There Needs To Be More Stray!danny In My Life - Blog Posts

Kitten Kisses

DCxDP : Dead Tired, Stray!Danny Phantom, love square identity shenanigans (sort of)

Week 1: Indirect Kiss

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There is a security camera set up at Tim’s desk. 

It’s mostly to ensure that Tim actually leaves his desk, nowadays, but the genuine concern was something nobody really thought could qualify as a necessity. 

Tim is young, but it’s undeniable that he’s a genius. Sadly, that did not mean certain visitors or members of the board didn’t take his age as carte blanche to just rummage around in his desk for no reason. 

After the 5th time Tim noticed his things had been moved (they would have found nothing, Tim was very meticulous regarding Wayne Enterprises documents) something had to give. 

So. Security camera. 

After the first month of its implementation, nobody was fool enough to get caught over some useless files and a surprisingly thoroughly encrypted computer system. Nobody important, at least. 

Babs likes to hack into it, sometimes, to make sure Tim is home on time and not working late. Bruce sometimes hacks in just to check in, watch him work or eat because he was a creep, but Tim can hardly throw such large rocks from his glass house. For the most part, it’s more decoration than anything. 

Until tonight, that is. Tim gets a little ping! signaling movement at his WE desk. He’s just gotten home from patrol, mask already off and cape halfway unclipped with hastily ungloved hands.

Perplexed by the midnight alert, Tim pulls up the feed onto his set up at home. There’s hardly anything worth hacking into, considering the computer there is more of a remote in type of system, rather than an actual computer to be used like the one at the Nest.

And yet still. There they are. Tim would recognize that silhouette anywhere: Stray. 

He watches as, at first, only that skin tight black suit with white accents entered the screen, the rogue thief’s toned torso curved alluringly, signature white clawed gloves lightly scraping along the desk as he travels from one end to the other—not hard enough to leave any trace, but enough for the skrrrrch rasp out. 

There’s a tap of a claw, before the screen fills as Stray bends over, and gods, what a sight that is to see. Stray has an almost prehensile cat’s tail, and it swayed and curled over itself in a way that seemed hypnotic. Long glowing white hair that falls over his shoulder with two black tufted cat ears that seems to actually move, eyes barely visible behind bright neon green goggles—but most importantly a new addition: blood red lipstick. 

Tim stares as those red, red lips curve into a smile, whispering a soft “Hey, Red. Miss me?”

Tim can feel his pulse jump, because he did. He really did. 

They’ve been dancing around each other, ever since the vigilante figured out Stray’s M.O. 

The rogue was only stealing paranormal artifacts, or objects that were stolen via grave robbing. None of the other Bats had figured it out until Tim had told them, considering Stray’s first few hits were on a handful of Rich People. The items were so scattered, and had nothing of real importance that could connect them. 

But the Rich were angry, and though that was hardly anything to be alerted by, it made for an ornery work environment. The Bats hadn’t stepped up, hadn’t felt the need to, until certain museums were getting hit too. A couple civilians even, here or there, until finally something was stolen from Batman himself—something they had kept at Wayne Enterprises to be handed over to Constantine for analysis.

Selina was no help either, simply stating that every cat’s got to have their secrets—all but confirming that the new rogue on the scene was Selina’s. 

Red Robin had cornered Stray, or rather, Stray had let him, and they almost—there was a moment…But then Catwoman had come, urgent, saying something about a sister. 

And then Stray hadn’t been seen in weeks.

Tim shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts from the fog those cherry red lips cast over him. Still, he can’t help but say yes. Even if only in his mind. 

“I missed you, dolled myself up and everything,” those sinful red lips do a little pout as a delicate claw twirls a strand of that silky hair, conjuring up so many images that Tim involuntarily stands up, as if to immediately leave. “Doesn’t red look so good on me?”

Fuck, but it does. And then it clicks. Hastily, Tim taps a couple buttons, reclipping his cape and putting his mask back on. Once his gloves are back on he pulls up the feed onto his phone, grappling his way over to his office as if being chased.

Because if Stray was at Tim Wayne’s desk, calling him Red through the feed, that meant—that meant he knew.

“Sadly, I can’t stay.” Red Robin vaults out the Nest, keeping half an eye on the feed as those pouty lips talk to him, watching as Stray perches himself delicately on the desk. There’s a sly smile now, though Tim can’t help but follow the long lines of the rogue’s body instead, with his legs crossed, leaning on one delicately clawed hand, head tilted coquettishly.

“But I’ve got a present for you, loverboy.” Red is almost there, just a couple blocks away, as Stray pulls out what looked like a business card with the hand he isn’t leaning on, bringing it up to those distracting red lips. 

“I heard you like games!” Stray bares his teeth in a fanged smile, “Find me, and it’s a date.”

Red Robin is on the WE building now, scaling down to break into the usual window, silently prowling his way quickly through the halls. He watches as Stray winks, giving the card a little kiss. When he grins Red could see the rouge was smeared a little, and somehow that made it so much more enticing. Stray places the card back on the desk before smoothly getting up and exiting stage left just as the vigilante skids to an arrival in front of his office door. 

He burst into the office, only to find it empty. He immediately went to the nearest window, trying to spot the rogue, but as always Stray is quick to disappear without a trace. RR suspects that Stray is some kind of meta, but hasn't gathered enough evidence yet. 

Out of leads, he swiftly makes his way to his desk, where the business card lay innocently, face down. On the back of it, a tantalizing red lip mark. 

Red picks it up, turning it over to see a time and place typed onto it—an invitation, then, not a business card at all. He stares for a second, feeling a smile grow on his face, before he flips the card over again to stare at the kiss mark. 

He brings the card to his lips, softly kissing it, eyes closed and content. He can almost feel the warmth left over, feel a hand caress his neck along his spine. Soon. 

He tucks the card into one of the pockets on his belt, feeling excited and suddenly rejuvenated. 

Maybe he could do another loop—maybe a couple, he doesn’t care—before getting back to the Nest to research. 

He has a date to score, and research is so much easier when he doesn’t have to deal with euphoria.