Author: Summer Starr
Disclaimer: I came, I saw, I wrote fanfiction for. No profit is being made, so don't sue.
Warnings: Slash (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash, Sups/Bats, a lot of others), Alternate Universe, Crossover
Author's Note: More fun in the sun. Or not.
Ratings: M
Title: Like A Dream
Like A Dream
Chapter Eight
Blue eyes surveyed the passing wreckage.
Things were bad. Things were very bad.
Richie's mind didn't shut down, though he wanted it to, as the scene before him went from bad to worse with each new Defender who walked past him.
The day had started pleasantly enough. He had woken up with Virgil gone, again, and had gone down to the lab, checking on some of the diagnostics he had left going on the night before. He had plopped down in front of his computer screen, toggled the mouse to get rid of the dancing badger screen-saver, and went to work.
The alarm had come out of nowhere, signaling all of the Defenders who were able-bodied and without pressing tasks to join Superman. Richie hadn't been given any instructions on what to do on days when all of the Defenders were gone, but he figured that he should remain where he was, doing what he had been doing. After all, these were the Defenders. Earth-shattering events were supposed to be routine.
The blond looked down the hallway, where he sat in an alcove, out of the way. 'If this is routine, I don't want to know what its like on a bad day.' From what he had been able to gather, there was an attack on some island or military base or something. It didn't really matter to Richie -where- it happened, just that it had.
They had, of course, won. Good -always- won.
But the price...
Richie gulped as the Amazon passed by. Wonder Woman half-carried and half-dragged the barely-conscious Batman down to the Medical Center. His clothes hung in tatters around him, and there was the unmistakable smell of burnt rubber and flesh. Pale skin was matted with old scars, fresh wounds, and purple bruises. Just looking at the list of observable injuries made Richie wince.
Superman followed closely behind, in a state of even more undress than Batman, though his wounds were less noticeable.
Green Arrow was slung over SuperGirl's shoulder, his leg so obviously broken that it made Richie sick just to look at it.
The Defenders were returning home in groups of five, and most of them went straight to the Medical Center. Virgil had yet to arrive, and Richie wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It seemed that the more critically injured were returning first, and if Virgil wasn't among them, then maybe it was because he wasn't badly hurt.
Or maybe it was because he was dead.
A burned Beast Boy, turned into a small horse-like creature, carried a whimpering Robin down the hallway.
Hawk and Dove supported an unconscious Booster Gold, before going back to help others, their lips pressed firmly shut.
Richie didn't like to think about that option. It wasn't a pretty thought. He had already lost his friend once, and he wasn't so sure he'd be able to handle losing him again. The last time it had happened... well, there was a blank spot in Richie's memories, where he couldn't remember anything of the better part of half a year. He knew he had lived those six months, obviously, he just couldn't remember them.
The bespectacled youth squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of something, anything, to get rid of the images of this parade of pain he was witnessing. If he had had a choice, he'd have been in the Lab, or in his and Virgil's room, waiting. Other Chosen were in the food hall, preparing meals for those who couldn't sleep, or who just... needed to be with others instead of alone, whether they were Defender or Chosen. Some Chosen were working in the Medical Center, as every hand seemed to be needed. The rest were in their quarters, waiting for their Defender to return home.
Or not.
The blond continued to wait for Virgil to come by, but as the parade of wounded heroes continued past him, he wasn't so sure that seeing his friend would be a good thing. Some of the people that passed by him, he didn't recognize.
Or if he did, it was only because of their attire.
Aquaman and Black Canary supported each other as they limped and softly cursed down the hallway. The female used the more colorful language of the two, though Richie thought some of her vocabulary had to do with the shoulder wound she had.
Green Lantern carried Flash down the hallway, bridal style, as Flash repeatedly and loudly protested that he was fine, just had a twisted ankle. Either Green Lantern had turned deaf, or he was ignoring the speedster.
