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The blue makeup on my face is starting to itch.
My roommate, Bee, helped me layer it on thick before we came out, to get the blue skin tone for my Klarion costume, and I look pretty great. She even managed deep blue contours for my cheekbones, and really fabulously spikey eyebrows without any plucking. Bee is the best.
But the whole thing itches now, and there are too many damn people around, and I can’t spot Bee in the crowd even though she’s carrying around a headless doll the same size as her.
Parties are loud.
And filled with people.
I really didn’t think this one through, even though I started out pretty well.
I’ve got my stuffed Teekl to pet, with an evil genius sneer on my face to keep in character, but actually her fur is just very soft under my fingertips and I can hold her in one hand while running my fingers across the fur of her paw as a stim that not everyone can see.
At least these people are wearing masks and face-paint and capes, so I can just compliment an outfit to fulfil the social contract of humans interacting with me.
Urgh. A polyester Greek God is approaching, but the tiny skirt and sash combo, with a shitty, plastic trident about the size of his arm, was obviously designed for pre-teen kids. It would look cute on the kids I babysit, but on him he looks ridiculous, when he was clearly aiming for hot, by wearing something that barely covers his bits.
“Hey, gorgeous, why so blue, you cute thing?”
He really should be wearing more clothes. I can see his nipples, and I definitely don’t want to.
“I’m Klarion,” I say, but it’s loud, and the guy just nods. He doesn’t look like he keeps up with the news, so he probably doesn’t recognise me.
He leans closer. “There’s no need to stay blue all night, when I can help get you all flushed.”
“I’m good,” I say, and where is Bee, or anyone I know?
“It’s a nice colour. It’d look better rubbed off on my sheets.”
“No. No it wouldn’t,” I say.
It’s such a line that I wonder if he prepared it in advance. Was he planning to find someone covered in face-paint and proposition about getting his sheets stained? Gross.
“I’m just—I got to go find a headless farmer with a giant Bee.”
I tried to turn away from him, but he grabbed my upper arm.
“Hey, I just want to talk to you, blue.”
I want to tug at my hair, but maybe that’s just because I know it’s gelled up into Klarion horns, so I know that I’m not allowed to touch it. I squeeze my plushy Teekl, and wrap her tail around my fingers.
“I need to—”
“There he is!” A voice says from behind me.
“You’re coming with us, Klarion.”
Oh, thank god, someone is rescuing me from this douchecanoe.
Someone who recognised my costume from behind, probably just from the hair-horns and my gothy oversized jacket. They’ll be someone who properly knows their villains, and thank you, they can get me out of this situation. We might listen to the same podcasts, and follow some of the same superhero news sites, so I can probably pretend to know them pretty easily.
The someone doing the rescue is in Nightwing costume. Damn. I guess we’re pretending to be in a hero/villain couple costume then.
“Alas, you have caught me, Nightwing! But you won’t stop me from bringing the chaos. To, um, all these people.”
“Don’t ruin Halloween, man, it’s the best holiday by far. I need free candy in my life.”
Oh, there’s a Flash as well.
Cool. Group costume is even better. Now we outnumber the asshole.
“Sorry, costume city Zeus, I’ve got to leave with my friends now. Bye!”
“Thanks for the rescue,” I say, as soon as we were a few metres from the wannabe god.
“Let’s get out of here,” Nightwing-guy says to Flash-guy.
Their costumes are amazing. They fit each of the guys amazingly well. None of that looking-slightly awkward thing which usually happens with skin-tight suits on folks who don’t work out, or are too long in the torso or short in the arms because they’re mass produced.
Klarion was easy, in comparison to something like that. I just went for trash goth Witch Boy with spiked hair and blue make up.
They’re both taller than me, and can hide me from the rest of the room pretty easily. I can just about see the douchebag behind Flash, but he’s not trying to follow. Oh, thank god.
“I think I need some air,” I say.
“Yeap, let’s take this outside, Flash.”
“Good plan,” Flash-guy agrees.
Then Nightwing-guy picks me up, and throws me over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Damn. He’s strong.
I laugh, and let Nightwing-guy carry me away.
We weave through the partiers, and it’s fun to see them from this angle. Just flashes of colours and costumes and hairdos.
