Barbara Gordon (babsgordon_) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-05-09 20:17:00 |
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Pike was loving this. He knew he should be rational and realistic, but he was intent on making use of this as much as possible. He wasn't sure how how Babs' would react, but he wanted to share this to her. Part of his brain said this might not be a good idea, but he had to try. Especially since he'd gone shopping and was dressed in jeans that that fit his twenty year old body like a glove along with a close fitting tshirt and a leather jacket. Knocking on the door, he waited for Babs. Barbara hadn't been sleeping well, not since Saturday morning. She was aware of course of what was going on, this strange aging up or aging down that was happening to various refugees. She hadn't really admitted to anyone that it had happened to her, too, because she felt foolish about the sudden hope and longing that flooded her chest and made her feel, for the first time in a long time, whole again. After all, she had aged down, just by a few years, but being back in her 20s meant she was pre-shooting. And being pre-shooting meant that she could walk. Which accounted for the difficulty sleeping. She wasn't used to the restlessness, the movement under the covers, the tossing and turning -- all things that didn't happen much anymore. But now they were back. She spent much of Saturday in her room, in yoga positions or stretches or weight training that she hadn't done in years. That morning, she spent walking all over Manhattan. It had been a beautiful day, and the walking exhausted her more than she realized it would, but it was well worth it. What else was worth it was the shape her body was in. She had returned to the time of the height of her career as Batgirl, and looking at her, one could tell. Regardless, she was worried about the next morning, when she had to go to work. It wasn't that she was embarrassed -- after all it was happening to a lot of them -- but it couldn't be permanent, could it? She didn't want to hope for that, but she hadn't moved past the point of waiting to crumple back to the ground, unable to walk again. Surprised to get a knock on the door, Barbara glanced at her wheelchair, considered sitting in it, but then answered the door on her feet anyway. Christopher was leaning against the door, looking for all the world like he did during his academy days, hair tossled and face lightly windburned from Sunday's long motorcycle ride. Babs hadn't responded to his journal post and he was a bit worried that she'd gotten into a fit or depressive state because he could walk again. But then the door opened and- "Hi," Christopher said, a smile spreading across his face. There she was, gorgeous as always, standing on two feet and he found himself wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a hard kiss. "Have you been hiding?" Barbara should have expected to see Chris, but he still surprised her, especially when he reached for her to kiss her. That was unexpected, to say the least, given the rockyness of their relationship the last few weeks. She kissed him back and then pulled away, looking at him. He looked so … young, though she supposed she might look young to him, too. "No, not -- really." It was a lie, but she wasn't going to admit to it. "What are you doing here?" she asked, stepping away from him. Christopher raised an eyebrow, running his thumb over her cheek. Okay, this wasn't the reaction he was expecting, but then Babs was unpredictable. "Do I need an excuse? I came to see how you were doing. Brought cupcakes," he said said, his eyebrow still raised and making him seem older than his looks. "I'm fine," she said, "as you can probably see. Do you want something to drink?" Barbara closed the door behind him and made her way toward the kitchen. She was still having trouble with everything, mentally, and she didn't know how to describe it or explain it. His excitement seemed obvious, and she didn't want to bring him down, so she did what she did best: kept herself busy. "Have you done anything exciting since Saturday morning?" The eyebrow stayed raised as he followed Babs into the kitchen. "Went for a run, motorcycle ride, and horseback riding. Nothing too adventurous," he teased playfully. "Beer if you have it." He leaned against the counter - ever since waking up like this he hadn't been too fond of sitting. "Hadn't heard from you in a few days. Wanted to make sure you didn't turn into a six year old and need some help," Pike said. She laughed a bit. "Well, now wouldn't that have been awkward," she said carefully, turning to smile a bit at him. "I walked. Circled all of Manhattan, even crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. It took all day but it was -- incredible." She reached into the fridge to produce for them two bottles of beer, and opened each on the edge of the counter just because she could. "I don't think I've had that much physical exercise in years, at least obviously not in the same way. Invigorating, even, for want of a better, less annoying adjective." She handed him his beer. He took a swig of his beer before giving Babs a teasing look that would have been more at home on some Academy flirt than on him. "I can think of a few more invigorating activities," Christopher teased with a bit of a leer. "Unless you have a thing for grey hair and this doesn't do it for you." Barbara leaned back against the counter and took a slow swallow of beer, looking at him. It was true that she tended to prefer older men, that salt-and-pepper, grayed hair, but that didn't mean she didn't find Chris attractive just because he looked younger. Hell, she looked younger too, all things considered. "Oh really? And just what might those be, Captain Pike?" she asked, flirtatiously herself, even though she had a