Of course, there wasn't a point in speculating about where he could have been, or would have been, since he had gotten a message from Batman, the same Batman who seemed to be out of it just moments ago, telling him that he needed to be on hand, close to the Medical Center. The Night Terror had specifically stated that as soon as he had received treatment, Richie would need to be there, to 'talk'.
Why was it that whenever anyone said they needed to 'talk' with him, Richie always felt heart drop to his stomach?
Surely Batman didn't want to talk about the Lab projects. The man looked half-dead when he was brought in. Then again, if there was one thing that Richie had learned during his times spent with the dark Defender, it was that Batman was one of the most stubborn and persistent people Richie had ever met, if not -the- most.
Where was Virgil?
Had something happened to him?
Surely someone would tell him if something had. Surely... Wouldn't they?
Cyborg, sans one arm and with sparks running up and down one leg, passed by, carrying Raven in his arm, her dark hair matted with blood.
Richie continued to wait, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist as Defender after Defender moved past him. He didn't want to see the number of injured heroes pass by him anymore. He didn't want to think about why Virgil hadn't come to find him. He didn't want to think about why Batman wanted to talk to him. He didn't want to think.
He didn't want to be there.
He seriously did not want to be there.
The sound of someone calling his name startled Richie out of his musings so forcibly that he jumped at the soft words. Looking up, he found himself staring at the gentle eyes of one of the older Chosen.
"Mr. Pennyworth," Richie answered shakily, standing up from where he'd been crouching. He had seen the balding male before, several times in fact. He was Batman's Chosen, the only one that remained with the Night Terror through the many years that he'd been a Defender. Some rumored that Alfred was with Batman even before then.
"Master Bruce is looking to see you, Richard," said Alfred, his voice still slightly accented with his native English charm. "He's been sedated to help him sleep, but he's very insistent. So please, come along."
"O-okay," agreed Richie hesitantly. He had no idea who this 'Master Bruce' was, nor how Alfred knew him, nor why the aging male was tending to him and not to the obviously-in-need Batman. But if someone wanted to see him, and he had time, there was no reason not to go. He looked around wondering if Virgil was going to show up, soon. "But... I'm waiting for word from Batman because he said I was going to be needed here for a reason, so if he calls, or if Vir—Static gets here, I'm going to have to leave."
"Understood." Alfred nodded, leading the way through the Medical Center.
Richie took one last look back down the corridor before walking into the Medical Center for the first time that night. Usually, the clinic was calm, its white walls and bland setting were just a normal extension of the rest of the Fortress. But on this day, the place was filled with the sounds and smells of pain. There was the metallic scent of blood, so present that Richie could practically taste it in his mouth. He wasn't sure how the more sensitive Defenders could tolerate it. There were also the sounds of whimpers and moans, and somewhere within the sea of bodies, someone was crying.
The blond could feel his skin prickle at the atmosphere of the place. It wasn't that the temperature was any different, though with the press of bodies in one place, it was a bit warmer than in the corridor. No, the atmosphere of the place was that of a war zone. The bespectacled youth opened his mouth to ask questions, because he always had questions, but found that his voice was refusing to emerge, preferring to hide rather than interrupt the agony around him.
The two Chosen passed by Flash as a stonily silent Green Lantern was cutting one leg of the other's red costume off of him while a doctor was mixing stuff for a cast. They passed Cyborg, sparks still dancing up and down his injured leg, who was standing next to another bed, the one that held Raven, even as Beast Boy and Robin shared a bed. Richie bit his lower lip as he followed the balding Englishman. Looking around, it was easy to see that they were either going to have to release some of the Defenders to recover in their quarters, or they were going to run out of beds.
"Master Bruce insists that he will find no peace until he speaks with you." Alfred stopped outside one specific door. "Please, keep the conversation brief. He needs to rest to recover."
"All-all right." Richie nodded. When the door to the private room opened, the blond was surprised to see Alfred turning away. "Aren't you coming in?"
"I am needed elsewhere," Alfred said, as he walked away.