Oh my goodness, I’m being carried away by a guy dressed as Nightwing. I have had so many maladaptive daydreams about this.
Nightwing-guy’s costume feels very expensive under my cheek. Leather, and some smooth armour plating that’s heavy and weighty, like it might actually deflect blows, not plastic or thin metal which would crumble when hit.
Wow.
These guys must spend so much on their cosplay outfits. Time as well. This has got to be personally crafted, as it’s definitely not store-bought. Awesome. I should chat to them. I bet they have lots of great ideas about the capes and mask folk.
“Hey, guys?” I say.
Nightwing-guy picks up speed, and Flash-guy is holding open the backdoor and we’re out in an alley filled with dumpsters and a few couples getting nasty in public.
I lift a hand and wave at the bouncer who’s manning the backdoor, then let my head hang back down.
Damn. This guy has an excellent butt. Almost as good as the real Nightwing.
Oh.
I think I’m looking at Nightwing’s butt. His actual butt.
Unless someone is selling Nightwing costumes with built in butt padding that perfectly moulds to the user…
I’m hanging over Nightwing’s shoulder, looking at his butt.
Nightwing is actually carrying me, slung over his shoulder.
Wow.
I think I might be dead.
Dreaming.
Heaven.
“Um—” I say.
Surely Nightwing has no actual reason to carry me out of an overwhelming Halloween party. He’s got better things to do. I should let him go do them.
I let my head fall back down, my cheek bouncing against his back as he’s moving. My ribs hurt from where they’re pressing against his shoulder.
Nightwing’s butt is right there.
Wow.
I clutch my stuffed Teekl in my left hand, and do not dare touch any of Nightwing’s… everything.
Except I’m in a fireman carry, and Nightwing is climbing up the side of the fucking building, and how can he do that? I know I’m not tall, and I’m not big, but I am a full grown adult human and he’s carrying me like I weigh nothing.
Damnit. I need to hold on.
The dirty asphalt of the alley is below me, covered in discarded McDonalds wrappers and beer bottle lids. The ground is far below me now, and it’s dropping away rapidly, and holy hell, is he actually flying instead of climbing?
I grab hold of…something squishy. A squishy bit of Nightwing side. Oh my God, I’m going to die. I’m going to die, holding Nightwing’s love handles. How does a man this bendy and fit manage to have a love-handle for me to hold onto?
Then he’s swinging me forward over his shoulder, and I’m on my back, and I’m looking up at where stars would be if we weren’t in Gotham were stars are glow-in-the-dark stickies kids put on their ceilings.
“Bro?” Nightwing says, looking down at me.
“Yeah, Dude?” says Flash.
“I don’t think we got the right one,” says Nightwing.
Flash-guy is looming over me too. And though I can’t see his butt from this angle, it probably matches real Flash as well. I got kidnapped by Nightwing, and Flash, and I don’t think I’m dreaming right now because usually I don’t feel nauseated, and quite this overwhelmed with potential embarrassment in my dreams.
“He’s blue,” says Flash. “He’s got the cat. He’s in the area O flagged for us. He’s Klarion.”
“I just don’t think Klarion is going to be hanging out at a Halloween party.”
“Disguised as himself is definitely a thing the Witch Boy would do. It’s perfect, Wing.”
“Um—” I offer up my plush Teekl to Flash.
“And maybe he magicked the cat into a plushie to mess with us, because I swear I saw it moving when we were in the party, Rob.”
Nightwing looks at Flash, and Flash ducks his head with an apologetic shrug.
“Okay, maybe we got the wrong guy.”
“Klarion would definitely magic Teekl into a plushie to fuck with the League heroes, uh, you guys.”
Both of them look at the plush cat in my hands.
“But, um, I didn’t. Because I can’t. Nope. I’m just a guy in a costume. Apparently a surprisingly good costume, which is…uh, good to know?”
“Any chance you’ll believe we’re just regular guys in costumes too?“
“I just fireman carried him up the side of a building, KF.”
“Yeah. Um. I was watching his butt the whole way up. Definitely Nightwing’s butt. I don’t think I can be convinced you’re just some hero-stans with big budget costumes.”
