A/N: My piece for Traught week. I've honestly been slacking just 'cause of a crazy schedule, but this weekend is my catch-up time. Here's some Traught.
Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice.
How Patrol Actually Goes
It's supposed to go something like this:
Meet up by the familiar phone booth, say hello, plan the routes, channel the communicator frequencies, carry on. Once finished, meet up again, establish some semblance of a report, carry on.
How patrol actually goes:
She shows up first, stepping out of the shadows and into the faint moonlight, careful to hide at the first sound of footsteps and trained to only answer his soft call of "Goddess?" Because for some enemies, "Artemis" is too easy
He's really supposed to be walking in, but he always likes taking her by surprise and drops in behind her. The loud clatter of his combat boots on gravel set off her defense systems, and she always swings her bow at his head, only to have it caught in the calloused hands hidden under black Kevlar.
After her heart slows and the need to hit him vaporizes, the heroine smiles and asks softly, "Together?"
It's faster, more fun, and there's never a need to wait for back up. Honestly, it's better this way. And he can talk without sounding crazy. He's chatty. It's part of his charm. "Of course," comes his smooth response, and they're off.
Her escape route to the rooftops is a trick arrow with a pulley system, but before she can even grab for the feathered end, his arm is wrapped around her waist, curved perfectly into the usual spot; the grappling hook pulls both bodies up to the rooftop where they watch over the city for a few moments, listening to the screaming of sirens, the dull roar of cars, and the voices of life. Gothamites through and through.
"East?" he offers, knowing her usual bait.
"West." Her grin says it all. East is too close to people. On the West side of Blüdhaven, they can be at peace.
She already looks fantastic in his eyes, and it's a good thing that the suit is armored or else she would know how beautiful he thought she was. He could keep his thoughts, and body parts, to himself. Still... With the moonlight upon her golden tresses and the black city skyline as her backdrop, he's incredibly turned on. He can never refuse such attraction.
Patrol can wait.
West they go, diving lower and lower as buildings shrink, pulling away from the starry sky, back down to Earth. He carries her upwards whenever need be, but they almost always go down, down, down-
There's a pause so she can catch her breath, and he smirks to himself, proud of his stamina. Before he can verbally bask in the glory, she's close enough to touch, less than an arm's length away, sending his heart into a flurried frenzy of wanting beats.
"Nightwing," she whispers lowly, seductively, even drawing a growl from his throat because she knows how much he loves her raspy words and the effect they have on him, "you know we're alone, right?"
Because patrol can never go right. They've pretty much forbidden it with such a routine.
He doesn't peel off the gloves, knowing fingerprints are dangerous in this day and age, and just takes her face in one hand and pulls her in close, their lips melting together as if meant to mix.
She's driven by passion, this love of everything he is. She finds so many beautiful things about him, and every single quality drives her mad with love, mad with wanting. She loves him, honestly. She finds him so fantastic to spend time with, better than anyone else she's ever met; he never fails to entertain.
He's driven by admiration, this respect for who she is. He finds so many incredible things about her, and every single aspect makes him love her more and more. He loves her, honestly. He finds her story inspiring, a phoenix rising from the ashes; in his eyes, she will never fall.
Her hands lace behind his neck, slightly tangled up into his raven hair. The goddess whispers plenty of "I love you"s into their open-mouthed kisses, sloppy but perfect, heated but collected, rough but sweet.
His hands don't need to keep her chin up or her lips close, so he lets them roam across her body, along the edges of her top, along the hem of the midriff, over her cute belly button, along the top of her tight pants... They settle on her hips for a moment before sharply pulling her in close, making her elicit a quick squeal of shock before laughing at him, laughing into their kiss.
Heat radiates off of them in waves, and if anyone took a heat sensor to their bodies in those moments, they'd be purple blobs with pulsating color where pounding hearts would be. Love, lust, and faith tie them together as two bodies becoming one, intertwined on a never-ending path.
Sirens shriek nearby, a signal of trouble, danger.
Breaking apart is painful, his last few nips at her lips, the cold that takes hold. It stings when the electricity from skin on skin strikes one last time before vanishing.
"Hero time," he murmurs into her golden hair with a lonely, tired sigh. His hands still reside on her lips, reluctant to release.
She breaks the connection, slow in pulling out her bow.
The job gets done, but the chemistry is never the same as it is in the first few moments. Sirens just remind them there's a job and that they're never alone.
A/N: Any good? Please drop a review, thanks for reading.
~Sky
P.S. Bonus points if you catch the movie reference.