Title: Both alike in dignity (3750 words) Fandom: DCU (Birds of Prey/Teen Titans v3) Pairing: Oracle/Superboy Rating: Adult Timeline: Handwavy post-War Games pre-Infinite Crisis. Summary: When you're moving, you might as well call in the strongest guy around who doesn't have much to do with his time. Oracle has quite the Rolodex of them. Notes: For Jamjar, who now owes me Girl!Ted Kord and possibly Girl!Booster Gold, and for Zee, who reminded me that this existed. Illustration by Kokiri (needs link). "So what did you need me to do?" Superboy says, all bright smile and eager boy energy. Oracle hangs up the cell. "You're getting faster." "Yeah." He shrugs. "Cl -- Superman says it's normal. For me." She tries not to smile at him too obviously. "Ah. He would know, I guess." She hasn't seen a smile that bright since -- too long. "Yeah. Yeah, he does." Superboy shrugs. "Anyway. What did you need, Oracle?" She waves a hand at her new, empty warehouse. "Well, I thought, I'm setting up shop in Metropolis for a while, and I've got all this stuff, and --" she glares at him. "I could do it myself. It's just more efficient to ask for help, and all my operatives are busy." Superboy blinks at her. She wonders how long it's been since Superman was quite that ingenuous, and then shakes her head. If he ever stops being that ingenuous, she'll start worrying. "Oh," Superboy says. "Okay. What do you need moved?" One button press and the Aerie's hatch opens up. "All of that," she says, pointing at a vast array of boxes. "How are you with wiring computers?" His eyes have gone wide, superspeed or no superspeed. "Um. Maybe you should talk to Robin about that part. But --" He floats up and takes the first box. "Just point me in the right direction." She rubs her hands together. "Just what I like to hear." The power to make things fly without actually lifting them turns out to be even more useful than the power to pick up stuff. Ten minutes in, there's a parade of boxes marching into the warehouse, and Superboy's inside directing stuff. "This is kinda hard," he admits, when a book goes wobbling to the floor. "It's good training. Ah -- that binder needs to go on the top shelf." "Gotcha." He slides it into place and the box parade continues. "I feel like I should have an umbrella," Oracle says. Superboy blinks and a box tips. "Why?" "You know." She snaps her fingers a couple of times. "This is very Mary Poppins." "Um. Okay." He shrugs and rights the box. "You haven't seen Mary Poppins?" She frowns. "I guess I need better data on your hosts." "I don't watch a lot of movies. Well, not kid movies anyway. You want this desk set up now?" "Yes. Over in the corner, under those grimy windows." She points, and he goes, assembling the modular furniture as if he has to see it to work on it. Interesting, because the boxes keep on flowing in. The next box he opens is her stuffed dolls. "Oh," he says, and makes them do somersaults until she can't help but smile at him. Boys. "They're really cute," he says, and catches a Batgirl. "Is this you?" Oracle feels herself blush. Damn. Too much time working behind a screen where the reactions don't matter. "Sort of, yes." "Cute." Batgirl goes sailing toward the ceiling, and he catches her in his hand. His very clean hand, actually, considering all the stuff he's been moving around today and how dusty he'd be if he actually had to pick it all up. "Thanks," Oracle says, and even though she doesn't have the voice modulator on, she can be monotone if she wants to. "Hey," Superboy says next, unfazed as -- well -- as Dick by her attempt at chastising him. "A pillow?" "I'm not going to commute very far. Don't let the blankets touch the ground, that's all." He bites his lip while he's focusing on putting her bed together. It makes him look a little older. A little less like Superman, really, because Superman doesn't get all furrowed. Interesting. Charming, almost. Until the focus slips and a box with orange tape on it wobbles. "Careful with that! That's part of the monitor." "It's heavier than the others." Superboy frowns. "Actually, a lot of these are pretty heavy." "Set them down gently," she orders immediately. He does it so softly she can't hear them land. "Okay, they're okay," he says, breathlessly. And then he crumples into a heap. "Shit." Oracle sighs. "Did you have to fall on the floor, kid?" She could easily whistle up some Boy Scout help, but that would be admitting she needed it. It just takes some dragging, and some arm strength, and really good brakes, to get the kid onto the bed where he is a completely unconscious, kind of sweaty, dusty lump of beautiful boy. His eyelids don't even flutter as he breathes. She tries pinching him, and -- nothing. Just dead weight. Oracle says, "Some help you were," and checks box 153, the one with the green tape. No, the Kryptonite's still sealed up. Whatever this is, it wasn't her fault. Logically, he's just tired. She starts unpacking one of the boxes of books that got parked when he was fading out. It was all training, after all, and what doesn't kill him makes him stronger. He's not dead, obviously. Just zonked out -- and snoring. Barbara puts her head in her hands. "Dammit." She's emptied four boxes of books onto the shelves by the time his breathing shifts. "About time," she says, and wheels over, but he just turned onto his side. "Men!" Barbara throws a stuffed Batman at him. It hits him squarely in the chest and he doesn't even start to respond. "You are more trouble than you're worth, Kon-El," she says, and starts tugging his shoes off. "If you're going to sleep on my bed, you'd better not get it filthy." He doesn't answer, of course. And it's probably a little cold in the warehouse, especially if he's going to sleep -- however long it is Kryptonian telekinetics sleep when they're worn out.  