“It’s an excellent ass, isn’t it?” Flash says, grinning at me. “Highly recognisable.”
“Dude, no one can actually recognise people from their butts.”
“The internet made your butt into a meme—uh—” what should I call a hero when I see them face to face? I am not prepared for this. Why didn’t my daydreams ever get me far enough to be suave when actually faced with Nightwing?—“Mr Nightwing, sir—”
Damn. I shouldn’t have said that.
Flash laughs, and Nightwing looks embarrassed and awkward, and is he more awkward with me calling him sir than recognising his butt? That’s weird. Did I embarrass Nightwing?
Why did I do that?
Why did I say that?
I hope this is a dream.
“RR would have told me if my butt was a meme.”
“RR would have started it.”
“—uh, the internet thinks that maybe Spoiler started it? The original pic, anyway. We think it’s probably from her body-cam footage.”
“We?” says Nightwing
“Hell,” says Flash, looming over me again, snatching the stuffed cat from my hands, “maybe he is Klarion. He talks in ‘we’ with the cat, sometimes.”
“The internet ‘we’? The folks who follow the Bats ‘we’? Not me and my familiar ‘we’, because I don’t have a familiar, and this is literally actually a stuffed cat and why is it so hard to prove a negative?”
Then there is a flash. Sharp and startling.
A crack half a moment later.
Bright blue light coming from below us, shining up into the low-hanging clouds like the Batsymbol.
Flash moves from above me, I don’t see him go, and the stuffed cat drops back on my chest.
Nightwing follows Flash, then he’s jumping off the fucking roof like an insane person.
“Well, Teekl,” I say, petting the stuffed cat’s ears, “I guess we’re not as interesting as whatever that just was.”
Logic says to stay right the hell where the superheroes put me.
Logic is sensible.
Logic should be listened to.
But my hindbrain is a little bit too consumed with the idea that I’ll get to see Nightwing and Flash in action if I can just convince myself to get to the edge of the roof. To look over, and see what’s going on below.
I look down.
What is going on is… Klarion.
Blue face, amazing hair horns, and an outfit much more sleek than the goth grunge I’d managed. Eyes that I can see from up here because they are….glowing, or something. Something unearthly about it. Fierce. Looking through everyone around him, like he can see their innards and their lives in other dimensions all at once.
It is actually Klarion the Witch Boy himself.
How did Nightwing and Flash mistake me for him?
Holy hell, I’m dressed as a villain who is actually floating—floating—a few stories below me.
Klarion is going to murder me. Or adopt me. Or kidnap me. Or turn me into a mouse for Teekl to chase.
He’s created some sort of…portal, maybe, or a trap. A living blue glow that stretches from one side of the street to the other. It snakes across the road in bolts like lightning, with cracks splitting from each other and searching out new targets.
He’s catching people in it.
Two friends are running away, only one in sensible shoes. The one in sneakers is dressed as a Dalmatian, pulling along a Cruella de Vil in 4 inch heels by the hand. And when they get caught in the wave of blue…
The Dalmatian drops to four paws. She’s got a tail, fur, a panicked look in her eyes as she takes in all the smells and noise and chaos around it. And Cruella changes too. Instead of running, she’s paused, looking down on the Dalmatian with avarice in her eyes.
The Dalmatian yelps, and sprints across the road.
Woah.
Nightwing is focused on getting close to Klarion, and not having much luck. He can diffuse the blue glow with crackles of electricity from his escrima sticks, and he’s breaking up the magic as it tries to spread.
Flash is going his best to catch and run people out of the way, but the crackling wave is a moving, fluid thing that’s dancing and writhing all over the street, plucking people into it’s glow.
Oh, thank god, he’s caught Bee in her giant Bumblebee costume we worked on, and then all I see is the space where they were before. Bee’s safe.
But Flash can’t get everyone, not as fast as the tendrils can spread into the surrounding crowds as people try to run out of the crush, out of the party, and through the killing box Klarion has created.
There’s a couple’s costume of Morticia and Gomez Addams who get hit together, and the air about them seems to darken, and their skin takes on a deathly glow.
