Babes In Royland
by Te
October 5, 2006

Disclaimers: No one and nothing here is mine.

Spoilers: The fact that the Outsiders exist.

Summary: It's a good night.

Ratings Note: Mostly harmless.

Author's Note/Acknowledgments: Betty requested a snippet
based on this icon, and then audienced for the closest I
could get to it. Yay, Betty!


This kind of thing just doesn't happen enough, as far as
Roy's concerned.

Armed robberies? Sure. Armed robberies that lead to the
target's merchandise being scattered six ways from Sunday?
All the time.

However, there's such a thing as context in this fine, wide
world, and when that context involves a sex toy store
catering primarily to lesbians...

The world is very fine indeed.

They're heroes, after all, and heroism *isn't* all about taking
down the bad guys and rescuing the little people -- not all
the time, anyway. Sometimes -- like say, just as an example,
when you're in a sex toy store pre-equipped with a couple of
lesbians -- heroism is all about helping with the aftermath.

And if that excuse doesn't work -- PR.

And then some.

Being as how Anissa is working out to be one hell of a
teammate -- Grace's bad influence notwithstanding -- Roy's
pretty sure he's gotten most of this across without saying a

It's not that Anissa really *needed* all of the thoughts
running through his mind, but, really, better too much than
too little, and while he's quite sure he's due to be fried to
a crispy little excuse for a vigilante for so much as thinking
it, Anissa's damned cute when she's trying to figure out
what the hell something is *for* without actually asking.

Roy, having finished rearranging the horse-tail butt plugs to
the approval of the large and seriously pierced woman
(*lesbian*), relieves Anissa of her small-only-until-you-think-
about-*use* burden, flips it over, presses a button, and
hands it back.

Anissa manages not to drop it -- impressive, considering the
thing's honest-to-Christ gyrations -- but the expression on
her face --

"Oh, that's a *popular* one," says the woman of lesbianitude
who is neither especially large nor pierced. "Anna thought it
was a *waste* to stock something we couldn't sell for under
sixty --"

"I was thinking of *location*, Rachel!"

"But as soon as I got my own?" Rachel grins a grin of the
sort which makes Roy glad to be alive and capable of things
like aesthetic appreciation and nods. "*I* knew it would sell
like crazy."

"I -- really?" Anissa isn't looking Rachel so much as at...

Well, if Roy didn't know any better, he'd think the thing was
trying to slide up her arm, like maybe snakes were suddenly
made of nubbly silicon and filled with beads and also had an
engine inside somewhere.

It isn't, but... yeah. He has to admit -- the more he looks at
it, the more he thinks maybe he can understand why
Anissa's eyebrows have been doing their best to crawl up
under her wig and hide.

He reaches to shut the thing back off again --

And Anissa yanks it away. "Get your own," she says, and
turns to Rachel. "I mean... really? It seems kind of..."

Rachel plucks it out of Anissa's hands, and does...
*something* which leads to it looking exactly like something
that would fit --

"Whoa. *Oh*."

-- perfectly. In any number of perfect places. Which makes
it kind of tragic that Anissa's blinking like that, because she
suddenly looks about jailbait years old. Right, back to the

Anna snorts and dumps a dustpan full of broken glass in the
trash. "*I* still think it's creepy."

"That's not what you said last night," Rachel says, and
waggles her eyebrows.

He likes Rachel. "I like you," he says, and gets snorted at,
which doesn't make quite *enough* sense until he realizes
that, at the moment, he's got two fists of phallus.

Dick should really be here for this.

Roy tosses her the electric blue scary one and the even
scarier -- it feels a little *too* real -- beige one, one-two,
and gives her his best 'I'm actually damned cute' over-the-
sunglasses smile.

When Anna laughs, she jiggles like a localized earthquake,
and Roy makes a promise to several different goddesses of
feminism -- most of whom will always look like Donna --
not to take Anissa to any nudist chubby camps, whether or
not he ever does find any, no matter how perfect it would

She'd only have to stamp her *foot*.

Roy is totally willing to have Anissa stamp it on one of *his* --
it's not like he needs them like hands. But he can focus,
especially considering the many beautiful things he has *to*
focus on.

"What *I* want to know," he says, and makes a show of
putting his gauntlet back on before picking up the rest of
the beige and pink and brown dildos of creepy, "is how
popular *these* are."

"Awww, are they a little too real, honey?" Anna probably
isn't standing under the display of several of the world's
mightiest butt-plugs on purpose.

Roy plants his fists on his hips. "As a matter of fact -- a
demonstration," he says, and tosses the last of the deep
brown ones directly at Anissa, who catches it, shrieks, tosses
it away, and comes very close to catching it again. "Good
try," he says, and doesn't think about the small and awful
sound the thing makes rolling across all the broken glass
Anna hasn't gotten to, yet.

Anna actually covers her mouth to laugh this time. Her
hands are incongruously small, neat, and covered with
either impressively *old* ink or impressively subtle henna.

