#jason needs his space in the library sometimes and that is it. two face brings him fruits | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shattersstar · 9 months

Note

absolutely NEED "hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them" with jason todd PLEASE (when you have the chance/motivation) <3

drawstring

pairing: college!au jason todd x reader

prompt: friends to lovers - hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them

word count: 5.5k

warnings: alcohol/smoking mention aka usual college shenanigans, slow burn(?), lil angsty, sports lmao

a/n: writing abt jason in college (here) has done smth to me bc this turned into quite the project (in a good way ofc) and i picked basketball bc it’s the only sport i know enough abt and jason’s tall so it makes sense shhh (also baby boys a centre <3) comments & feedback are always appreciated!

—

shot at the night series.

pt. two - the hellcat spangled shalalala

—

your name is a drawstring laced around my neck, tighter with every breath.

You had approached him first, after your prof caught you off guard with an outlandish take. You glanced over to Jason with your confused and slightly mortified eyes at the rather dated opinion, unable to stop the grin from spreading over your face as you both chuckled a little too loudly. A few people shot looks your way, and you mouthed an apology to him before you both turned back to your notes. Jason thought that had been it, sure you two always sat a chair away from each other and were in the same tutorial and you always smelled so good when he’d walk by, but you were a passing figure in Jason’s life.

Or you were supposed to be until you stopped him at the door, fingers darting out to brush his forearm before you dropped your hand to your side. You offered an apologetic smile while Jason stared at you a little wide eyed.

“Hey, sorry. I just, I dunno. Anyway we were in the same tutorial yeah? And I thought I’d introduce myself. In case we need notes or help or something.” You said, giving him your name while Jason nodded slowly.

A moment of silence passed, you blinked up at him and Jason laughed, “Oh, uh I’m Jason, and yeah sure.”

“Yeah sure? You don’t have to agree if—“

“No—I didn’t mean it like that,” He interrupted with wild urgency before composing himself, “It’s nice to meet you and yeah that’d be great. Thanks.” Jason offered you a grin and your furrowed brows settled.

“Okay, well here’s my number. See ya around Jason!” You beamed at him like you hadn’t been accusing him moments ago, slipping out the door and off the whatever class you had next. He glanced down at the ripped piece of paper with your number. Who gives out their number like this anymore? He thought to himself, shoving the piece of paper into his pocket and ignoring how much he liked the way you said his name.

It was a steady friendship after that, you liked having someone outside your usual circle, someone to help with class and Jason liked you. He knew after a few weeks of consistently hanging out, usually in the library or empty lecture halls, but sometimes in your dorms. Sitting side by side in your bed or sprawled out on the floor in Jason’s single room were moments seared into his brain. Private and quiet in those small spaces, especially in your shared bedroom, that demanded close proximity. Maybe he should have put the pieces together then, fully coming to terms with his onslaught of feelings for you, but it took a boring day in the library for Jason to fully clue in.

You were sharing a booth and Jason was letting you copy his notes from the lecture you missed last week. You were close, typing with silent intent while Jason took in your side profile. The soft curve of your cheek, your lashes sweeping each time you glanced between screens and lips plump and wet from your tongue running over them out of habit. Jason knew he was staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

When that crossed Jason’s mind, something tight bit into his chest as he realized no one admired their friends like that. He had always thought you were cute, and a nice presence to be around, but that warm feeling you fostered in his chest felt different—heavier when you looked up at him.

“Done!” You chimed, breaking Jason from his realization with your sweet voice. “Thanks again. I might need help studying this chapter when the final comes up but I should be good for now.” You closed your laptop, shuffling your books into your bag and letting Jason know your time together was coming to an end. He felt selfish for wanting more time with you, but you had already told him when you flopped down that you wouldn’t be able to stay long. Jason had tried not to appear annoyed then, but couldn’t care less now as he closed his laptop with a bit too much force. It garnered your attention as you glanced over at him with concern, “All good?”

Okay maybe he did care.