A Fluffy from Harry Potter, with two extra dog heads attached to her shoulders. She’s on all fours and her tail is swishing back and forth, and all three heads are snapping and trying to charge the Addams.
Morticia turns and freezes Fluffy with a look, and a single pointed finger.
What the hell?
Does she have magic, now?
If I climb down from my safe and far up rooftop, and get caught by the trap, then I’ll be Klarion too. I could magic all these people back to the way they should be, and I can probably fight Klarion, and I’ll be able to save Nightwing and then he’ll look at me the same way he looked at Flash before and—
And I would die.
What am I even thinking?
A man in a life-sized Pickle Rick costume, running from the waves of blue gets caught by the wave of magic, and then he’s a pickle. Still Pickle Rick, but now pickle-sized, and one of the unimaginative folks who put on cat ears and normal clothes shy away from him, because they’re a cat now, and everyone knows cats hate cucumbers.
Wow.
Okay.
I’m not going down there at all.
Flash zooms folks out of the way, and that’s good, but then there’s two people wearing one of those ridiculous two-person horse outfits, and now they’re one horse, and two people and, oh gosh, that’s awful.
Nightwing is a little closer to Klarion now. Klarion laughs at him. The blue lightning keep hitting Nightwing, but I guess he already is the costume he’s wearing, so it’s not like being magicked into being more Nightwing than he was already is going to be a problem.
Klarion is monologuing, but I can’t hear him over the snapping sounds of people being magicked into other beings, and the screams of the people trying to flee.
A zombie’s arm dislocates with rot, and falls to the floor.
Ew.
I flinch, and push myself a little further from the ledge in shock.
I clutch my toy Teekl in one hand, pressed to my chest. Hugging the stuffing out of a toy cat because I am just so glad I got kidnapped by Nightwing and Flash so I’m not down there.
Then there’s a cat in my face.
A real one.
No. An unreal one.
The cat is beautiful. Long and sleek with rusty orange fur, with an excellent tail held poised above its back, and tufted ears, almost like a lynx. Glowing yellow eyes, with a far too intelligent look in them.
Teekl.
It is close enough to swipe me with its claws.
Long whiskers tickle the side of my face as it sniffs at me.
I swallow hard, and look up into its yellow eyes.
Teekl licks its lips, a long and contented rumble coming from its chest.
Hello, precious, it says in my head.
“Um. Er. Hi, kitty. Er, greetings, most powerful and beautiful Teekl.”
You admire my Witch Boy?
“Yes. Of course I do. He’s amazing.”
You like watching him succeed against the humans in their little dress ups?
“He’s incredible,” I say, with complete honesty and not a small amount of shocky fear. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Come with me. We could use a new pet.
“Oh—uh—no, thank you, Teekl. I’m, uh, happy in this dimension for now. It’s got my friend Bee in it. I can’t leave her.”
Teekl brushes up against me, its fur a little warmer than I’d expect from a normal human cat.
As you will, little human witch boy.
Then it pounces on me.
Suddenly it’s a big cat, with paws the size of my head landing on my chest and pushing me back, and a huge face snarling at me.
I land flat on the rooftop, looking up at the clouds.
Again.
The blue lightning crackles of Klarion’s magic are lighting up the clouds with slices of neon whenever they hit a new person. It’s kind of pretty.
Oh, I’m definitely in shock now. Yeap. My fingers aren’t connected to anything, and Teekl is sitting on my chest like a weight who is also a big cat who is also a kitten who is also a trans-dimensional magic being, and I’m thinking about the pretty clouds.
I am going to die.
They are very pretty clouds. Low and dramatic, and just the bottom of them illuminated by the lightning storm on the ground. Klarion is setting off the Witch Boy symbol. Cool.
I blink.
Teekl is the size of a normal, large house cat. And there’s another one as well. A matching pair.
Two Teekl cats blink back at me.
Where did the other Teekl come from?
I try to find my stuffed cat, I need something to hold onto, but she’s gone.
Oh.
I slow blink at first one, then the other. Friendliness. Not dominance. I know cats. I can do this. Probably.
“Hi,” I say to the second Teekl, who has a well worn patch of fur on her left foreleg where I like to rub my fingers as a stim to soothe myself.