fairly good idea exactly what he was talking about. The problem was -- she thought this could be a problem in the future. She just didn't want to say so out loud. "Making the most out of the current situation, Barbara," he said, closing the distance between him. "So, we could go for a run, horseback riding, or I could take you on a motorcycle ride." He set the beer down on the counter as he leaned in, brushing his lips against her ear. "Or I could take you up against the counter for once." Her breath caught somewhere in her throat and she shivered, visibly, and looked at him. "That's a pretty tough decision to make, Chris," she said softly, setting a hand against his chest gently. "We should probably do something to take advantage of the beautiful day and go for a ride or -- something," she said. "But I won't object to that third option either." If she were being honest, she would admit that she'd already thought about it -- a lot -- but with the difficult nature of their relationship and the implications of what this could mean in the long run, well, she hadn't let herself dwell on it. And she certainly wasn't about to bring it up. Yet here he was, teasing her, flirting, insinuating those things. Isn't this what she wanted? Him to be himself with her? Like this? But, she thought, was this really him being himself? No, it wasn't -- and she wasn't herself, not really -- Fuck, she thought, just stop thinking, Barbara. So she did, and she kissed him instead. Now this was familiar. Christopher threaded a hand through her hair as he deepened the kiss, his teeth tugging at her lower lip. "Well, we could do one and then the other," he said, one hand sliding down over her hip, brushing against her thigh. "I'll let you pick what to do first though." Barbara couldn't hold in the moan at his touch on her thigh. It was such an old familiar feeling, though not one she could associate with him. She nodded and matched the kiss, knocking her beer over as she tried to set it down on the counter, but she didn't bother pulling away to clean it up. The spill seemed to be spilling away from them, anyway, so what did it matter at that moment? She needed to not think about the future and just enjoy this, now. "This," she said, moving her hands to the hem of his t-shirt and pushing them up inside. "Definitely this." Christopher pulled back for a moment, to pull his leather jacket off and toss it away from the spilled beer before sliding his hands over Barbara's ass and picking her up, wrapping her legs around his hips. This body was marvelous, to be able to do this - while standing - he had no desire to give this up anytime soon. "As you wish," he said, his mouth returning to her neck as he backed her towards the counter, hands roaming her body. He'd missed this, the last month and well, much longer since he'd had use of his legs. Barbara eagerly took part, hooking her ankles at the back of his thighs and threading one hand into his hair, the other exploring his sides, his lower back, his ass, the backs of his thighs, around to his hips and up his chest. She leaned her head to the side and shifted to get as comfortable as one could ever get halfway up on a kitchen counter top yet wrapped around someone else. She turned to find his mouth and kissed him again, hotly, as though she was worried this would end too quickly before they could really enjoy it. Christopher's body apparently seemed to have the reaction time of a twenty year old and he only hoped he had more endurance. This would be fairly awkward if it was over rather quickly. His body was ready to go and he settled her a bit more on top of the counter as he ran his hands under her shirt, tucking his head down to suck at a breast. "Gods, Barbara.. missed this so much.." "Me, too," she agreed, arching up to meet his mouth. She reached down his back to pull his t-shirt off, then rubbed his shoulders for only a moment before moving on away from his neck and shoulders, remembering his hesitancy about those places before. The memories would still be there, even if the scars weren't. She loved the fact that she could move her legs, squeeze her thighs over his and tug him closer against her. He groaned as he leaned in - with his body like this he could almost forget about the scars and the mental trauma that he was burying in a far corner of his mind. He'd stopped taking his meds, enjoying the feel of this new body and not wanting anything to interrupt it. He knew he'd have problems when or if this ended, but for now he was enjoying seizing the moment and being selfish. He ran his hands over Barbara's back, undoing the bra easily enough before kissing his way up her neck and pressing his hips against hers. "Fuck.." Barbara moved easily against him, none of their earlier hesitancies remaining. She had forgotten how much easier this all was, when there were no disabilities in the way. She hated that the thought even entered her mind, but it went out just as quickly as they enjoyed each other immensely on the counter, in ways that weren't possible just a few days before. (Weeks, if she counted the last time they slept together.) When they'd finished (it had been fast, hard, and quite a bit sweaty), she suggested they take a shower. It had been one of her indulgences these recent days since being able to walk again, and sharing a hot one with him was definitely something to enjoy. After their shower, Babs turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel to wrap around herself and catching a glimpse of the two of them in the foggy mirror. She sucked in a tight breath. Pike followed her out of the shower, grateful not to have to use that idiotic handicapped chair in it, and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his hips. "You all right?" he asked, kissing her cheek and running a hand over her back before coming to rest on her ass and