She sighs and opens another box, this one with the blanket in it. "Incorrigible brat." It's soft and fuzzy and he doesn't deserve it, not when her boxes are still outside, but he looks so comfortable under it that she can't stay mad at him. "Oh, fine. Just sleep, then." He's dead to the world. His defenses go down when he sleeps, and he really is pretty as his daddy. So she kisses his cheek. Which, of course, wakes him up, and she's rolling even closer to the bed before she realizes it. "Um," Superboy says. "I don't think I can do more than a box at a time right now." "Don't worry about it." Oracle shrugs. "I'll call someone else." He blinks at her -- slow, sleepy eyes. "Okay. Sorry." "You shouldn't have done so much, probably." "Yeah. Why'd you kiss me?" There's that damn blush again. She's really going to have to work on that. "Habit." Superboy laughs. "Weird habit." "You know how it goes," she says, going for flippant. "You wear a guy out, he falls asleep in your bed, you give him a peck and get on with life." "I guess." Now he's blushing, and Oracle can't pass up information, even if it's probably going to be too much. "Okay. Spill it." He stammers. "What?" Oracle smirks at him. "Come on, kid. You left my boxes everywhere, you sack out, you're probably going to want dinner -- what's so embarrassing?" "Oh, nothing." He shrugs. "I guess I just don't get enough kisses from gorgeous geniuses these days." She chuckles. "Uh-huh. Not enough of them kicking around your new digs?" His grin is crooked. "Nah. Dairy queens aren't my style." He sits up and lets his feet dangle off the bed. "No edge, you know? No danger." Oracle raises an eyebrow at him. "You think I'm dangerous?" He must have gotten that grin from Superman. It hits her right in the gut, warm and sweet. "Hell yeah." On one hand, he's eighteen. Sort of. And on the other, he's Superboy, and he's been enough places and seen enough things that he's got an edge, he's a cape. Her people, in a lot of ways, even if he is an alien. It's been a while since she got that kind of grin from anyone. She grins back. "Damn straight." And she kisses him. He tastes like sunlight and like he's just as young as he is. That's not his hand on her back, because the angle's wrong. It's TK, and it must be back enough for this, because she's not in her chair. It's like being in giant hands without being squished at all. Like flying. He's going to have to take her flying as soon as he's recovered. But first he can keep on kissing her like that, with that warm grip-not-a-grip rubbing her back with the same subtlety he used to put her books away without ruffling a page. "Oh man," he says, and if anybody else picked her up, she'd have to hurt him. But it's like he's not even thinking, like he doesn't even know she "needs" him to do this. Which she doesn't, it's her bed and she can get in it just fine. She's in it now, tangled up in the fluffy blanket and his arms -- Kon's, Superboy's, whatever his alias is when he wants an alias. He's kissing her again with that hungry warmth -- maybe she should give him a snack, replenish that lost blood sugar from all the TTK -- but right now he's more intent on pushing her shirt up and fingering her nipples. She's so used to people who know her it's hard to remember to groan. "Yeah?" he says, making it a question. Good boy. "That okay?" "A little harder --" and he knows how to do increments, and she's moaning now without thinking about it. "Yes, that's --" making her shiver hard. She pushes on his shoulders a little. If he doesn't get it -- it's negotiable. Kon grins at her and goes with it -- so he's had some experience. Probably not with his keepers out in the middle of nowhere, and her files are woefully incomplete. He's -- she's -- floating. She's floating from the waist down and she didn't realize it. Surreality is a side effect of paralysis she hasn't seen documented very often, but it's likely most other victims don't get to mix TTK with their disability. The only reason she was floating -- because now she's sinking -- was so he could get her pants off. The only reason she knows he's nuzzling her thigh is because she can see it. That's back in the comfortable side of surreality, and she can deal with it. "A little higher," she suggests, and he looks up. His eyes are so blue it hurts. "Not good?" "Not anything, right there," she says ruefully, and watches him wince. He doesn't have any reason to know how bad it is. He has every excuse and it