Still -- "This is what I'm saying."

Rachel snickers and retrieves the thing like it's a baby with
its diaper caught in barbed wire, instead of what it is. "I
can't say I blame you. But, well, this store doesn't *only*
cater to people who don't actually want any of the things
attached to --" She shakes it at him. "-- the good bits."

"And isn't -- I mean wouldn't it be..."

The expression on Anna's face when she looks at Anissa is
actually pretty similar to some of the looks he gets from
Dinah sometimes, which is something to think about when
he's got a little privacy and/or time for therapy. Just -- that
mix of 'you're adorable' and 'mmm.'

Roy resists the urge to sidle up closer. "Yeah, Thunder?"

She blinks at him. "Oh -- I mean. How do you even --
*clean* those?"

Rachel snorts and starts detangling strands of ben-wa balls.
Anissa catches the long, confusing, and doubtlessly
fantasy-inspiring-for-someone tangle from the other end.
"Not enough. I mean, I try out most of this stuff -- you
gotta be able to talk to the customers, you know?"

Roy nods seriously, and makes a mental note to pick up a
catalog to go along with all the imagery. If nothing else,
Grace will probably be at least a little tempted to try to beat
Rachel's record.

"I'm just saying -- those things catch *every* bit of dust,
and you find yourself sterilizing the neat little case --"

"Sold separately," Anna says, from somewhere in the back.

"And then you find yourself wondering if you sterilized it
*enough* --"

"Not that there's any such thing," and Anna returns with a
box of extra large trash bags and a fond look for Anissa's
fingers on the beads.

They *are* very deft, now that Roy thinks about it.

"And anyway," says Rachel, "while we pride ourselves on
not judging --"

"Not even a little," says Anna, and the look she has for
Anissa's uniform isn't very fond at all, but, happily, Anissa's
focused on the ben-wa ball at hand. Her tongue's actually
sticking out a little.

"*I* just have a difficult time imagining why people would
really want a sex toy that requires so much maintenance. I
mean, there are *orgasms* to be had."

"I feel just the same," Roy says, and tries to decide whether
the studded paddles go in front of or behind the fuzzy ones.
On the one hand, you probably don't want to freak out the
poor bastard (or, to be fair, bitch) who just wants to save
their palms a little punishment.

On the other hand, the fuzzy ones have always looked kind
of tacky --

"Oooh, is that *electric blue*? Arsenal, grab that one for

-- to him. "Not the pink...?"

Anissa makes a face at him, and Roy does not say a word.
There are, after all, shoulder-pads not far enough in his
past. And, to be fair, the electric blue fuzzy paddle has a
really nice balance to it, even though swinging it doesn't
make much of a sound. "I absolutely get to demand details
of this thing's use, Thunder. I'm just saying," he says, and
sets it down on the one section of countertop that's just
cracked, as opposed to shattered.

"Oh, you do not," and Anna hands him the broom.

"I'm putting things away!"

"You're putting them away *wrong*," Anna says, and pats
him on the cheek.

And then arranges the different paddles in a line from
softest to hardest. Which, now that he thinks about it,
makes perfect sense. Roy shrugs, sweeps, and listens to
Anissa whoop with the joy of sex toys being returned to
their original configuration.

When he looks up, she's using two strands of what Roy
sincerely hopes are the largest -- and longest -- available
size in a potentially painful nunchukku battle with Rachel.

Anna is wrapping the electric blue fuzzy paddle in the most
suggestively rosy paper Roy has ever seen. And tucking in
a card with what Roy would lay money was her phone
number while she's at it.


Somewhere, a couple of not especially bright but *very*
original thieves are waiting someplace nasty and depressing
to get booked, his gauntlets smell like 'cyberskin', and New
York's a pretty awesome place to work, all things considered.

"I think you should buy Grace one of *these*," Anissa says,
and hands over the vibrator carved to look like an extremely
well-endowed Superman.

He cranks it up, and -- yeah, there's some power under the
hood, as it were. Still, though. "I just can't picture him
leering like that. The Batman one's better."

Anissa frowns a little. "I don't know. I don't think she's
actually hot for Batman."

It's a point. Though he'd pay money to see her and Bruce...
hell, just in the same *room*. "Wonder Woman, maybe?"

"Oh, *perfect*," Anissa says, and turns back to the
prolesbiatresses. Who are... well, kind of gaping a little.

It's the 'I just realized I'm in a room with an honest to God
superhero,' look -- on both of them -- and while Roy
honestly prefers *not* seeing it...

He's definitely okay with watching Anissa see it, and blush,
and duck her head... and then remember she's by-God
Black *Lightning's* daughter. Because the universe -- not
just New York -- is a pretty wonderful place, this involves
her planting her hands on her hips, thrusting her chest out,
and tossing the wig back over her shoulders.

He'll pay for the spanking stories. He'll pay *blood* if he has

Roy hides his grin behind his hand and goes back to clearing

Definitely the kind of night that needs to happen more often.