away from a pout.
Robin nodded absently, watching a blurry line twist slowly across the room. It wavered like hot air over asphalt, shimmering in the dim light.
Kon and Suzie tumbled back into the room, Kon holding a bucket triumphantly, Suzie floating behind him. “We found one!”
“There were four of those in the foyer. What took you so long?” Robin asked, pouring Bart a glass of water.
“The Flash seemed like he was in a bad mood.” Suzie morphed her arm into Wally’s face. He snarled silently, gnashing his teeth.
“We didn’t want to interrupt,” Kon chimed in. “And is Nightwing really your brother?”
Robin mimed zipping his lips shut, and handed the water to Bart.
“What? Come on Rob, we aren’t going to be able to guess your identity if you have a brother,” Kon objected.
“Fine. No, we aren’t related. But being trained by Batman gives you an automatic, life long bond with all his other students,” Robin explained, sitting on the edge of the couch. Bart was now slow enough that he was certain of his ability to dodge.
“Really?” Secret asked, swirling around the couch to float next to Bart. She ran her fingers through his hair, quite literally.
“Totally. Also, I think Nightwing always wanted siblings. Like, scads of them.” Bart handed Robin the empty glass and crawled onto his lap, dragging a blanket with him. “Bart, I can’t put the glass away if you’re lying on me.”
“Don’t care,” Bart mumbled, “my head hurts.” He looked up at Robin hopefully.
“Cassie should be back soon,” Robin replied, hooking a toe around the bucket and dragging it a bit closer, just in case. “Kon, can you put this in the sink?” Robin handed Kon the glass.
“What? I’m not doing your dishes—”
“Puke. Bucket.” Robin used a bit too much emphasis on the word puke, but he thought it was probably justified. Bart shifted, and Robin wrapped his arm around his waist to keep him from falling. Bart sighed and wiggled closer, grabbing one of the blankets and scrunching it into a makeshift pillow.
“Fine.” Kon took the glass, heading toward the kitchen.
The screen door creaked loudly. “I got the stuff. Is Bart okay?” Cassie slammed the door, forcing a rusty shriek out of the old metal.
“Yeah. The Flash slowed him down so he wouldn’t get dehydrated and stuff,” Kon explained, returning from the kitchen.
“How long did you two eavesdrop?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow. He’d been talking to Nightwing when that had come up.
Suzie billowed in an invisible breeze. “A while?”
“Not long,” Kon said innocently. He was crap at innocent. It was so totally obvious that he’d never had to lie to his parents about his superhero career.
“Well, that’s good. Do you still need this stuff?” Cassie asked, holding up the Drive-Thru-Drugs bag.
Bart rolled over, managing to jab Robin with his elbows at least three times in the process. “Want!” He reached out toward the bag, then groaned and staggered to his feet. “One second,” Bart said, heading toward the bathroom.
“Is he okay?” Suzie asked Robin. Her aura fluttered nervously.
Robin got up to follow, then paused as the door to the hall creaked open before Bart touched it. “Uh. Probably?” he said uncertainly. “It’s kinda weird when he’s not fast.”
“Okay.” Cassie shrugged. “Want to change the couch to a bed? I brought movies.”
“What movies?” Kon asked, already moving the coffee table out of the way. He grabbed the blankets and dragged them off the couch, dumping them to the side and stripping out the wet ones.
“Fantasia 2000; Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; American Psycho; and Chocolat.” She dropped the bags beside the couch and helped Kon pull the bed out. The springs started squealing as soon as she lent her strength to the task, like they were begging for mercy or possibly death. They really needed a new sofa bed.
Robin started layering the dry blankets on top of the foam mattress. “Can we watch American Psycho first? My dad wouldn’t let me watch it.”
The bottom blanket smoothed itself out, starting in the far corner and working its way down.
“Did you do that?” Suzie asked, whispering in his ear, tiny bursts of cool air brushing across his neck. She watched in wide-eyed surprise as one of the pillows fluffed itself.
“No,” Robin denied, kind of freaked out. A little intrigued, but mostly freaked out.
“Are you sure we should even be watching it?” Kon asked Robin. “I mean, I saw it in theaters, and I really don’t think... Okay, long story short? We probably shouldn’t be watching it with Bart. I’m not sure he knows about the birds and the bees and, like, stuff, and explaining it with American Psycho as an example will probably screw him up for life.”
“Good point,” Robin agreed, remembering the movie trailers. “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon?” The blanket rippled, like something was tugging at its edges to straighten it out.
“Yeah, sure.” Kon headed toward the kitchen, a faint shimmer warping the air behind him.
Cassie turned on the TV and hooked up the new DVD player Robin had brought last week (it wasn’t like he was using his allowance for anything else). “Is American Psycho bad? I asked the clerk and he said it was a really good movie.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s rated NC-17.” Robin squinted at the kitchen door. It looked like the light was curving around something invisible. Reflecting off something?
Cassie shrugged. “Oh. Anyway, I asked my mom, and she’s okay with me staying overnight. Are the rest of you going to do the same?”
“I told my dad I’m sleeping over with some friends,” Robin said, “and Kon and Suzie don’t have anywhere else to be, right?”
Suzie nodded, floating toward the hallway. “Bart’s been gone for a while. Do you think he’s okay?” Her smoke curled and lifted, pushed up from below by something almost solid, but not quite.
“I’ll go check on him,” Robin volunteered. He started toward the door, then stopped and grabbed the Pepto-Bismol from the Walgreen’s bag. Bart might need it.
Next