squeezing lightly. Barbara tensed even as he touched her and felt all the blood drain from her face and she had to look away from the mirror and squeeze her eyes shut. She found it difficult to breathe all of a sudden, and she couldn't quite place the panic and anxiety that settled in the pit of her stomach and worked its way out over her entire body. She had to grip the counter for support as she sucked air in, trying to breathe again. She couldn't find the words to answer him because, for too long of a moment, no, she wasn't all right at all. The last time she had seen herself like this -- fresh out of the shower, hair wet and down her back, wrapped in a towel, fogged up in the mirror -- it had been minutes before the knock came at the door that changed her life forward. She tried to calm herself, but it wasn't working. Christopher snapped into command mode, shifting easily into one of the fleet's most decorated officers, one who always put his crew first. "Babs, Barbara, look at me," he said, turning her away from the mirror and crouching slightly to make eye contact with her. "Barbara, talk to me. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe. Just breathe. Can you take a deep breath for me?" She heard him, and she nodded, barely, clutching the towel against her chest and heaving in for a breath. "Sorry," she managed to get out, though it sounded more like the right word in her mind than it did coming out of her mouth. Her grip tightened on her towel and she moved to sit on the floor, leaning her head back against the counter and working to steady her breathing. This time, when she apologized, it sounded a little better. "Hey now, no need to apologize," he said as he slid to the floor opposite her, his knees touching hers as he cupped her face, running his thumb gently over her cheek. "Just take a few more deep breaths. In- hold, two, three, out. There you go," he said, his voice gentleness and worry. He wasn't sure what had set Barbara off, but he knew a panic attack when he saw one, considering how familiar he was with them himself. It took her another long moment before she opened her eyes and looked at him. Her eyes felt too dry, and she rubbed them with the heels of her hands and nodded a few times, breathing as he was telling her how to breath. "Thank - you -" she managed quickly, her breathing finally calming enough that she didn't feel as though her chest was so tight she would never be able to breathe again. "I -- haven't had that happen in years," she admitted. "Anytime," Christopher said, still looking at with worry in his face. He reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Happens to all of us sometimes," he reassured her, running his hands over her arms. "How are you feeling now?" She shivered a bit again but nodded. "Better, now," Barbara said. "I think maybe I need to avoid the shower -- for the time being." She didn't want to talk about it, but she would if he asked. She just didn't see the point of bringing it all up when it had felt so fresh inside of her like that. "How long do you think this is going to last?" Christopher nodded, understanding how some things triggered random events and attacks. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, reaching up and pulling another towel off the rack and wrapping it around her shoulders. He sighed. "No idea. No idea what's causing it. I'm trying not to think about that and just enjoy the moment in the meantime. It's selfish of me, I know, but well, the chance to run and ride like i used to, and you now, the kitchen counter, completely worth it." "But it could all be over in an instant again, and then what? We had this great run of hope and -- normalcy -- for what?" Barbara cut herself off and apologized again. She didn't want to feel sorry for herself. She wanted to enjoy this. The walking without pain. The feeling in her legs. The feelings that returned when they'd -- enjoyed -- the kitchen counter. But it did feel selfish of her. Well, not selfish, per se, but selfish in the fact that she was admitting that she wanted this life for herself more than she wanted the life she was living. The pain of regret would just get stronger and harder after this.'' She shook her head. "Just -- an unwanted memory," was all she said at first. She closed her eyes again, the images from the memory flashing through her mind. "The last time I stood in front of a mirror like that was about five minutes before he shot me." "Then we go back to living life in a wheelchair. This doesn't change things. The way I see it, what do I want to make sure I do while I have use of my legs - that's what I'm going to do now. And when it's over, it's over, and we move on. We keep going, like we always do. We're survivors and this doesn't change that," Christopher said, raising a challenging eyebrow at her. He knew it wouldn't be that easy, but it was his duty, his method to reassure others, even when he didn't completely believe it. "But you didn't have a handsome man besides you that time," he teased with a smile. "He can't shoot you again though. He shot you and you kept going, like the amazing resilient woman you are." He was right, and it was all well and good to say that now, but it wouldn't be that easy later, if things went back to how they were. She knew that, too, from her experience with her neural piece, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she nodded and brought her hand up to his jaw, rubbing her thumb over his mouth, then leaned in and kissed him. "I know he can't shoot me again, here. I do know that. It doesn't make it easier." "I know," Christopher whispered, pulling her into his lap and kissing her slow and tender. "So, what do you say about going to take advantage of the nice weather? Horseback riding or motorcycle ride?" She curled herself into and around him and breathed him in for