Let me just say this: I remember one of my reviewers suggesting Conner/Deidre as a pairing. It's never going to happen, but just to make them happy I did write the two of them in a setting together. I have nothing against the suggestion; it was interesting if nothing else, but the first thought that popped into my head at the suggestion was "What if I had to write a sex scene at some point?" and I gagged a little. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Conner, he's very good to pair up if the people are Tim or Cassie, and age barriers have never bothered me (or race, or gender, or specie), but… Well, let me put it another way. Would anyone reading this ever, voluntarily, read a fic where Harley and Superman hooked up? Anyone? …Now imagine Conner and Deidre.
Quinns don't hook up with Blue Boy Scouts. Boy Scouts hook up with Bats, or Amazons, or other JLU members. I'm pretty sure one of them would eat each other's soul. Smallville does not mix willingly with Arkham.
…Wow. A very mellow tirade. Where's my medication…
-:-
Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood.
-Marie Curie.
Follow the Yellow Brick Road-:-
"Seriously, how long has she been out there attempting to Death Glare the roosters into the grave?"
"Since they started up at six this morning."
Conner Kent scratched the back of his head in submission at Tim's blunt reply.
Two weeks since the incident with All Soul's day and finding out who Harley Quinn's killer was—her slightly older granddaughter, no matter how much her other, younger granddaughter didn't want to believe it—had left Bruce with not much of an alternative than to send the youngest Quinn to the only place a Bat could think to send their children (legally adopted, or fostered or no) when they were angsting around the cave. Or, in Deidre's case, not eating and crying all night, missing work with Barbara; stuff like normal depressed people, not like Jason after he rose from the dead and started killing criminals.
Though, if she had started more violent actions, she still would have been sent by Bruce and Barbara to the Kent farm.
It had only been three days, and Conner was trying to treat her like Clark told him to, along with Tim when he came over the day before and Lois had harped over the phone: act like a gentleman around her and don't say anything about her family. Which would be a lot easier if he knew anything—anything—about her, other than what Baby Bat told him about her over the phone and what he overheard from members of the Justice League.
She worked for the cops (yes, he will admit that he laughed at the irony), she baked practical Manna from Heaven when she was super stressed and was allowed in the kitchen, she couldn't wear much else than black or red, unless she wanted people to notice drops of blood that leaked from various injuries she got crime fighting and, out on the farm where Conner was the only one looking after her (save Tim, thank Rao) because Clark and Lois were in Metropolis for some big thing at the Daily Planet, Conner discovered that she hated the roosters and couldn't seem to remember to call them roosters (not chickens) when she woke up at the first sounds they made in the morning. She had chased the biggest grey one around the farm for an hour screaming profanities at it the first morning she was there.
"Tell me again why I'm taking care of a Quinn?" Conner asked, taking the cup of coffee—strong, with three sugars—Tim offered as the communications expert made bacon, eggs, pancakes and French toast for the three of them. Krypto was not begging at the salt'n'pepper haired man's feet on account of the super dog being busy watching the strange blonde woman from the porch as she sprinted after the dark brown rooster screaming, "If I get my hands on your scrawny neck, your hen had better start looking for another hubby, you little-!"
"Bruce seems to think the farm is magic and when she goes back to Gotham she'll be less inclined to start crying at midnight for no reason in the Cave or during training with the League when Rex opens his mouth about Harley," Tim supplied readily, not really flinching as some bacon grease skimmed his knuckles.
"Sarcasm noted, but again: Why me?" Conner emphasized, pointing his thumb at his own face and cringing at the sound of Krypto joining in on the chasing of the oversized birds, "Couldn't he have waited until Clark got back?"
Tim shrugged, nonchalant as ever, "You've only met her twice. Once was when they brought her up to be interviewed for the League—when she wanted to run in the opposite direction when she saw you—and when she was on monitor duty and assigned you to go with Rex to the Omega quadrant for that thing with the Kundians."
"…And that makes me qualified, because?"
"I never said it made you qualified," Tim corrected, handing him a plate of chocolate chip pancakes and French toast, "Bruce just seems to be making a point in you getting to know her through forced observation of living together for a while. Remember when he sent Damian here with just you and Chris? It was a pain in the ass for you, but when the little monster got back he was less irritable and was willing to work more with Chris in the Titans."
"Can I put in a word here?" Conner begged, desperate and stabbing the center of his pancake like it was someone's stomach.
"Okay."
"Every time Bruce sent someone here, they were boys," here Conner emphasized the gender by pointing a finger in the air and weaving in around to make designs only he could see in his head, "Never Cass or Steph or even Babs. All boys and all Bats. She has stated, repeatedly that she is not a Bat, she just works for the Bats. I wasn't stupid enough to call her a Joker like Rex, but my point remains valid. I have no idea how to handle her. She's a girl! Help me, tell me what to do!"
Tim, for his part, bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning, or worse, laughing at the now hyperventilating superhero.
"You haven't done anything wrong yet. Just…be nice to her; she'll respond to that. Ask her questions, let her ask you questions. She's not bad; you have to know that by now. She's just a little depressed and needs a helping hand."
Conner grumbled some Kryptonian gibberish under his breath and brought the food up to his mouth, stabbing his fork into the pancakes just shy of cracking the plate underneath.
"This would be so much easier to deal with if Kara were still here."
Observing the relatively nice smelling Blonde Creature—the relative being in the fact that he could smell her rather chemically tampered blood from fifty feet away and it only got worse the closer he stood near her—as she continued to chase after the noisy birds his masters kept around for screaming and to get the lady birds to lay their eggs, Krypto sat placidly just outside the hen house, tilting his head as the Blonde Creature was inside the hen house. From what he could catch, the hens were not pleased with her being in their nest area and the Creature was….stuck.
Aside from the way the Creature seemed to respond to the squawking birds every morning she had been on the farm, Krypto noted that she and the Masters seemed to get well enough along. He wasn't exactly sure why she was here—he knew she didn't want to be; after all, he had found her sneaking out of the window of the bedroom she was staying in for the time being, at all hours of the night, only to wander around the cornfield and stop just shy of the gate, always muttering until he found her, allowed her to get him a pat on the head (which was so nice) and then coaxed back into the house—but Ace had given him a stern look when he and his own much darker Masters left; so the white wonder dog was determined to make sure she was safe.
That fact that she made him special dog food that even the Master enjoyed (granted, by accident as it was just sitting in a the skillet she had left on the stove when she had gone back outside to get more eggs from the hens and the Master had tasted three mouthfuls before she had told the Master that it was for Krypto; whereupon the Master had spat it out and gargled with soda) helped with that a lot.
A wiry arm poked out from the hole that served as the entrance to the big wooden nest and Krypto titled his head as the lady made a plaintive noise not unlike a whine as one of the roosters that had not been herded into the henhouse padded up the ramp and pecked one of the Blonde Creature's fingers. A thump was heard and the hand retracted.
The rooster walked into the hut and Krypto went to go and get the Master and his friend.