She walks across me, right up to my face, her paws such lovely points of pressure.
Then she boops me on the nose with her left paw.
Oh. Wow.
Teekl purrs in satisfaction. It curls around the new Teekl, the one with the worn patch, and sits on my chest.
The feel of the two cats purring rumbles through my chest, through my belly. The vibration is so strong it’s like it gets into my head as well, and rattles loose all my self preservation instincts.
I reach out one hand, waiting for the Teekl with a worn paw to nudge her head into my hand.
Running my fingers down behind her ears makes her slumps onto my chest. Her body rises and falls with my breath.
Wow. She’s so warm. So real.
Then the real Teekl twitches to attention, its ears twitching. Its whole body goes still.
The little humans with their magic spells have arrived, Teekl says, its voice in my head rolling around like pebbles jostled in a flooding stream.
Teekl leaps from me, landing on the lip of the roof, and looks down on the scene below.
The new Teekl slinks off my belly, with one last nudge of her head into my hand, following Teekl to the roof edge.
Thank you for the pet, Teekl says.
Then two Teekls are jumping from the rooftop, tails swishing majestically and ear tufts raised.
Teekl stole my stuffed cat.
WB + NW + F + NW + WB
It’s a bit of a blur after that.
I watch, my knuckles white from clutching the edge of the roof, as the two Teekls slink their magical way down, jumping from lightning bolt to lightning bolt until they can both land on Klarion’s shoulders.
Klarion looks up, pets the Teekl on his shoulder, and then grins wide as he opens his arms for the new Teekl with a worn paw to leap into his arms.
Zatanna and Zatara have arrived in their dramatic tail-suits, and they’re making their way through to the gap that Nightwing is holding open with his escrima sticks held out like lightning rods.
Klarion sends bubbly blobs of slow-moving something at the two magic users, something that floats and doesn’t move as quickly as it should. It’s a tease, but it acts unpredictably, and their caution is justified. He’s laughing at them both.
Then the Witch Boy looks up at me, and winks.
He disappears with a pop of displaced air rushing into the space he just occupied.
Suddenly, I’m trying to see something, anything, on a street barely illuminated without all the blue lightning sparking from one person to another, to the buildings, to the power poles, to the parked cars.
“Fuck!” someone says, loud enough in the sudden silence to carry all the way up here.
One of the Zs sends up a globe of white-gold light to hover a few metres above the scene.
The people who had been caught by Klarion’s lightning beams are still creatures and creepers and ketchup bottles. Someone is really going to regret having such a lazy costume when they’re back to being human.
If they get back to being human.
Oh my god. Teekl the plush cat stayed a cat. Maybe all these people will be horses-asses, and Fluffy, and Pickle Ricks forever.
I hope no one stays Pickle Rick, but Morticia Addams would probably be okay. And is that a Sam Winchester fighting a demon-headed monster? Awesomely badass.
Zatanna starts corralling all the transformed humans onto one side of the street, with magical barriers to keep the ones with animal or other brains from running. Or rolling, because they’re ketchup.
Zatara confers with Nightwing and the Flash for a moment, before turning to help with the magical casualties while Nightwing and Flash move to manage the ones still human.
It’s a little hard to tell with some of them if they’ve been transformed, or just have amazing costumes. Maybe Sam Winchester is just an awesome human who likes flannel.
I should probably go back down there.
Everyone is going to be fine.
Klarion is gone.
Oh, god, if I go down everyone is going to think I’m Klarion even though my costume isn’t that good, and I don’t have my stuffed Teekl anymore, but they’ll freak out and someone will punch me in the face. With magic. Or their fists. Or Nightwing’s escrima sticks.
I’m trapped up here.
I look over the edge.
There’s an external fire-escape ladder, but it doesn’t start until the next level down, and there’s no way I’ll be able to reach it.
I’m too short to be stuck on a rooftop.
I don’t know my way around rooftops as well as Nightwing does. Or have as many options on how to get down.
Roof access door. There’s probably one of those.
I push back to sit on my knees and take a look around the roof for the first time since Nightwing dropped me on it. There’s some weird gravel under my hands, and solar panels set up not far from me. Who bothers with solar panels in Gotham? Weird.
