2 (original) (raw)

Title: (Un)Convinced
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Jason/Bruce, Tim, Poison Ivy
Rating: R
Word Count: 758
Prompt: For hc_bingo: Combat Scenarios; For 50_darkfics: Animal
Summary: Jason knows this mission isn't gonna end well.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: Seventh (eighth now, counting (Un)Bound) in the (Un)Familiar-verse; follows (Un)Tamed. This got so long that I decided to go 2 parts with it (and thus, used more prompts ^_~). The next part will follow shortly.

(Un)Convinced

This isn't gonna end well.

Three weeks of nightly patrol with Bruce and the vampire, and Jason's convinced that the little brat is gonna screw things up sooner or later. He's still too fucking green, too young, too inexperienced to hunt the way Jay and Bruce have been. He's not part of the rhythm they've established, and he hasn't been active in a single take-down. Yeah, the little stalker has come in handy for a some surveillance and recon, but watching and participating are two very different things.

And never mind the blood lust the kid is still working around. He's only been a vamp for two months now, and he can't even control his fucking teeth yet.

He's just a damn baby.

“Wolf, circle around. Create a distraction,” the Bat orders him when they get to their target for the evening, a warehouse that looks like it's been converted to a greenhouse, more windows than walls. “Bloodwing, take the left. I'm on the right.”

Fuck, Jay snorts, shifting down onto four legs to follow his orders, his suit discarded in a discreet spot where he can retrieve it later. The kid ain't ready for a coordinated strike yet, and this shit's just gonna blow up in their faces, he's sure of it.

From the back of the greenhouse, Jason can see into the heart of the building, his lupine vision showing him the heat of growing plants and—

There's a woman standing in the central thicket, her heat signature all over the place as she tends to the plants, hot and cold swirling and moving as leafy vines curl around her in what looks like tender caresses. No wonder Bruce was so hell-bent on getting this Isley chick.

The slight movement of Tim's heat signature registers in his peripheral, and Jay has to bite down on a growl. The kid is too close, dammit. Taking chances and relying on that fucking stealthy shit that was never as stealthy as he'd assumed. Another flash of hot movement, and Jason knows Bruce is coming in through from the opposite side. Quiet.

Time to move on the plant bitch.

A snarl to draw her attention to the back of the greenhouse, and Jay shoves his way in through a partially-open window, lands amidst the plants that seem to turn to him as one at the same time the chick sees him. He just has to lead her back from that central thicket, keep her from seeing Bruce and the kid as they close in behind her—

A shriek from the left, and the plant bitch twirls as Tim gives himself away, suddenly and inexplicably wound up in vines as bright purple seed pods turn toward him and explode, pollen filling the air around him with a yellow stain. “Who are you!” the chick demands, her voice thick and sweet like honey, leaves rustling in an angry whisper around her.

But Bruce chooses the exact wrong moment to try to distract her with a shout of his own, and he's quickly tangled up in vines as well. More pods open, bathing him in yellow as the vines squeeze tight around his chest.

Jay leaps forward with a spike of adrenaline propelling him forward, his stride eating up the distance quick, and his teeth close over the thickest vine curled around his Bat. Pulling, gnawing, he chews at the tough plant, the taste of copper and lemons and rotten eggs filling his mouth as the vine is crushed in his jaws.

There's screaming and shouting, Tim somewhere behind them shrieking as the plant bitch gives this ungodly wail like wind slicing between the canyons of Gotham's streets, but Jay's too occupied with the vines that seem to have doubled their efforts since he started in on them. Bruce is struggling for air, his breathing ragged, and Jason can't get the thick tendrils off fast enough, teeth shredding and chewing, his claws digging into the rigid green skin.

Snarling and growling as he works at the plants, he doesn't notice the thick golden dust that colors the air around him until he can smell it, taste it. Vanilla, cinnamon, pumpkin, roses, chocolate, marshmallow, peanut butter, mint.

The finest flowers that Alfred has growing in the garden behind the Manor don't smell so good.

Shock and unexpected lust coursing through his body as he shifts out of his wolf form involuntarily, his entire being torn between terror, the desire to be held and soothed and to know that Bruce is okay, and the sudden need to possess his mate, he realizes absently that he was right. This isn't gonna end well.

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