#but also where's that old clip of quinn dropping his gloves the second someone landed a hit on jack I need it for purposes

[alpineshift]

Could you do prompt 13 that’s somehow connected to the werewolf au where Nico discovers that Jack is courting him? (P.S. Quinn’s reaction to jack courting Nico without telling him was so funny. His exasperation at the situation was so perfect)

yess! LOL I promise I love Quinn I just also happen to love putting him in the most SituationTM ever. here's the werewolf!Jack au!

13. "You want me, don't you?"

Ever since his conversation with Quinn, Nico's world may have shifted a little bit.

Well. Shifted a lot. Like, slide to the left, take it back now y'all, cha-cha real smooth kind of shifted.

The fact that Jack outright lied to him--Nico had been hurt at first, then humiliated, but then he sat with it for a day longer and the feelings almost dissipated instantly.

From what Quinn described and explained, it seems like Jack's harbouring feelings, and he simply can't bring himself to act on it, even if his wolf appears to have no reservations. Nico can relate, considering he's had the biggest crush on Jack for the longest time--and convinced himself that it couldn't possibly work out.

So that brings him to the second major shift in his recent understanding of the world--Jack likes him. Jack likes him back. Jack has been actively courting him in wolf form. Jack likes him back.

(Everybody clap your hands!)

Nico chews on this for another two days before he finally breaks, calling Quinn up for help, internally cringing with mental apologies for the awkwardness that is bound to follow.

He's right. The minute Quinn picks up on FaceTime, the two of them stare at each other through the screen with haunted expressions, both innately aware of what this conversation is going to be about.

"I gotta hand it to you," Quinn finally says. "I kinda expected to get this call sooner."

"I really wish I weren't making it," Nico offers. "I just--I don't want to do the wrong thing. We've already figured out I'm shit at understanding wolf culture. Can you just--help? Give me a run down?"

Quinn is helpful, which Nico is eternally grateful for, even if he also has to sit through a wolf version of the shovel talk. And it's kind of wild how the wolf shows through so easily; Quinn's voice gets raspier, his eyes sharper and brighter as he talks about Jack.

"One more thing," Quinn adds, uncharacteristically solemn. "Don't go through with this if you aren't serious about Jack, Nico. Wolves don't fuck around when it comes to courting. I need you to know that."

"I know," Nico replies with full sincerity. "I would never do that to him."

"Great," Quinn says, suddenly more cheerful. " 'Cause if you mess with my kid brother I'll tear you in half, Hischier. See you in the offseason." And he hangs up in Nico's face.

So the next time it's the full moon, Nico's ready. He's awake when Jack slips into his room in his enormous wolf form, absolutely killing the bed with his extra weight, and goes through the whole routine of licking all over Nico's face and neck before flopping over him. Nico wraps his arms around Jack, rubs sleepily at his ears, and whispers, "Stay with me in the morning, bud."

And obviously Jack does not do that. Nico wakes just as Jack's lifting himself off his chest, back in human form, clearly ready to steal Nico's pants and make a hasty escape. He moves fast, twisting to wrap his arms around Jack's middle, then rolls over and pins them both to the bed with all his body weight, making Jack yelp, then wheeze.

" 'schao, what the fuck, you're squashing me--"

"You want me, don't you?" Nico asks quietly, and feels Jack freeze beneath him. "You want me, but you were going to sneak away like you do every other time, and leave me behind, weren't you?"

"Nico," Jack says, his voice sharp and panicked, and Nico squeezes him tighter, hiding his face in the sensitive spot at the back of Jack's neck. Jack's whole body locks up, fingers digging into the sheets.

"Don't go," Nico whispers, pressing his cheek against the spot, then his forehead, and then his lips. He can feel Jack's shocked exhale, then his hand fumbling down to clutch at Nico's, practically hearing the gears click into place as understanding dawns. Nico threads their fingers together, clinging on. "Stay here. Stay with me. Please don't leave anymore."

[djinmer4]

Millions and Billions (Amalgam!verse)

Takes place seven years before ‘Beware the Creeper’ but after ‘Origins’.