doesn't hurt to watch him realize. Not like it hurt to watch -- "Sorry," Kon says, and he runs his fingers over her pubis. "But this is -- okay?" "Yes," Barbara says. If it comes out as a sigh, well, it comes out as a sigh. "A little -- harder." "Yeah?" He presses down a little more, then lightens up, looking for her clit. "You want me to go down on you, right?" He's grinning again, a little crookedly. And she thought he was ingenuous. It makes her laugh. "Sure." The first swipe of his tongue is too light, and he's lifting her hips -- look, ma, no hands. He's had practice, all right, and he's making soft little "Mm" sounds, but when she's quiet, he looks up again. "No, huh?" Barbara gives in to the urge to tousle his hair. "It's -- well. Nice, firm strokes, okay?" "Firm." He licks his lips, then licks her, and it's harder than she can remember having felt. Harder and in the right place, and then again, almost fast enough. "Hmm?" It's somewhere between another appreciative noise and a question. She hasn't come from this since -- since. Because even if they -- if he -- believed her, he didn't have the strength, not in his tongue. Figures she'd have to go to Superboy for that. He makes her moan again. "Like that -- that's -- yes." She sighs, and he's sighing with her. "A little -- faster." He takes directions disgustingly well. She lets herself push his head down -- of all people, he can fight back if he wants to -- and he goes with it, running his hands up her lower back and then she realizes he's lifting her, to just the right angle so he can reach, just -- right -- there -- "Keep going -- like -- like that --" Barbara bites her lip hard. "Oh --" She can hardly hear him, but she can feel Kon still humming a little. Moaning, maybe. "Yes -- god, that's --" She wasn't ready for this, and she wasn't expecting it. This wasn't in today's agenda or hinted at in his dossier. "That's -- oh fuck --" She tightens her fist around a handful of sheet and fights not to make any more noise than she has to, gasping for breath and holding onto him and the world while her spine -- what's left of it -- melts away. He doesn't stop, which seems really optimistic until she realizes it has nothing to do with her, and he's just not aware of her limitations. "Hang on," she says, and he looks up. She'd never have figured that the little curl on Superman's forehead was genetic, but -- well, maybe it is, or maybe it's a specific haircut the kid's got. "Everything okay?" The benefit of having somebody who apparently levitates his partners without even thinking about it is she can push her hair away from her forehead and he's still got her knees over his shoulders. No sweat. "Great. Just -- that's enough, really." "Aw." He sets her down, ever so gently, and runs his hand up her thigh, then looks up at her face and strokes her stomach again. "You sure?" Barbara reaches for him. "Yes. C'mere." Kon kneels up and hugs her, reaching under her shirt to pet her breasts. "So, um --" "All that and you didn't even take off your pants." She nips at his ear. "That was silly." He shrugs easily. "I had other stuff on my mind." "Mm. And now what's your excuse?" Kon laughs. "Didn't know if you'd want me to, that's all." He's only invulnerable in some ways; when she pulls him into another kiss, he starts breathing as hard as a normal -- human -- boy would. "Give and ye shall receive, you know? Take 'em off." She's used to gymnastics. This flying shtick is still new and exciting, not to mention convenient and conducive to midair shimmies. Kon tosses his jeans aside entirely too indiscriminately and follows them with his boxers -- and damn, but he's pretty. Also shameless. "What do you want me to do -- Oracle?" She can feel the evil in her smile even before she sees the corresponding gleam in his eyes. "If that's how you want to play it -- get me box 24." Also, while he's looking for it, she gets to watch him. "What's in the box?" he asks, pushing cartons aside with his pinky. "You'll see." "Is this some kinky Bat-thing?" Kon pushes another stack and picks up a box, giving her a nice show while he does it. He brings the box over to the bed and starts to open it. She slaps his hands away. "You'll find out." Kon blinks at her. "Sorry." Barbara sniffs. "You should be. Just think how dangerous unidentified substances can be and relax a little." She takes out the top layer of bubble wrap, sets it aside, and stops him just in time with a vehement, "Don't pop that." He sets it down and looks chagrined. "Sorry." "Kids today." She finds the little velvet-covered box and pulls it out. "You have a piercing, right?" Kon looks at the box quizzically. "For a second, I thought you were gonna propose." She raises an eyebrow at him. "Not like that, and answer the question." "Well, yeah. In my ear." Barbara smiles. "Excellent. Here --" she opens the box and offers him one of the earrings. "Put this in." "Um." He does it. The gold should look more odd against his skin, more rakish, but it doesn't. "Okay -- why?" "I'll tell you later." She tangles her fingers in his hair and pulls him into another kiss, then lets him go. "Did you see box #98 while