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DC: Keeping Busy / Foreign Languages / Handle with Care
morethansky wrote in amphhh
Keeping Busy by kleine_aster [Bruce/Clark]
I asked for fic prompts, and a kind anon gave me this – "I think Superbat cute-old-retired-couple fluff would be sweet. Could be a date, day in the life, pillow talk, something like that. They still keep in touch with their teams/families, but it's just them having some time alone together."

"You're good to me," he whispers, eyelids fluttering on half-mast. His entire body is softening, except for that sweet, familiar feeling of tightness in his loins.

Bruce accepts the compliment as he always does, by saying nothing. But then, he interrupts the massage to scratch his ears.

"You're good for me," he grumbles.

Foreign Languages by FabulaRasa [Dinah/Oliver, Clark/Bruce, Dick/Jason]
What exactly happens to your life, when you become Batman's therapist?

Sometimes it made her bones shake, how much she loved him. He caught her shudder and misinterpreted it as an aftershock, so he brought his hand to her cunt and pressed hard, as hard as he could, the way she liked during aftershocks. No one had ever made her come like Oliver, no one made her chest writhe and collapse like Oliver. Was it like this for everyone? That was one of the things she had never been able to figure out, in all her years of practicing psychology. She had always wanted to know. At first she had thought it was, that love was kind of the same for everyone, to one degree or another, but she was old enough now to know what kind of hand the universe had dealt her when Oliver Queen had walked into the room and given her a quick assessing glance, and just how damn lucky she was.

Handle with Care by takadainmate [Gen]
Dick is sick. Alfred isn't around. Bruce and Damian do their best.

“Bruce.” Grayson watched Father nervously from where he sat at the kitchen table, hunched over and wrapped in an old afghan. Damian sat beside him, grateful to be finally wearing dry boots. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Making tea,” Father said. He had a tea bag in one hand and an empty kettle in the other and was eyeing both like they might fight back should he look away. “It can’t be that hard.”

In truth, Damian had to agree with Grayson’s reticence; Batman might be a great detective but a great kitchen user he was not. Damian wasn’t certain he’d ever seen his father even so much as in the kitchen before.

Grayson sighed and laid his head on his folded arms wearily. “You’ll save us, won’t you Damian?” he asked. “If Bruce starts a fire.”

“I will,” Damian nodded. The way Grayson grinned at him, conspiratorial and satisfied, was well worth the glare his father shot them both.