There’s the boxy bit which is the top of the elevator, and behind that, what must be the access door. Okay. That’s how I get down.
I can do that.
Hell. Can I even stand up yet?
Klarion the actual Witch Boy just terrorised everyone, and Teekl stole my plush cat, and I’m on a roof, and I look like the enemy.
Anxiety is the right response, isn’t it?
Hell.
Breathe out.
Let my lungs work to get air back in.
Breathe out.
Okay.
I get to the door and I rattle the handle and it doesn’t even turn.
Oh.
It’s locked.
I’m stuck up here.
Breathe out.
Bee will notice I’m missing. She’ll notice I’m missing, and she’ll be looking for me, but she’ll say she’s looking for Klarion and they won’t listen, and maybe she’ll think I got turned into Klarion, and the heroes took me out because I’m the bad guy, and no one will think to look for me up here.
I curl up against the locked door, and close my eyes.
I miss my plushy Teekl already.
WB + NW + F + NW + WB
Sometime later I feel something break the flow of the wind over my face. I don’t know when, but the noises from below have tapered off into the organised sounds of things being Sorted, instead of things being Destructed. Or maybe sound turned off for a while. It does that sometimes.
I open my eyes.
Nightwing is crouched in front of me. Just perching on his toes like he doesn’t weigh anything. Maybe he’s a bird-related meta?
“Nightwing? You came back.”
“Yeah, I came back. Sorry for leaving you up here so long. I was—busy.”
“Busy,” I repeat.
“Your idol gave us a bit of a show.”
“Real Klarion was amazing. Like, not cool, I definitely don’t think he was cool, I don’t think being turned into ketchup is good, but he was awesome in the old school meaning of creating awe, and he definitely reenacted the best episode of Buffy ever.”
“Flash,” Nightwing murmurs into his comm, “we forgot about the Klarion decoy.”
“I’m not a decoy! I swear. I just like him a little bit, when he does stuff that’s more chaos than evil, and I wanted to paint myself blue, and I didn’t have to buy anything else for my costume and he stole my cat.”
Nightwing holds out his hand, and pulls me to my feet. It doesn’t take him any effort at all. Wow.
“He stole your cat?”
I nod. “Klarion. The real one. He stole my cat. Or his cat stole my cat.”
“Klarion’s rude like that.”
“Teekl came and turned my stuffed Teekl into a real cat, and she was lovely, and then Klarion took both of them with him, and I like that cat. I cuddle her when I can’t think, and the anxiety is bad, and I got stuck on the roof and I was worried that someone would think I was the real Klarion and—”
My motormouth runs away from me, disappearing into the night air, and I don’t have any words left, or any breath left, and I just want to curl back up against the roof access door and not move until the world goes away again.
I’m still standing up.
Weird.
I thought I’d have fallen over by now.
Oh.
Nightwing is holding me. My back against his chest. He’s telling me to breathe.
“In. One, two, three, four. Out. One, two, three, four.”
Jolty breaths out. In is easier.
His chest is moving against my back as he breathes. It’s like being hugged by Bee. Like the way she sometimes she holds me through an anxiety attack. Save. Surrounded. Not able to move away from the rhythm of someone else breathing normally.
“In. One, two, three, four. Out. One, two, three, four.”
“Okay, human Witch Boy, I think you’re probably in shock. This is just your body having a freak out because you were in danger. But it’s okay now, and you’ll feel better soon, even if it feels like a whole lot of too much right now.”
“You’re very shocking, Rob,” Flash says. “That’s why you electrify your escrima sticks.”
Oh. Flash is here.
He’s very red.
Nice. I like red.
“I like red. Blue’s prettier,” I say.
“You’re a lovely shade of blue, Klarion-a-like.”
“I’m not nearly as shocking as your face, KF.” Nightwing says. “That’s why he wears that cowl. We can’t let folks see it in public, they’d run screaming.”
Then Nightwing is talking in my ear. A soft and bright and blue and soothing voice, just a rumble like the purr of the cats through my back instead of my front. Teekl was so pretty. And soft. Why did Teekl have to go away?
I breathe.
It’s getting easier.
I want my stuffed cat.