Taking a deep breath, Richie walked into the darkened room. The door shut behind him quietly, leaving him alone with the unknown figure in the bed. As far as rooms went, the solitary recovery room was actually quite nice: a bed, a television, and a chair next to the bed. It had a large 'window', which was similar to the one in the food hall, this one showing a star field. The temperature of the room was cooler, though not cold.
Still holding onto that thread of courage he had gathered, Richie walked further into the room, trying to figure out who it was on the bed. He was almost sure he knew the profile of the person, the man, but he wasn't a hundred percent positive of whom it was until the reclining figure turned to look at him. Even though the blue eyes were glassed over with exhaustion, Richie knew whom he was.
Batman. Without his mask.
Innocent blue eyes flew open wide at this breach in etiquette. There was only one person that Richie was supposed to be able to see out of 'uniform', and that was Virgil.
"Richard," Bruce rasped, wincing at the pain even that one word caused.
"Ba-Bat-Batman," stuttered Richie. Walking forward on trembling legs, Riche knew this... This was... This was bad. This was very bad.
"I... need you," managed Batman finally, closing his eyes and willing the medication he had already ingested to give him just a few more moments of clarity. "I need you... to do something... for me."
-oOo-
Virgil nearly fell off the transport platform. He could feel hands pressed against him, helping to keep him standing, but the sensation was almost... distant.
He... was so tired.
Drained.
Dimly, he was aware of someone pulling his arm over a strong shoulder, and someone grabbing him around the waist. A soft, disembodied voice said, "I got him. You get one of the others."
And then they were off, walking down the hallway toward the Medical Center.
Walking. Always moving. Did they ever stop moving? It seemed he had been moving forever, that being a Defender was a lifetime ago and all this life consisted of was walking.
Dark eyes focused on the floor in front of him. He had to concentrate to manage to put one foot in front of the other, as the floor seemed to tilt crazily under him. His head hurt, but then everything hurt. Not the kind of hurt that involved being slammed into a building or anything, because he knew how that felt and that didn't feel like this. No, this was the kind of bone-crushing hurt that had more to do with being utterly exhausted. He hadn't been this tired in...
He hadn't ever been this tired.
He didn't think.
Then again, his mind wasn't all that clear, and what he could access of it wasn't much, and definitely not memories.
He heard doors opening somewhere, and somehow found himself in the Medical Center. Blinking confusedly, Static looked around. And that's when he realized that it had been Aqualad who'd helped him to the Center. Normally, they didn't do too well with each other, what with one being electric and the other being water, but it wasn't like either of them were in any kind of shape to do anyone but themselves harm. "Thanks, man."
"No problem." Aqualad sighed as he levered Static down to a spot on the floor next to the other teenage Defenders. The aquatic male wrinkled his nose at the smell of burnt fur, and turned to see Beast Boy whimpering on the bed, shivering as he waited for one of the medics to tend to him. Robin was behind him on the bed, one hand rubbing up and down Beast Boy's arm absently, trying to sooth him as best as he could even though the masked youth was in obvious pain.
Aquarian eyes turned to look back at the darker-skinned Defender sitting on the floor. Static appeared to be in shock, but Aqualad was almost certain it had more to do with exhaustion. But he wasn't a trained medic, so he wasn't going to take any chances. He took a few steps back, intent on going back to the Transporter, but he accidentally walked into one of the Chosen as he did so.
"Pardon me, sir," Alfred acknowledged as he slid past the merboy and towards Robin. "Hello, young sir."
"Hey, Alfred," Robin wheezed. "Could you tend to Beast Boy first? I think he's going into shock."
"As you like." Alfred nodded his head and walked around the bed to look over the green teenager.
Aqualad tuned out the Englishman's chatter. He turned and looked around and asked no one in particular, "Shouldn't someone get Static's boy? I mean, isn't it part of a Chosen's job to tend to their Defender?"
"I saw him going to visit with Bats a moment ago," Flash grunted as he maneuvered past them, frowning under his mask at the required use of crutches for his broken ankle. "He shouldn't be too long, though. With all the sedatives they're bound to have given him, Batman shouldn't be conscious for too much longer."