It was a good start, but not enough.  His article on the capture of Sly Tolliver and several high placed Sullivan family members had been good, but it wasn’t going to make his career for him.  It wasn’t high profile enough, not to mention most of his recordings and footage had been confiscated by the police.  He needed another lucky break, but the only thing in the underground grapevine recently was the death of old mob boss King Barlow.  Barlow had never been successfully charged for his crimes, but that had been decades ago, and he wasn’t like Whitey Bulger, with a lurid escape story, Barlow had never left town.  If anyone wanted to find him, they had known exactly where he was.

“Didja hear what just happened?”

“Old King Barlow just died- and left the Hyena millions!”

Now that was worth paying attention to.  “Vera, my sweet, what’s this about?”

“Cute, like I hadn’t heard that pun a million times already.  I take it you heard about Old King Barlow dying?”  Kurt nodded his head.  “Well the executor opened the will, and it looks like he left his estate to the Hyena!”

“Really?”

“Really.  The Hyena showed up at the court house and the will was upheld.  The editor wants someone to go and interview him.  You couldn’t pay me a million dollars to do that.”  His rival turned to look at him, but Kurt was already collecting his hat and trench coat.

“I’m not passing in anything for tonight’s issue, sweet Vera.  But look for me come morning and I’ll be . . . tickled green.”

“That’s not the way that phrase works, you kraut.”  Kurt ignored the insult and continued on his way.  He had a maniac to interview and an article to write!

The interview (Iceberg Lounge, of course) had been such a success, he and the recordings had actually featured on the evening news.  Two good scoops in a row, one more and the editor had been hinting that they would take him on a regular basis.  He’d probably still have to freelance (journalist salaries being what they were), but this was definitely a step in the right direction.

But . . . something just didn’t settle right with him about that story.  Not on the Hyena’s part (Creed H. Quinn, he’d have to remember that name), but something about Barlow.  Now of course, Barlow had never been successfully charged; it could also be assumed that no one had ever done a complete audit of his assets.  Sure he had paid taxes on what his declared income was, but could he really have managed to acquire the billions the will stated he had?  There were no major investments made on his part since his retirement, and the man had lingered in the hospital for over a year; that must have eaten into his capital.

So assume the Hyena had less money than he thought.  Clearly some of it had to be real, because the guy had hired a lawyer and was now holding up the courts with rounds and rounds of appeals while he was out on bail.  (How did that happen anyway?)  The man, while capable of planning, wasn’t known for having the best impulse control or making budgets.  How long before he ran through the dough?  And what would he do when that happened?

Kurt raised one hand to tap lightly on the thin cotton patch on his bicep.  Then he lowered it again without doing anything.  Not tonight anyway.  He needed some sleep for what he was doing tomorrow.  But the night after and maybe after that he could spend some time investigating.  He would need to work out a schedule for this.

“Guten abend, Dunkel Klaue.  Quis custodiet ipsa insona?”

Dark Claw turned to look at the speaker, but did a double take when he couldn’t see anyone there.  “Ryder?” he tentatively asked the air.

“The one and only!”

“Where are you?”

“Right here.”  From what appeared to be an empty, shadowed corner a green arm, with a red glove waved out.  Walking over, he finally saw the boots, the other glove, but not the boa.  Also a pair of dark eyes, but only after squinting for a few minutes.   “Are you  . . . invisible?

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?”

“Are you naked?”

A low giggle emanated from nowhere.  “I’m invisible, not my clothes.  It’s not like it would work otherwise.”

He wasn’t going to think about that.  “Have you been stalking me?”

“Of course not, I’ve been stalking the Hyena.  You were just an unexpected bonus, Mr. Bachelor of the Year.”  With that, Dark Claw froze.  He wasn’t worried about blackmail, but Ryder was a reporter.

“Relax, relax.  I’ve known about this for months now.  The story wouldn’t be worth it.”  A flash of way too sharp fangs in the dark (what had been in that vat?).  “It’s much more interesting to just follow you around and report on all the villains you beat up.  Why if I wasn’t so concerned with other things, I could make my career entirely on your vigilantism.”  That wasn’t reassuring.  But Ryder hadn’t done anything yet so Dark Claw wouldn’t do more than threaten the man.  Later, when he wasn’t so rattled.

“So why are you following the Hyena?  Don’t think the man’s gone straight?”

“A crab may change his home, but a leopard won’t change his spots.  And with the way he’s spending cash like vasser, I’m looking to see what he’ll do when it runs out.”  A whisper of invisible flesh moving against brick.  “I take it you’re here for the same reason?”