“Uh, yeah, yeah.” Jason nodded absentmindedly and hated how nervous you made him. How could he not see it before, the way words seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth and coherent thoughts flew out the window each time you two studied together. How it got worse when you were close, leaning into him or slapping his arm when he was criticizing one of your papers.

“Oookay,” You said it like you didn’t believe him before turning to face him fully, “One of my friend’s boyfriend or something works at a bar so my friends and I are going there tonight if you wanna join. I know its not really our thing, but we didn’t get to hang out today so.”

Our thing. Jason liked how that sounded, the implication of it. Like time spent together and even Jason himself was your own private little thing, it was special and not to be shared. It was a dangerous way to think of your friendship—of love—but Jason burned hotter at the thought regardless. And with you being scorned by your lack of time together as well, it all made something wicked pour into Jason’s chest as he a grin lit up his face. The guilt of having to cancel on Roy vanished immediately as he nodded.

“Yeah, just text me the details.”

You smiled wide, arms thrown around his shoulders as you hugged Jason for the first time before leaving him breathless amongst the shelves of books.

Jason almost pussied out, a block away from the bar and filled with dread. He questioned why he had agreed when this was the first time you two would be together outside the pretense of school work, on top of coming to terms with his feelings for you. And while studying together never meant solely talking about school, you two chatted about growing up in Gotham and dealing with being away from home. You both loved food and had a habit of showing each other what dishes you made the night before. You were also fond of baking when you visited friends' apartments, and would him banana bread or lemon squares on top of a coffee some days. You had asked his drink order the first time you two had hung out, and would always text him when you were running late if he wanted anything.

He would always say no and you would get him a drink anyways. “It’s my late tax.” You shrugged once, leaving him a bit speechless at how nonchalant your ability to care was.

Relishing in those moments made Jason breathe a bit easier, stuffing his hands into his leather jacket’s pockets and continuing down the street lamp lit road. He could hear muffled chatter and music playing as he neared, and despite wanting to sneak in without detection, you were outside sharing a cigarette with a friend and laughing amongst yourselves. You spotted Jason over your friend’s shoulder, immediately abandoning your conversation in favour of greeting him. Pride boasted in his chest, but it was quickly overcame by affection as you half ran, half drunk waddled over, arms wrapping around his waist before he could even breathe out a hello.

“I’m so happy you showed up.” You muttered into his jacket, pulling away just as Jason went to wrap his arms around you. You blinked up at him in the dopey sort of way, and it made him smile.

“You been here a while?” He asked, your brows pulling together.

“Are you saying I appear intoxicated Jason?” You teased, his name always sounding so right when you said it, especially now. Low and teasing, heavy with whatever you had drank.

“Depends, you always use big words when you’re drunk?” He jutted his chin at you, calmness flowing into his chest. Jason felt stupid for being worried, when he wasn’t so caught up in how you made him feel, you brought an ease out of him. A playfulness that sometimes left him tripped up and face hot, but you never seemed to notice.

“Pfft, you haven’t even heard the big words I know Mr. Literature Major.” He rolled his eyes, as you poked his chest. Your name was called before he could think of a response, both of you turning your attention towards the bar.

“Oh you can finish it, it's fine.” You waved your hand at your friend holding your smoke, more focused on Jason as you slipped beside him. You linked arms, leaning your weight into him as you headed towards the entrance. “Everyone’s inside, sorry if I reek of smoke.”

“I don’t mind.” He murmured, looking down at you and wondering how easy it would be to press a kiss to the top of your head. To lean over and—

“Oh by the way—“ Your voice pulled Jason from his thoughts, and he realized he was being introduced to the friend you were smoking with. He’d be hard pressed to remember her name, but she seemed nice enough. Jason had to force himself to be present as your arm slipped from his, and a chorus of voices greeted the two of you. You introduced everyone first, he was normally good with names and faces, in seas of people or gatherings like this, but Jason felt otherworldly. The only presence he felt grounded to was you, sitting next to him with one of your legs crossed over the other, calf brushing his shin as you told everyone how you two met.