"You'd be... surprised... at how... long he... can last... drugged up," gasped Robin as he tried to move out of Alfred's way so that the older male could tend Beast Boy unimpeded.
"Not really," Green Lantern replied as he arrived, carrying bandages. The Defenders who were at least somewhat able had picked up the task of helping the others. Whatever it took to clear the room, to make beds available for the rest of them, they would do it. "The man defines willful."
"Why's Richie with him?" Static asked, his voice cracking with strain. He was trying to follow the conversation, he really was, but it was difficult. People were moving around, and the lights were hurting his eyes, not to mention the sick smell in the air was causing his already roiling stomach to toss around like a professional hackey sack.
"Lab Assignment, as far as I can understand," Alfred replied as he smoothed on a liberal amount of burn cream over Beast Boy's abused flesh.
"Hey, kid, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," offered Green Lantern as he knelt down in front of Static. He did a quick field check to make sure that nothing was broken and checked for a concussion.
John wasn't a stupid man. After his conversation with Virgil, he had started to think about the young man's situation. And he also got to thinking about where Richie spent most of his 'away' time, when Virgil was off being Static. It was very easy to understand Virgil's concerns. The young Defender had every right to be cautious when it came to Batman.
-Everyone- had the right to be cautious when it came to Batman.
At the same time, if nothing was really going on... It would cause an unwelcome stir, especially for Virgil and Richie if they accused Batman of something of which he was innocent. And yet, there was the question of why, exactly, had Batman called Richie in to talk with him before he fell under the spell of heavy sedatives.
"Well, kid, I can't find anything wrong that a bit of sleep won't cure," Green Lantern stated as he stood up, away from the exhausted youth.
"God, I could sleep for a month," whined Virgil.
The former marine turned to look around, trying to find someone to help Static back to his quarters when he noticed Richie departing from Batman's room. "Hey, Richie, over here!"
The blond jerked at the sound of his name but immediately ran over to them. When he saw Static on the ground, he didn't stop to say hello to any of the others. Instead, he knelt down beside his Defender and hugged him. Virgil was like a rag doll in his arms, slumping against him with all the grace of a bag of marshmallows.
Virgil sighed as he leaned heavily against Richie, enjoying the comfort it brought. He wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around his Chosen, but they were too heavy. It took an extreme amount of will power for the Dakota Defender to gather enough air to whisper, "Help me up."
"Are you okay?" Richie finally managed to ask, pulling just far enough away to look Virgil in the eyes.
"Yeah, 'm fine." Virgil tried to grin, but the result was a bare twitch of his lips. "Just drained."
"He's free to go," said Green Lantern. "And it'd be best if you got him out of here now. We need as much room to move as we can get."
The blond nodded, pressing his lips together. Slinging one of Virgil's arms over his shoulder, and wrapping the other arm around his waist, Richie managed to drag Virgil back onto his feet, unaware of how his hold mirrored that of Aqualad's.
Green Lantern watched the two leave, his green eyes narrowing as he turned to look back at Alfred. He was very tempted to ask the old man what Batman thought he was doing, but he held his tongue. Instead, he simply said, "I need to speak with Batman as soon as he's awake."
"I'll tell him, sir, though I doubt that I will be the one who's going to be there when he does regain consciousness," Alfred remarked, his hands never faltering as they continued to bind Beast Boy's wounds. "If you don't mind, could you see to young Robin's injuries? I think he's suffered a broken rib or two."
"Try four," Robin winced, "and a broken foot."
Flash peered over at the younger male from where he was leaning against the wall. "Ooh, that's bad. There was... Well, someone was trapped under a brick wall. Was that you?"
"That was -you-, Hotshot," GL corrected, shaking his head.
"Nuh-uh, GL, I was... Wait a minute." Flash paused for a moment, his head tilted one side and his eyes squinted as he looked up to the ceiling gods for the answers. "I was... Was that me? No, that wasn't—wait. Maybe. Was that me?"
