Gah. Faith. Willow. Yummy.

Sigh. I wanna have sex with Willow in a public toilet. Silly fictional characters, with their durned non-existance.

Ok, so I still drabble during my fic sabbatical...thursday 100 was "damp" this week...it was also *late* but I digress.
Yes, I'm still bitter that out of a relatively huge fandom, only 2 people liked my Munch-Spector.(one of whom our own debg)..Philistines.(And I could've sent damp to icky places, but I didn't, even though it's SVU fic. Which I write for Munch anyway.)

The girl’s face is damp with tears. She’s sixteen, and there are holes in her story already. Munch sighs. He knew there were reasons he hated Sundays. This isn’t rape. Fifty bucks says Lolita junior has an older boyfriend her family hates.(He can’t throw any stones...he *was* that, for Gwennie. And they were...one hundred percent right.) All the signs are there. Teenaged girl, comes in reeking of Drakkar, Sunday morning, parents out of town, nothing in her purse but last night’s underwear. He is glad he never had children. “Look, kid.” Munch says, but then she shows blue eyes, and he is helpless for thirty seconds. “Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining.”

aaaaaand, erika just broke me.

I don't know whether to be excited or apologize, Deb. But of course, that would never happen on SVU because, even though it's kind of standard around precincts everywhere, they couldn't hammer home "Believe the Victim' with it. And Munch is...like mute on that show anymore. And whenever possible, a freaky subplot, possibly incest must be included. And Stabler has to bring up the fam, Benson her tragic past, and mostly there has to be a verdict. Whew! Holy speedy justice, Batman!

That is a fantastic drabble, erika. Love the Munch voice, it is perfect.

Thank you. But of course, the Munchkin, c'est moi.

Erika, once again, you've got the Munch-ster down. With a side order of "ow."

Okay, I'm'a try this again. It's my first-ever non-drabbly, finished, batverse fic. But all you really need to know, canon-wise, is: Dick used to be Robin. Tim is Robin now. And they once spent an entire issue blindfolded and talking about sex. And just where do you think my mind is going to go with that?

Let Me Be Your Side Track

"You have some kind of thing about redheads, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know, you do the worst Bruce impersonation ever. And, seriously — Kory, Barbara..."

"Just try to concentrate on the train, Tim."

"... Wally, Roy..."

"There's a curve coming up, feel it?"

"Yeah, I feel it." Tim braces himself to stay standing as the train sweeps around to the left, and then he's thrown against Dick as it veers right. Dick catches him before he loses his balance.

"... It was an S-curve."

"Gee, thanks, Batman." Tim's mind is already racing ahead to just how much fun he can have torturing Dick this way, but his next quip stops short in his throat when he realizes that Dick's hands are still there, one just above each hipbone, not so much holding him in place as making it perfectly clear that he's not going anywhere else until Dick decides he will. He finds himself thinking — and he doesn't even want to know where this thought's coming from — that those hands are probably another area where Dick has more in common with Batman than he'll ever admit.

"You've got to look out for the switchbacks." And Dick's voice is a shade hoarser than usual as he lets Tim go.

It takes a moment for Tim get his balance back; he has to force Dick's voice out of his head (swimming just a little) and make himself focus on his legs (weak) before he can get his weight centered and start to ride the train like a surfboard again. Once he's done that, he can let his mind play, and after the third involuntary grin, he realizes it's a good thing they're both wearing blindfolds. Still, he isn't absolutely sure that Dick can't feel the heat rising off his full-body flush.

They throw themselves onto their bellies as the train slips into a tunnel. The air in here is cool and damp, and the sound of the train warps and echoes around the tunnel walls until Tim loses the sense of orientation he'd tenuously put together outside. He's just thinking it's a good thing he's lying down when he feels Dick's weight shift and realizes that they're a hell of a lot closer to each other than they were when they hit the deck. Close enough that he hardly has to reach out at all before he's resting a hand on Dick's side. He pulls his hand back, as if he didn't mean for it to be there, but Dick hasn't moved away at all. Tim's going to have to think some more about that later.

***

Dick hears a tunnel coming up, and he drops to the train roof, relieved to hear Tim land a few feet over. He slides alongside him, and he knows when he hears Tim turn toward him in the dark that Tim felt the same jolt he did back at the curve. Inches from his ear, he can hear Tim catch his breath even over the howling in the tunnel, and when Tim reaches out to touch him, Dick is waiting. Tim flinches away. Dick doesn't.

The hardest thing in the world is waiting for the split second it'll take Tim to absorb what just happened, but when it does, Dick is pretty sure there won't be any hesitation.

Instead, Tim says, "You never answered my question," and it occurs to Dick that he could just knock him off the top of the train.

"I don't think you ever got around to asking one."

"Sure I did. The one about whether you have a thing for —"

"— Youthful sidekicks. Right." And he hears Tim breathe in sharply.

"Not what I —"

"Sure it's what you meant. Unless you were looking for haircolor advice."

Tim laughs — actually giggles— and Dick reaches across the gap between them. Slides a gauntleted hand under the waist of Tim's shirt and wishes to god they were out of costume so he could feel with a bare hand the warm flesh cooling as it came into contact with the underground air. He pulls Tim towards him. They're both breathing hard as they kiss, biting and sucking at tongues and lips, and Dick isn't sure anymore whether the vibrations he feels are coming from the train.

"I do, you know." They're close enough to talk softly in spite of the noise.

"Like guys in tights?"

"No, redheads. You're lucky I'm wearing a blindfold."

Dick reaches for Tim again, one hand pulling their bodies together as the other grabs at a handful of Tim's hair. This kiss is slower, but no less urgent, and as Dick traces the tip of his tongue across the bony ridge of Tim's palate, he's rewarded with a moan that he can feel.

***

The only thing in the world right now is the movement of the train and their hands and their bodies pressing together. They're tearing at each other's clothes, desperately seeking any way they can find through well-built armor.

Tim doesn't think Kevlar was ever meant to be a kink, but then when Dick's glove traces the lines of his body and a finger-seam catches at his nipple, he reconsiders the possibilities. A few moments later the rough fabric runs up the underside of his cock, and he thinks he could be a costume freak from here on out. Until he changes his mind.

Tim can't figure out when Dick's hands were off him for long enough to remove a glove, but this time, it's bare flesh reaching for him, and the touch of warm skin with a cool film of sweat explodes in his head like fireworks. So when Dick grasps his cock — no, both their cocks together, and, yeah, he's definitely done this before — there's no way this is going to last very long. The orgasm hits him like a wave; he can feel an answering shudder go through Dick's whole body a moment later, and then they're still again.

The sun is a warm shock when the train leaves the north end of tunnel. There's a bre