“Wait—don’t you play for the basketball team?” One of your guy friends suddenly asked, and for some reason Jason immediately looked to you, to find you staring right back at him with a confused expression.

“Oh yeah, I’m starting this season—“

You slapped his arm with a shocked chuckled, “You have never told me that! What the hell!” You yelled, not louder than the chatter filling the bar as no one even looked your way. Everyone laughed as he shrugged, running his fingers through his wavy locks while you eyed him.

“Yeah I remember seeing a post with you, I think I remembered your hair.” Your friend continued, making you laugh softly. The stark white strands at the front that fell into his eyes sat against the raven black of the rest of Jason’s hair. You had asked him once if he dyed it like that, and Jason only shook his head no, continuing with the chapter like no follow up would be needed. It was perhaps why your hand found his, the one resting on his thigh underneath the table.

Your fingers curled around his hand and you let the conversation drift onto Jason’s basketball career. You listened intently, your chair right next to his as he talked about playing in the public courts as a kid, and was on a real team for the first time in highschool. He didn’t think he’d go to school for a basketball scholarship, but it seemed like the right time when he was offered. And while it was mostly true, Jason skipped over some of the more gruesome details of his life you had gotten pieces of, you knew he lived on the streets before he was adopted, but Jason never spoke of his adoptive father. You didn’t even have a name for the man who had given him a chance at life, but you were never one to push. You knew when to ask and when not too, you seemed to understand that Jason’s temperament existed on a razor sharp line, and walked it effortlessly.

“I feel kinda dumb because who is friends with someone this goddamn tall and doesn’t ask if they play basketball or volleyball even.” You snorted at one point, making Jason laugh. You let your hand fall from his then, pushing yourself up to get another drink. A few friends requested shots and you asked Jason if he wanted anything, but he shook his head no. He almost offered to go with you, but you were gone before he had the chance. He was left alone to be interrogated more about his life, which he didn’t mind, he was used to it.

It came with being a collegiate level athlete and one of the sons of Gotham’s favourite billionaire, even if most people his age didn’t know that. But it was always the same shit, especially college guys who loved to live some NBA fantasy through Jason though that wasn’t what he was striving for. Jason wanted his degree and if playing basketball helped him focus and work out everything he kept inside, then so be it. Jason never mentioned it to you because he had never seen himself as an athlete who has to go to school, but instead as a student with the perk of playing a sport he enjoyed. He felt a bit wrong for not sharing that side of his life with you, for wanting you to know him and what he loved as much as he wanted to know that about you.

It would be something to dwell on later as you returned with your friends' drinks, and on your second trip you brought a drink for yourself and another beer for Jason. You only sent him a smile as you set it down, falling back into the conversation as the night rolled on. Jason did his best to stay attentive, but you all were a little drunk and tripping over words by a certain point. Jason felt warm and content next to you, unsure how many drinks you two had ended up getting for another, but appreciating how you felt beside him regardless.

“I’m gonna go smoke and then wander my ass home.” You declared, leaving a few bills on the table which Jason immediately scooped back up.

“I got ours.” He said, pushing himself up a little too fast that his chair tipped backwards. You giggled a little unceremoniously at the sight before his words hit your ears. You began to object, but Jason had already slunk to the bar while your friends picked his chair, and closed out whatever tab you had. He was sure he ended up paying for a few of your friends' drinks too, but didn’t have the capacity to care. You were outside by the time he was back, bidding goodbye to your friends before joining you in the chilly air. “Are you actually walking home?” Jason asked, stealing your cigarette from between your fingers while you pouted.

“No, I ordered an uber. It's not coming for like ten minutes but I wanted air.” You said, voice sleepy with words falling into another.

“I’ll wait with you.”