Robin's face scrunched up into a familiar, questioning scowl. "What are you -on-?"
"I have -no- idea," grinned Flash lazily as he pushed off the wall, where he had been leaning. "But yours looks -way- worse than mine. Mine's like a... sprain or... sprain. Let me go get that doctor with that cast stuff."
"-You- are going home and going to bed," Green Lantern informed the speedster. "You're barely even wearing pants, and I don't want you to be here when your exhaustion—or your medication, for that matter—catches up with you."
"But, GL—"
"Go. Now." The words were simple enough, but they held no room for argument. They stood there and glared at each other for a moment before, Flash hobbled towards the door, muttering to himself. When he was sure that Flash was obeying, John went in search of one of the doctors.
Robin watched them both leave, before he turned to Alfred. "How is he?"
"Hurt," Alfred replied, and there was a tiredness that Robin couldn't recall ever hearing in the old man's voice before.
"How badly?"
"He'll survive." It went without saying that Alfred would prefer to be closer to the usually stoic Defender, as he had been countless times in the past. But with the rest of the Bat-family either away on other... business, or incapacitated, he knew he wasn't going to be able to be there to watch over his charge. "However, with as damaged as you and Nightwing are... I doubt that I will be able to provide him with any form of... comfort."
Robin nodded as best as he could, adjusting his position to try to lessen his pain. And then what Alfred was saying really hit him. "Oh. Oh, damn."
"Exactly," sighed Alfred. It was no secret among the many who wore the Bat-insignia that the man behind the cowl was plagued by nightmares. No one who had received as many scars could remain without them. The dreams were especially violent when he was wounded and unable to move. The Night Terror had been known to cause further harm to himself than his initial injuries, fighting and struggling against the invisible restraints that pinned him to the bed. To ease the strain of these, it was usually up to Alfred, or one of Batman's Chosen, to sit with him, to watch over him, while he slept. However, that only worked if he trusted his guardian. Having a stranger watch over him would only cause the injured Defender to panic and struggle all the harder. He had done that when the Chosen had been new.
"Is that why he brought in Richie?" Robin asked, curious. "I mean, I kinda figure—"
"No, that's not why," Alfred broke in, casting a sharp look at the youngest of his charges. "Richard was brought in for a Lab Assignment, nothing else. You'd best keep that in mind, young man."
"Okay," Robin replied, his voice soft. He swallowed, and realized how sharp and scratchy his throat felt. "So... how are you going to manage him and the rest of us?"
"I... I will think of something." Alfred smiled politely as Green Lantern returned, dragging one of the doctors with him with a cart full of casting materials. He didn't need to explain that he already had someone in mind for the task. There were very few secrets within the Bat-family of which Alfred wasn't aware, and this was one instance where the elder Chosen was going to take advantage of that. "I always do."
When Beast Boy was taken care of, and a professional was seeing to Robin, Alfred excused himself. He first searched through the wounded, looking for a specific individual. When the desired person seemed to not be among them, the Englishman then moved on to the uninjured. When he found the person for whom he was looking, the elder Chosen felt an almost giddy lightness settle over him, brushing away some of his dread and fear.
"Excuse me," Alfred said, bowing his head slightly.
"Yes?" Martian Manhunter looked up from the console where he had been going over the technical data from the battle. It was not unusual for some of the Chosen to approach him, asking if he knew where certain people were, so he did not think twice about being approached by one of their older ones.
"I am sorry to interrupt, but... I was wondering if you might be able to assist me." Alfred straightened up, and looked at the green male with as much dignity as was bred into him. He had to handle this just so; otherwise, Bruce would be extremely put-off by this turn of events. "Master Bruce, Batman, is... sleeping right now. I was wondering if you could watch over him while he sleeps."
Puzzled, yet intrigued, J'onn leaned away from the console. "An odd request. Why...?"
