AN: A collection of fluff written to and (loosely) inspired by Imagine Dragons' Night Visions. 'Radioactive' is not here because it has a story already, located in Phobias. WARNING: I say 'fluff', but their definition of fluff is not always the same as mine. Here there be madpeople. This is intended to be the last thing I post before October, by the way, because that's going to be big.
Three A.M. It was cold outside. It was snowing a little, actually. Gotham was sleeping. The schools were out on Thanksgiving break and there was an influx of tourists, home for the holiday. Of course, there were several vacancies from people gone elsewhere for the holiday.
Jonathan Crane had remained in Gotham. He had nowhere to go and no interest in the holiday anyway. All Thanksgiving was was a gathering of the gluttons, as far as he was concerned.
Right now he was sitting on the roof of their dingy apartment building, watching the stream of traffic and clutching a thermos filled with coffee.
"It's nicer at night." Kitty Richardson leaned against his side. "Quiet."
"Mm."
She reached behind them and pulled a bag of cookies from the backpack. What had possessed them to pack food and come up here was still unknown, but they'd been here for half an hour and the biting chill had slowly faded to a dull numbness.
He took a sip of the coffee and traded her the thermos for the cookies. They'd found some refrigerator cookie dough that afternoon, tucked back behind the carrots. It had been a little past its expiration date, but they hadn't looked off. Seeing as they hadn't died of food poisoning yet, it was probably fine.
"I hope my art teacher suffers a tragedy and can't come back to class."
"Why?"
"She has a statue fetish." Kitty laughed at him. "I'm serious! You haven't seen her. Even Scarecrow agrees with me."
"I suppose it's related to her repressed lust for her father?"
"For the last time, that was for a paper, not my actual opinion."
She nudged his ribs and rested her head on his shoulder.
"I keep hoping my English teacher will die, to be honest."
"Oh?"
"He creeps me out. One girl said he asked her to stay after class and offered her extra credit for…favours."
"Report him."
"He's tenured."
Hm. He'd worry about that later.
He brushed a bit of snow off the hood of his jacket and put the cookies back in the backpack. He was starting to feel a little drowsy, actually. Could be hypothermia…
"Ready to go in?"
"In a few minutes."
She hummed and wound her arms around one of his. Below, the traffic continued in a bright ribbon, blurry in the snow.
THE END