Dark Claw grunted.  “Creed coulda gone straight any time over the past few decades.  He’s been poor, he’s been rich, he’s been shown compassion and hit with the worst of his crimes.  Nothing’s changed him so far.”

"Hmm, a good point.  Perhaps you’d like to see one of mine?”

The vigilante gave a wary glance at the supposedly empty corner.  From no where came a red-gloved hand, holding a gold ingot.  “Do I want to know where you were hiding this?”  Smothered laughter is all he got in return.  Carefully examining the bar, he realized something was off about the weight.  It was too light.  He scraped the side, which revealed dull grey metal under a thin coating of gold.  “Gold-plated lead?” he guessed.

“And that’s not all behind door number three!”  In rapid succession the empty corner produced a stack of cash (counterfeit, obvious counterfeit with the Hyena’s symbol printed on them) and a fine painting (too fine, another fake of something Dark Claw had seen in a museum).

“How’d you get all of these?”

“Quinn was arrogant enough to let some paparazzi take photo of the vault.  It was simply a matter of teleporting and landing on the ceiling.”  Dark Claw wanted to ask about the smell, which was one of the few things that could give Nightcreeper away, but the man went on a tangent on what he saw in the vault.  Still, he settled back to make himself more comfortable while listening to his companion’s blather.

The Logan Wayne persona had more than enough money to be comfortable for decades, so it’s not like Creed’s little fortune was actually an inconvenience to him.  But knowing that it was going to run out and sooner than his nemesis would expect was worth listening to his informant’s non-stop chatter for a while.

It took longer than either of them had expected, but the Hyena did run out, right about the time the IRS came knocking.  Nightcreeper sent of a quick signal to Dark Claw (via a one-way transmitter the other had given him), then deliberately landed on the armored car that the Hyena had hijacked.  The sudden appearance of the demon-faced man caused the villain to steer straight into a wall.

The Hyena climbed out of the ruined vehicle, picking up one of his unconscious henchmen’s automatics.  Crazy, but not a complete fool, he knew the only way he’d get away with it was if there were no witnesses.  Not hesitating at all, he opened fire on the green maniac in front of him.

“Hahahaha! Ooh, that tickles!”  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”  He loaded a second clip and fired again, to know avail.  The lunatic kept advancing.  From behind, one of the goons got up and took a swing at him, only to be knocked out by- was that a tail?

“There’s more wrong here than I thought.  Who are you?”

“They call me . . . green-furred wacky man!  But I prefer Nightcreeper.”  A flash of fangs, a bang of smoke, and an arm like an iron bar was up against the Hyena’s throat, bending his back to a painful angle and pulling him into a headlock.  The criminal struggled, dropping the gun to claw desperately at the imprisoning limb.  Before everything went black he saw the black-clothed Dark Claw, with his peacock-clad assistant step into the alleyway he had crashed in.

“Thanks for the call,” said Dark Claw, firmly pressing a small patch to the other man’s bicep.  Due to the difference in heights, the hero was annoyed to find he had to reach up to apply the counter-agent.

“It was no trouble at all.”  Kurt Ryder watched as the green fur shed then seemed to disappear.  He still wanted to know where it came from and where it went, but no answers would be coming tonight.  “Thanks for bringing my clothes.”  He flashed a smile at Lark that was still too wide and fangy for the apprentice to be comfortable with.

“Yeah.”  The superhero watched as the other quickly discarded boa, gloves and boots to put on his suit.  “Look Ryder, before you go out there?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to be doing this regularly?  I’m not going to argue about danger or anything, you’re a smart man.  But was this a one-off, or should we be on the look-out for you?”

Ryder fixed his tie, then raised his hand to neaten his rapidly darkening hair.  “You know what, I think I will be doing this in the future.  It’s a concrete way to help people, I can use what I learn to further my career, and being Nightcreeper is oddly liberating in a way.”  He flashed another mega-watt smile at the shorter man.  “Not all the time maybe, but perhaps a regular schedule.”

Dark Claw sighed.  The man actually was fairly competent, but he didn’t think he could take doing another stakeout with the talkative loon.  But if he was willing to help . . . “Here,” he said, handing him a new, permanent two-way communicator.  “If you ever have find that you need our help or need something official, use this.”

Dark Claw had plans to organize New Gotham’s vigilantes into a cohesive force.  This would be the first step.