Alfred opened his mouth and then paused. How much could he give away? How much should he give away? Finally, he answered honestly, "Because he trusts you."
The tall alien blinked his monochromatic eyes, trying to work through that piece of information. It would be easy, oh-so-easy to slip inside the human's mind and find out exactly what he meant by that statement. A temptation. A sweet lure, but one that J'onn knew he would not take. There was a very good reason that Batman trusted him.
Be that as it may, Martian Manhunter thought that it would be more appropriate, more fitting if either Wonder Woman or Superman were watching over the Gotham Defender. After all, while he might claim to trust J'onn, Batman had been... intimate with the other two. Well, there were more than just those two, but still. "Would not Superman or—"
"No. They wont do." Alfred shook his head. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Please."
J'onn opened his mouth, a denial almost within reach of stating. Instead, he closed his mouth and merely nodded his head in acceptance.
-oOo-
Virgil woke up to two things: a full bladder and the knowledge that just thinking about moving made his body ache. Still, he hadn't wet the bed since he was a toddler, and he wasn't about to get into the habit. With his entire body trembling from the sheer agony of it, Virgil managed to push himself up into a sitting position.
And then he managed to swing his legs to the side of the bed.
He stood up on shaking legs, and the world tilted before it almost faded out completely. But strength of will, and the fact that he had some pride, dammit, and didn't want to end up face first on the floor, gave him the edge and allowed him to put one foot in front of the other.
It seemed to take forever before he reached the bathroom. He fumbled for the drawstrings to his sleep pants, cursing as his fingers felt far too large for his hands. He couldn't remember ever feeling this... this... helpless? This much in pain? It was as if every muscle in his body had been scrubbed with a scouring pad, his head carved out like a jack o' lantern, and his eyes doused with salt. All those aches and pains aside, Virgil licked his dry lips and grimaced at the taste in his mouth.
As far as he was concerned, something large, poisonous, and furry had to have crawled inside his mouth at some point and died.
When he was done relieving himself, he shambled over to the sink. Blinking his eyes, he managed to look at himself in the mirror. Well, he didn't -look- as bad as he felt, at least. With a sigh, Virgil turned on the water and grabbed the soap: first, his hands and then his face. Finally, he brushed his teeth, hoping that he'd be able to get the taste of whatever road-kill, or Starfire's cooking, he'd accidentally ingested out of his mouth.
Done with that, Virgil staggered back out to his bed. Sure, he'd just completed a normal wake-up routine, but he was in no shape to be out of bed and he knew it. Walking back to the bed, he realized that Richie wasn't there.
He'd woken up alone.
If he'd had any energy any at all, he might have cared. As it was, he was too empty to bother trying.
Virgil slid back onto the bed and was unconscious before he had the chance to get back under the covers. The next time Virgil opened his eyes, he was still lying on his stomach, but the covers were up around his shoulders, and there was a warm body pressed against him. With a yawn, Virgil rolled onto his side, which caused Richie to stir.
"Hey," Richie sighed, his blue eyes blinking lazily.
"Hey y'rself," answered Virgil, his voice thick and slurred.
"How ya feelin'?"
"Like shit."
"Yeah, thought so," Richie grinned.
Dark eyebrows drew together as Virgil frowned. "Where were you earlier?"
"The Lab." The blond shrugged. He reached out and pushed one of Virgil's errant dreads back, out of the way so that he had an unobstructed view of his friend's face.
"Oh." Continuing to frown, the exhausted Defender blinked as he tried to gather his thoughts together. "Hey, Rich?"
"Yeah?"
Virgil paused, unsure of himself or how much he wanted to do this. No, that was a lie; he knew exactly how much he wanted to do this, and that amount was in negative numbers. It was just... he didn't want Richie to be there out of obligation or a sense of duty. He'd thought about it, while planet-side, fighting for the opportunity to just breathe, and knew that if Richie wanted to go, there really was no point in being selfish. It'd just make them both miserable. "Are you happy?"
"Huh?"
"Are you happy?" came the softly repeated question.
