Tempest in a Teacup Chapter One: Taking Things in Hand Evan Andrews 2024
This is a fan fiction.
All characters depicted in it belong to and are trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its subsidiaries. I am not related to the company and make no claim of ownership over the characters. I've given up trying to figure out where my stories fit into the DC continuity, but this one is set in some variant of the switchover period after the New Teen Titans stepped into the spotlight.
The story depicts males in sexual situations, mostly with other males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
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The Teen Titans were fighting again.
Fighting the Fearsome five again.
Garth, aka Tempest, aka the old Aqualad, rolled his eyes.
The only difference between the two villain crews was the precise names of the combatants. Oh, and the costumes. Everybody these days had new costumes (and in some cases new names)--Garth included. His old combination of red jersey and blue trunks had been retired—retired being a kind way of putting it. Garth had actually cast them aside when Aquaman took on a new Aqualad. Instead, Garth had gone with an armless black bodysuit with an armless sea-blue vest (to show off his tiger shark tattoos). But then his old partners had upgraded their costumes too. Dick had abandoned Robin's red vest and green trunks for Nightwing's black bodysuit; Donna had gone from that young girl's version of Wonder Woman to a red unitard, then to a starfield on black Grecian armor look. (Garth wholeheartedly approved.) Even Roy (not technically a Titan anymore) had traded in his red tights and wrap-around jersey for something like a form-hugging armless red jumpsuit. Somebody (whoever it was that made their costumes) was making a killing off all these changes.
The important thing just now, though, was this new Fearsome Five (Dr. Light, Gizmo, Jinx, Mammoth, Neutron, Psimon, and Shimmer) attacking the new Teen Titans (Nightwing, Troia, Starfire, Raven, Changeling, Cyborg, and Jericho). The former Aqualad dove behind Gotham's World's Fair Fountain to escape one of Gizmo's hi-tech blaster bolts, before peeping through the cascades and spray to size up the battle as it currently stood.
Not for the first time, Garth wondered at what he was looking at. Each Titan had a Fearsome that Dr. Light seemed to have been chosen to balance the power he'd be facing. Cyborg (Garth still wasn't used to using street clothes names for these new Titans) and Gizmo. Starfire and Neutron. Raven and Jinx. Changeling and Mammoth.
Is that why they called out to Roy and me?' Garth thought. To throw an element the Fearsomes weren't prepared for at them?'
If that were the case, then the Atlantean could understand what he was doing here. He just wished the new crew had summoned him in a less cavalier manner. It wasn't like he was getting reservist's pay after all. Still, his old teammates had called, and, good friend and hero that he was, Garth had responded.
The combat wove in and around Gotham City's Tomorrow Square, with Garth throwing a blow when and where he could. Flatlander combat still confused him. Maybe if he were a flier like Starfire he could imagine he was underwater, but instead he was stuck trying to use Aquaman's training while trapped in two stupid dimensions.
At least he had the magnificent World's Fair Fountain to hand, so immersing himself from time to time wouldn't be an issue. Wait. Issue. Fountain! Garth suddenly figured out why Dick had call HIM specifically.
Waiting for the right moment, Garth watched the Titans play their game of combat ballet. Fliers flew, stand-and-fighters duked it out, and the mentalists mentalized. Each player looking form that miniscule drop in form that would leave the opposing team open. Garth waited, and then he saw it!
Psimon got a mental blast through and stunned Raven. While she reeled, an evil smile twisted the face of the Fearsome, Jinx, as if she were about to pull off some heinous stunt. The villainess' hands started to weave some pattern, and she made as if to cast something at the momentarily incapacitated Raven.
Not tonight, sweetie,' Garth thought, Not tonight!' and, summoning his powers, he pulled a column of water out of the fountain and shot it straight at Jinx.
"Gah!" the villainess cried out.
The water blast hit her full in the chest, and her attack not only missed, it also backfired--on her! Jinx flew through the air, landed with a gratifying thump, and then flopped about for a moment before passing out. Injured or stunned, Garth didn't know—and frankly he didn't care. You rolls the dice; you pays the price. (Atlanteans tended to be practical in that regard.)
Garth threw his hands in the air.
"Yeah! Titans forever!"
At least he had those few seconds of victory. Then...
"Tempest!" Donna's voice cut through the chaos, "Look out behind you!"
Garth turned suddenly, which allowed him to (mostly) dodge to the right. That dodge, they decided later, was what had saved him from having his skull caved in. (Mammoth had a practical streak too, that in addition to a soft spot for Jinx.) Instead the giant's punch connected only well enough to send the young hero reeling.
The big villain's raucous laughter was the last thing Garth heard before everything went black.
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"That was well done, Gar," Donna said.
"Yeah, where'd you pull that one from?" Cyborg asked.
"Gigantopithecus," Gar said. "It just felt like the right thing to bring a squatch down."
"Cryptid shows," Roy said with a sigh.
Garth half-heard the words as he floated, painfully and slowly, to the surface. He opened his eyes for just a second and saw enough before screwing them closed again. He lay on a bed in what was not a room in any Gotham City hospital he knew.
"Ugh," Garth croaked.
"Garth!" Donna cheered. "You're awake! Gar, call Dick!"
"Yeah," Garth croaked, "I'm not dead yet. Uh, do the lights need to be that bright, and can I get a sponge and a tub of water?"
"I'm on it," Donna said.
The lights dimmed, and in a moment Donna was sponging her friend's drying skin from a basin that had to have been waiting.
