Bingle bongle, dingle dangle

Scrapes, Cuts, And Bruises

Here’s what I’d written previously in that previously-mentioned Parkour!Dave fic I’m writing. Angst, physical exertion, and eventually pawssibly a crack pairing to come? I’ll update this post as I write more and announce any updates with little text posts that link back here or something.

I was about to call this story Scrapes And Cuts, but then realized what that acronym would be. So here’s SCAB. Also, for extra points, scabs are also proof of injuries. Sometimes, I feel clever. I also sometimes get the impression that I will regret this title tomorrow. Oh well.

If you have any comments/questions about anything, be it technical questions about parkour, backstory for this AU, whatever, I’ll answer anything.

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Dave breathed with the movements, feeling the rush of air between his lips, feeling the pounding blood as it rushed through his limbs, feeling the stone and metal and concrete under his hands as he vaulted obstacles, climbed walls, swung through railings, and landed in a crouch after a jump, rolled, and continued running. He flew across the terrain, over and through obstacles without being hindered at all.

Dave slowed to a stop at the top of a stairwell and looked down through the center of it. He’d been down and up this same staircase more times than he could count, though only a few of those were by actually taking the stairs. He knew exactly how much distance there was between one landing and the next, how far it was from one edge to the opposite one, how long it took to drop from here to there, all without knowing a single measurement. He knew it in his body, if not in his head.

He was bored.

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