Nightwing is still talking, and I want to be able to listen to him, but I can’t quite hear the words right now.
His voice is a soothing shade of blue. Cool and bright and restful. Like looking at a still lake when the sun’s up high.
He’s warm at my back.
Really warm. And solid. Strong and steady.
His voice still sounds blue. Why does he sound blue?
We’re sitting on the roof now. I don’t know when that happened.
I’m sitting on a gravelly rooftop with Nightwing and Flash.
Nightwing at my back. His chest against me. I can feel it rising and falling and my breathing has slowed to meet it.
I slide my thumb along a seam on the arm of Nightwing’s suit. It’s flush, so it doesn’t catch on things when he’s fighting I guess, but there’s just enough texture for my thumb to find it, and send it to my brain, and it’s not fluffy like my Teekl cat is. Was. Is a real cat now.
I wonder if her fur is going to grow back out on the bits I rubbed raw.
Flash is in front of me. Checking my eyes with a light and it’s too bright and I want to close my eyes but he’s holding my chin steady.
I think I whine.
“He’s just checking you for any bonus head trauma to go with the magical whizzbangs that have gone off.”
I’m such a wimp. I want him to stop looking at me, and to keep looking for a lot longer so I can look back.
“Shock’s a bitch,” Flash says. “Getting all up in your face just because weird shit’s happened and now the adrenaline’s worn off. Took me ages to stop getting a little shocky when I started out as Kid Flash, yeah, because I was so excited, and doing all these amazing things, but my body wasn’t quite used to the superspeed stuff yet, so sometimes my body crashed like crazy and I just had to ride the damn thing out on my auntie’s lap.”
Flash sits beside me, beside Nightwing, his leg pressed up against mine. He runs hot. I can feel his warmth through his costume. I wonder if all supers run hot. Aside from the obvious running hot that is Nightwing’s butt, which I hope I’m not talking out loud.
Am I talking out loud, I wonder.
“Am I talking out loud?” I ask.
“That’s the first thing you’ve said in a while, Klarion-a-like. Embarrassing internal monologues have stayed internal so far.”
“You got anything sugary in your pouch for him, KF?”
“Nothing rated for non-meta human consumption. Only superdense stuff for me.”
“Like lembas bread? You’ve got lembas bread for real?” I ask.
“I wish I had lembas bread. This stuff tastes like crap. But I can fit it in my suit.”
“Hey, human Witchy Boy.” Nightwing says. I shiver because his voice is so close to my ear. “You’re back?”
I try to nod, but it probably isn’t very convincing.
Flash nods back.
“Good try, but Wing here will keep pretending to be a blankie for the next while till you’re safe to get down from this nice rooftop we accidentally planted you on as a lookout for the fancy light show.”
“Capes,” I say.
“Oh, yeah, capes are good for blankets, but we’re too cool to wear them. I bet there’s some blackmail pictures of Batman wrapping the Robins up in his cloak when they’re little. I might have some on my comm.”
“Don’t you dare! KF!”
“You’ve got baby pictures of Nightwing in Batman’s cloak?”
“Oh yeah. Loads. I sucked up to—someone—for months to get my hands on them.”
I’m smiling, I think, even though my face feels a little disconnected from my body, which is not connected to my brain much at all.
My brain is edging sideways into feeling safe. Maybe. Just from the corner of my annoying brain being annoying, there’s a pocket that feels that it might be able to be safe sometime in the next hour.
But my body feels safe. Nightwing is holding me. Flash is right here next to me. He can run us far away if anything comes back.
I hate when my brain doesn’t match my body.
“You’re blue,” I say to Nightwing’s arm, tracing the stripes.
“I told you people liked your sexy fingerstripes, Rob. Gets their minds all whirling about what you can do with them.”
“Not your fingers. Your voice is blue. Not just your fingers. I like your fingers when they’re blue, too.“
“Do you usually have synesthesia? Or do we need to get the magicians up here to check you out?”
“Sometimes I do. When I’m stressed. The wires in my brain get a bit more crossed. Your voice is a pretty shade of blue. It’s lighter when you’re talking to Flash.“
“That’s ‘cause he loves me best, and I’m the light of his damn life.”