"Ah! That's better," Garth moaned (which was only partially true, but he knew they wouldn't just drop in him a pool which was what he really wanted). "What happened?"
The whole gang, old friends and new, stood around him in what had to be the infirmary in Titans Tower in New York. (Garth had no idea how he'd gotten here from Gotham, but he wasn't ready to look a gift-horse in the mouth.)
"Your attack on Jinx swung the battle," Dick (of course Dick) said. "That drew Mammoth's attention away from who he should have been worrying about (Changeling proudly rubbed his fingernails on his shoulder and then blew on them). When he attacked you, he gave Gar there the perfect chance to go Pliocene on his ass.
"Gigantopithecus," Changeling repeated. "One of my favorites."
"And one of mine now," Garth said. "Then what? The Fearsomes...?"
"Being down two members, they were easy to take out. Arkham came by to scoop them up, so we shouldn't have any problems with them," Dick said.
"For a while," Garth sighed.
"Yeah," Donna agreed, "Villains always seem to pop up again if you wait long enough."
"Just like we do!" Gar said emphatically.
`Oceanus, what a cheerleader,' Garth thought.
Garth remembered Gar when he was Beast Boy in the Doom Patrol and then in the Titans West. The kid's yippie-kay-yay innocence had not been knocked out of him. Yet.
"And I...?"
"You, my friend, got a pretty good concussion," Donna said gently.
"Great, I'd hate to invalid here with a bad one," Garth tried to make light of the situation.
"Laugh if you will," said Raven gravely, "But I had to take you up in my soul-self and bring you here ahead of the others. Otherwise things could have gotten dicey."
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that. What does `dicey' mean?" Garth asked.
"It means dicey'. The important words were could have'. As you noted, you're alive. You simply need bed rest and as little stimulation as we can manage," Raven said, shooting a warning glance at her teammates.
"So much for the decathlon we'd planned," Roy quipped.
"Rest and relaxation. Think you're up for that, Garth?" Dick asked with a smile.
"Yeah, I think I can oblige you. In fact, I can barely keep my eyes open as it is."
Dick pulled Garth's eyelids up, one at a time, and he didn't seem to be displeased with that he saw.
"Sleep then," the team leader said. "We'll leave you to it."
As the heroes filed out, the lights dimmed almost to darkness, and Garth drifted off.
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Atlanteans differed from land-based humans. One difference was the way they dreamed. Things experienced in Atlantean REM sleep tended to be exceptionally vivid.
In the middle of the night, Garth either woke up or had one of those vivid Atlantean dreams.
A phantom hand slid out of the darkness and roamed over the Atlantean's all-but-naked body (Garth never wore anything but brief trunks to sleep in). It spent a long time on his pectorals and, after exploring every rung of Garth's washboard abs, ended in cupping his family jewels that were held high and tight in the pouch of his trunks.
"Ah!" Garth gasped.
The healthy young Atlantean, who hadn't really gotten any for a while, was already halfway to a stiffy, and his neglected balls took the hint and sent a jolt of "wake the fuck up" to his cock. Cock listened and tried to force its way out of Garth's trunks. (It didn't stand a chance; supers' costumes were constructed to avoid that embarrassment—teens' costumes especially.)
"Ah!"
Garth wasn't sure if he'd said that out loud or if it was part of the dream. He just knew his body was enjoying the (real or imaginary) sensation of being felt up.
The hero's body writhed under the expert ministrations of the phantom hand. It made a return journey up to the young hero's chest where it teased his nipples erect and then it headed back down towards the real prize. As the phantom fingers worked their magic on Garth's shrouded erection, the hero felt his body tense.
"Cumm..." Garth gasped. "Cumming!"
That said, the Titan's 8 inch rod leapt, and wad after wad of jizz filled his trunks, some of it soaking through the fabric.
"Fuck yeah," Garth moaned.
The phantom hand took up a finger's worth of Garth's Atlantean man-cream and anointed the hero's dry lips with it. The young hero licked his lips clean.
"Sponge, please," Garth murmured as he slid off towards sleep again, and this time he was pretty sure he said it out loud.
In any case, the Atlantean felt the welcome touch of water on his skin again as darkness claimed him.
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The sun rose, and the golden light didn't pain Garth the way the fluorescent lights had last night. Maybe it was a difference in the light, or maybe his brain was settling down. Whatever.
The Titan stretched and vaguely recalled his dream. Or dreams, because the rest of the hero's night had been taken up with variations on the theme already established—a too well-informed hand exploring and teasing and urging on Garth's trim handsome body--his cock rising time and again--and floods of cum filling (and no doubt indelibly staining) his trunks.
Oh well, if it had been a wet dream, Garth thought, it was the best he'd had in quite a while.
Garth decided to calculate the damage, and he lifted the sheet. Looking down... what the fuck...? He really had blasted several orgasms' worth of cum in his trunks. In fact, the jizz, still warm inside the pouch, had not simply stained the fabric, some of it had blasted through the weave and wet the sheets as well. Fuck. How many loads had he blown?
Oceanus!' Garth thought as he tried to get to his feet. Is it because I've been abstaining? Or did that blow to my head manage to shake a screw loose in my lizard-brain? I suppose it doesn't really matter. I need to change into something clean and strip the bed. I've no idea what the new kids would make of seeing all this spunk.'
He pulled the sheets loose and balled them up. Then he stripped and (after a quick sponge bath) pulled on a set of shorts.
Looking at the sodden trunks in his hand, Garth thought, `Damn, I'm not even sure I know what to make of it.'