you were sorting?" His eyes are a little glazed. "Um. Uh. -- yeah." He zips away at speed and comes back with it a moment later, sets it in front of himself, and kneels on the bed. This time he doesn't even try to open the box. She takes it from him and peels back the tape, then rummages through it slowly. "Let's see," she says musingly, pretending she doesn't know what she wants. "I could -- or -- hmmm." Kon bounces a little on his knees. "Do I get to make suggestions?" She gives him the most arch look she can muster when he's being so intensely cute. "You want to make suggestions to Oracle?" He bites his lip. "Um -- okay, I'll shut up." She pats his ass -- really quite a nice ass, as these things go. "Good choice." She already found the stuff she was looking for, but she pretends to rummage just a little more to make him wait before she pulls it out. "Okay, move the box." "You got it." It's gone before she can blink, and he's back again, kneeling on the bed and looking entirely too eager. "What next?" Barbara shakes her head; she's not used to calculating for instantaneous responses in bed. "Move over a second, I want my chair." He reaches for her and she gives him a quelling look. "I don't need help." "Right, right. Of course not." He gives her space and no lift at all. Having to deal with her own body again makes her feel more grounded and less surreal. She sets the brakes and pats the edge of the bed. "Right. C'mere." Kon scoots right up so he's sitting on the edge with his feet on the ground and leans forward to kiss her again. "This okay?" Whatever the mechanics of his invulnerability are, they don't stop her from biting his lip in the middle of the next kiss. "Mm. Spread your legs for me." He doesn't have to brace himself on anything but air to do it. It seems monumentally unfair -- but life's unfair, and at least she can play with him. "Like this?" "Bend one leg up -- like that, yeah." His thighs are tense and he shivers when she pets him. He's shivering in general, actually, probably because he's been hard for a while, but not because he's cold; he's still wearing his shirt. Barbara gets the lube she took out of the box and slicks her fingers up, then strokes him. "Thanks for all your help." He gapes at her a second, then groans. "No -- no problem." "'course the job's only half-done," she says, running her thumb over the head of his dick. "But maybe tomorrow you can come do the rest." Kon lets his head fall back. "Oh -- damn. If you'll have me." "I can always use another pair of hands." Another quick jerk, and she presses a finger inside him. It makes him brace himself -- not on the mattress, he's floating -- and push against her hand. "Oh fuck. Oh god, Oracle --" Her first instinct is to correct him, but she bites it back. "You can't just leave me hanging, anyway." She jerks him a little faster and he whimpers. "It's a matter of honor." "Unh -- I -- okay, please, please --" "Hard to be a hero if you don't honor your agreements." "Yeah. Oh yeah." Maybe he's responding to what she's saying. Hard to say. He's spreading his legs more, now, and it's only natural to push another finger into him and squeeze his dick. "Ohh." She laughs quietly. "Is it a date, then?" His hips are jerking raggedly. "Fuck yes, god yes, Oracle, I -- oh god yes, anything, don't stop -- anything you want -- I --" He thrusts into her hand again, hard, and comes all over his shirt. "Tsk. You're going to have to do laundry before you go home." She lets him go and pats his thigh. "Uh." He's lounging in midair again, maybe half-awake. She swats him hard to see if it has an effect, and he sits up and looks at himself. "Oh. Uh. Oops." He shrugs a little. "Good thing I'm fast, huh?" She raises an eyebrow. "I don't think that's anything to brag about." It makes him blush. It's entirely too cute. "I didn't -- I -- sorry." "You can redeem yourself tomorrow. Box #73 has the towels. Box #203 has backup wash-water. Go on." He floats off to find them, somewhat bedraggled, and does a super-quick search. "You sure you don't mind?" Barbara spreads her hands. "Be my guest." It doesn't take him long at all to get tidy enough to fly home, though whether familial eyes would see something wrong is another matter entirely. "Um. I should help, but --" he scratches the back of his neck. "I'm still kinda worn out." She shakes her head. "It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow." "Right. Tomorrow. Um." He floats closer -- maybe he wants to give her a goodbye kiss -- then backs off. "See you then." "Goodbye, Kon-El." He hesitates another second, and then he's gone. She opens up the other small box that was inside #24 and takes out the backup broadcast system, then clicks it on. "I'll see you at 5pm Eastern tomorrow," she says into it. It's only been two days since she checked the settings on that equipment, so she knows he hears her. "And I'll call you at 11pm your time tonight. Be in bed." The broadcast box goes into one pocket. There are still an amazing number of boxes to unpack, but at least she has something to look forward to later in the evening.
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