a moment, then registered his question. "The motorcycle," she said. "That's one of the things I miss the most. I miss my bike. Where are we going to get one and do you care if I drive?" Christopher shifted slightly on the floor and groaned into her hair. "I most definitely do not mind," he said, his voice a bit husky. "The Harley dealership and a few other places rent them." Barbara managed a smile. "I miss my bike," she admitted, pressing her mouth against his jaw. "So a motorcycle ride sounds fantastic. We can even get out of the city for a while, hmn?" "I know. But we have to make do with what we have here," Chris said with a smile. "But I'll let you drive. Getting out of the city sounds brilliant. Though I think you need to put on something besides a towel." She swatted at him and disentangled herself enough to stand up, keeping her back to the mirror. "A lot of my clothes were too baggy on me. Isn't that such a nice problem to have?" she asked, as she moved away from him and ducked out of the bathroom. She had picked up just a few things while out walking. Namely, a pair of skinny jeans that she could never manage to wear otherwise. "But I bought heels. Great ones. They remind me of a pair I used to wear all the time. I suppose even if this all ends, I can still wear them," she was saying over her shoulder as she dressed quickly. "But they don't have the same effect if I'm sitting down." After her jeans and a halter, Barbara pulled on a lightweight jacket and sat on the edge of the bed to strap on her new black spike heels. He chuckled as he finished toweling off, hung up the towel and pulled on his jeans again before going to the kitchen to fetch his tshirt and boots. He picked up the jacket, throwing it over his shoulder as he went back to the bedroom and simply enjoyed the view. "With your legs, you can certainly pull them off," Christopher said with a smirk and a bit of leer. "Sure you can drive a bike in those?" Barbara gave him a look. "I've been doing it since I was 18," she told him. "I'm sure it's like riding a bicycle or getting back into bed after a long period of celibacy -- very easy to pick up again." She walked over to him and ran her hand along his chest and around the back of his neck. "Do you trust me?" "I trust you driving, it's the heels I worry about," he teased before raising an eyebrow. "I do trust you, Barbara. Shall we go find ourselves a bike?" "I promise that I'm very good in heels. It's just been a few years, that's all." She leaned over to kiss him again, lingering, pretending for the here and now that this was easy and everything was normal and they wouldn't have any major problems. She wanted to believe that. "I believe it. You're good at a whole lot of things," Christopher said, growling into the kiss before grabbing his leather jacket and pulling it on. "How do you feel about walking down six flights of stairs?" A beat and then Barbara smiled. "That sounds like a great idea," she said, tying her jacket at the waist and slipping her wallet into her back pocket. She started for the door. Christopher grinned before following her out the door and down six flights of stairs. Most people didn't enjoy walking stairs, but right now Chridtopher relished them. Once on the street, Chris led the way towards a motorcycle rental shop a few blocks away. "So, what kind of bike you thinking? A crotch-rocket or more a hog?" "I don't have a preference, really. I had a custom-made bike when I was using it regularly, and it had more gadgets and customizations than anything we'll be able to get here. Just something big and powerful between my legs, I guess," she said, glancing at him with a grin at the insinuation. After only a moment's hesitation, she reached out to grab hold of his hand, lacing their fingers. Chris chuckled and squeezed her hand. "Thought you already got that in the kitchen," he teased with a smirk, leaning over and brushing his lips against her cheek. He knew he was sailing hopelessly into denial right now, but he didn't care. He needed this - not to worry about was was coming, just to be care free for as long as possible. "I vote for something fast," he said with the grin of a boy who loved speed and adrenaline rushes. Ignoring his attempt at getting her to puff up his ego -- not that it needed much inflating -- she agreed. "Fast is what I do best," she pointed out as they rounded the corner and walked into the rental building. "And black. It needs to be black." "Picky, picky," he said, holding the door open for her. "And here I pegged you as the neon pink type," he teased as he walked in and ran his hand lovingly over one of the bikes. It was the simple pleasures, walking around, knowing he could drive a bike, knowing he could have sex with his girlfriend like a normal man, that put the permanent smile on his face. "This is the one I took out yesterday." Barbara walked up to it and slide her hand over the handlebars and down, squatting to take a good look at the wheels, then stood and moved her hand slowly along the seat to the back. "You sure you don't mind riding behind me while I drive?" she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Because this is a great choice. We should rent out this one and get out of the city fast." "I can handle riding bitch," he teased, trailing his fingers along her leg as she sat on the bike. "I'm secure enough in my masculinity." He leaned in to steal a quick kiss before heading over to find a salesperson and arranging for the bike rental. Once the paperwork was taken care of, he came back and handed her the keys and a helmet. "What do you say we hit the road?" Barbara laughed and pulled her hair off the back of her neck as she slid the helmet on and adjusted the mirrors and got settled. She stuck the keys in the ignition and patted the seat behind her, motioning to him. "I'm ready when you are." |