“Shut up, KF. You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”
“I’m much funnier than I think I am, actually,” he says deadpan.
Nightwing laughs, and his laugh is like the blanket of his arms wrapped around me, vibrating with warm potential.
“Oh, that was very bright. He does love you best.”
Flash smiles at me.
“Maybe that’s true,” Flash says.
“Only on alternate Tuesdays when I don’t have anyone better to hang out with.”
“You’re orange,” I tell Flash. It’s so pretty. Just vibrating along at a frequency that meshes with Nightwing’s blue. “Goldie-orange with a swirly tornado thing in the corner of my eye.”
Colour harmonies are great. Colour theory in their voices. I wonder if they sing together.
“Do you sing?”
“Not in public. Rob’s a shower singer. Ridiculously cheerful in the shower.”
“We get covered in some gross things. And sweat. Getting it off is great.”
“That’s not the only thing we get covered in.”
Oh.
Flash’s hand rests on Nightwing’s thigh. Steady and casual and probably not platonic at all.
“Oh,” I say.
The tiny pocket of the internet who agreed with me that Nightwing and Flash are dating—we were right.
Am I blushing? Am I practically sitting in Nightwing’s lap and thinking of him and his…boyfriend? In the shower. Who is Flash.
Wow.
I guess I”m back in nice dream territory.
I relax back onto Nightwing, because he’s there, and he’s warm, and I haven’t been snuggled in a while and this is nice.
“This is nice.”
“Awesome, Klarion-a-like. We should get you down to the EMTs soon, yeah. Were you here with friends?”
“My sis. Bee. My roomie. She’s a bee. My Bee.”
“EMTs, then, KF.”
I frown up at Nightwing, and Flash as well.
“I want to go to Bee. She’ll be worried.”
“You sure about that concussion check, KF?”
“I don’t think she’s a buzzy tiny bee. She’s dressed like a bee, and her name is Bee. She’s a bee. She’s got a farmer with her.”
“A giant bee carrying a headless stuffed scarecrow?”
“You rescued her. I saw you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s go find the giant bee and the life-sized headless scarecrow. What is that even about? Is she the personification of hive collapse, and bees overthrowing farmers and taking back the land?”
“Colony collapse is terrifying. I like almond crunch cereal bars too much.”
“Can I get a hug from you too, Flash?”
Flash looks a little startled, like he’s questioning why anyone would want cuddles from him when they already have Nightwing cuddles.
“Come on, Flash. You give great hugs.”
“Klarion-lite can judge which of us gives better hugs.”
Then Flash is hugging me, half pulling me out of Nightwing’s lap to do it. He is just as warm and just as safe as Nightwing, and I like hugs. I could stay here for ages.
“Hugs are nice,” I say into his chest armour.
“Are mine better than Wing’s?”
“Uh,” I say, “I don’t think so.”
Flash pulls away a little bit so he can pretend to look offended with an exaggerated dropped jaw. “I’ll have to try harder.”
Then it’s a squish. Fast and strong and welcome. Warm and safe and I feel like I’m breathing okay now, and a little bit like maybe the adrenaline crash will let me sleep okay tonight.
Flash lets go of me, and Nightwing wraps his arms back around me.
“I’m glad you guys have each other. It might be lonely being a hero otherwise.”
“We’ve known each other forever. Rob’s not getting rid of me anytime soon.”
Flash steps back, looking down at me.
“Let’s get you back to the Bee Tyrant.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Of course,” Flash says.
Flash disappears and I didn’t even see him go.
“Hurry up, slowpokes.” He calls from the corner of the roof.
Nightwing rolls his eyes.
“See what I have to put up with?“
I nod, smiling, as I drag myself upright.
My limbs are shakey with spent adrenaline and anxiety.
“Hold on,” Nightwing says.
Then he hooks one hand under my back, the other under my knees in a princess carry.
“I get a princess carry down?”
“Well, now I know you’re not Klarion, it seems rude to bruise your ribs.”
He holds me against him, and then he takes a damn leap off the roof, without even having any lines attached, and how does he do this all the time.
Then we’re catching on something, something slowing our fall, and Nightwing lands safe, and I’m still safe, but I don’t think I’ll be able to open my eyes any time soon.