"Well, yeah, sure, I mean—"
"Because if you wanted to be someone else's Chosen, I... don't want you staying here. I'd rather you just go," Virgil interjected, his eyes closed as he concentrated on breathing. Funny, he hadn't thought that there was a single muscle in his body that didn't hurt before. Now, though, he knew otherwise. Now, he could feel his heart not only aching, but also cracking.
Richie stilled, his breathing quieting down to near silence. "Are you kicking me out?"
"Wouldn't you be happier with... someone else?"
"No." The denial was quick and harsh. Dark brown eyes opened to see Richie glaring at him, his lower lip sticking out slightly in an angry pout. "I don't want to leave. And you -aren't- going to kick me out."
Virgil grinned. "Okay. Just checking."
"Don't even kid about things like that, man," Richie warned him. "I'm not leaving you, and there's nothing you can do about it other than kicking me out of the Fortress. And -that- just isn't gonna happen."
"Well, I could lock you out." Virgil tried to lighten the dark mood he'd set. "Maybe get you lost in the corridors..."
"I'd pick every lock inside this place until I got back here," Richie snorted. "You aren't getting rid of me, so don't even think about it."
Even as tired as he was, Virgil couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped him. Without stopping to think about it, pushing the pain that racked his body out of the way, Virgil leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Richie's mouth.
It was the first time he had kissed his Chosen, at least while the blond was awake.
Richie was surprised, but welcoming, turning slightly so that their lips could come into even more contact. When Virgil made to retreat, Richie leaned forward, keeping the connection between them. It was so slight, so fragile, so...
Exciting.
Virgil had ridden the magnetic currents with which the Earth pulsed, had flown with heroes who had saved worlds and destroyed solar systems, had tangled with his fair share of criminals, and had, upon a few occasions, saved his city. However, he couldn't remember feeling quite this high, this combination of powerful and powerless, during any of those times. The kiss... It was as if it was recharging his powers, but it wasn't enough.
They broke apart, both still lying down on the bed, their eyes sliding open. They were so close they seemed to be sharing the same breaths. Richie licked his lips, hoping to taste Virgil still there. When the pink tongue darted out, Virgil's mind decided to take a vacation strategically lower in his body, barking at his body along the way and telling it to ignore the pain and exhaustion. He could sleep when he was dead.
At some unseen signal, they both leaned forward again, eyes sliding shut. Richie pushed Virgil back, taking advantage of Virgil's weakened state. Gently, he placed one hand on the hero's shoulder, feeling the heat pulse up his arm. Careful not to frighten the other male, Richie parted his lips and slid his tongue across Virgil's lower lip. Almost eagerly, Virgil parted his lips. Richie took the opportunity to taste the darker male, reveling in the chance. The kiss deepened so fast Richie thought he was drowning.
Virgil moaned as he returned the playful duel. He raised one, shaking hand to pull at the back of Richie's neck, the other moving to snake around the blond's waist, because he didn't want this to end. He'd give up breathing if only this didn't end. But like all good things, it eventually did, leaving Virgil panting, burning, and weak. He didn't have enough strength to even open his eyes, to focused on regaining his breath. He could feel Richie lean up for a moment, could hear him panting as well, but then felt him lean back down, placing wet, open mouth kisses on his jaw, his neck, his throat, and oh, God, when did that become an erogenous zone?
Richie grinned as Virgil whimpered. Taking pity on the other male, Richie stopped his gentle teasing, knowing how exhausted he was. However, he wasn't about to stop touching Virgil. Instead, he continued to lay, half on and half off, of the Defender, pinning him to the bed. He could still feel Virgil's hands at his back and at the nape of his neck, so it wasn't as if Virgil was trying to get rid of him. Richie smiled as he nuzzled Virgil's neck. "Go to sleep, Virgil. You're going to need your strength."
If Virgil was going to retort, it got lost in the effort it took to regain his breath. He fell asleep with his head turned towards Richie's, breathing in his Chosen's scent.