“You can uber with me, if you want.” You offered and Jason considered it. It would mean more time alone with you, but he wasn’t sure he could keep it up anymore. With alcohol heavy in his bones and nicotine burning his throat, Jason didn’t know if he could keep it hidden anymore. Keep his feelings at bay when all his inhibitions were down and telling him not to. It was too dangerous, too risky so he shook his head no reluctantly.

“I could use the air too.” You nodded as he passed back your smoke, the hum from the bar and citylife filled the air before you looked down at your phone.

You stared unmoved for a moment, then your eyes met Jason’s. Green and heavy with want, he knew it was obvious. And either you were oblivious or didn’t care as you looked at him unfazed. Drunk and tired, but nothing heavy lurked in your gaze. It made his mouth go sour, but your voice broke any annoyance from flowering.

“Hey, when’s your next game?” You asked, swaying on your feet every so faintly.

“Uh, next Friday I think. Why?” Jason sounded a bit harsher than he meant, but you only laughed.

“Is it cool if I come watch?”

“Yeah it’s not like I can’t stop you,” You frowned at that and Jason was ready to blame the alcohol, “Sorry, I meant I'd like it if you came. My friend Roy, you met him last time he was visiting, is here again and gonna go on Friday if you wanna go with him.”

“Yeah! That’d be great!” You closed the space between you two and pulled Jason into a hug. Your arms wound around his shoulders this time, pulling him down to your level as you stood on your tippy toes. He wasted no time wrapping his strong arms around you, hands splayed on your back as his nose brushed the juncture where your shoulder and neck met. You smelled as good as you always did, a bit like liquor and sweat too, but still that summery scented warmth. It was oceanic and sweet, like that earthy natural sweetness. The kind from berries and sap, that stick to your tongue and remind you of hot endless days.

And maybe Jason was drunk and reading too much romantic poetry recently for one of his courses, or maybe he just wanted to let himself go, to feel whatever you made him feel tenfold with no hesitation. Jason let his head tilt forward, lips brushing the side of your neck before he placed a soft, open mouth kiss next to where your perfume was the strongest. Where it enveloped his senses and made him forget the reality of his life and your friendship. His tongue darted out to brush where his lips had met your skin when your fingers clutched his shoulders and pushed your bodies apart.

You stared at him a little wide eyed, his long arms still able to breach the distance and distantly holding onto your waist before the car pulling up next to you snapped Jason to reality as his grasp fell from you. Regret filled Jason instantly, words unable to form as his tongue ran across his bottom lip. You followed the action with your eyes, arms hugged around your chest as you took another step back.

“I’ll see you in class next week okay?” You said, expression softening as Jason forced a smile and nod like he hadn’t just ruined everything you two had built. You waved before ducking into the car, and vanishing into the night. Jason started walking home immediately, eyes focused on the pavement and how his steps fell on after another until he was home. He didn’t even change before rolling into bed, tossing off his hoodie and kicking off his boots before letting the promise of sleep and forgetting overtake him.

Jason thought he would wake up in a better mood, a less angry one.

He was wrong.

though I probably deserve this noose, there's one thing I'd like to adduce…just know I never resented you.

Jason knew he was being childish, probably handling it in the worst way, but he decided to take a cue from your reaction to his kiss, and was avoiding you. The few times you crossed paths on campus, he would send you a quick wave or fake smile before veering off in whatever direction was furthest from you. You managed to trap him in one conversation, asking if you still were on to study after class. “Uh sure, works for me.” Jason fidgeted with his zipper before bidding you goodbye and spinning out of the building he needed to be in.

He was also texting you less, keeping his phone in his bag most of the day and replying half heartedly. He was sure you knew something was up—how could you not expect Jason to be awkward all things considered?

And if you were still clueless to his avoidance, Jason made it clear when he walked past the desk you two normally shared during lecture. You had looked up as he headed down the stairs dividing the lecture hall into three. Yet Jason kept his head forward, opting to sit on the left side of the theater and closer to the front. He could feel your gaze following him, and Jason only worked up the courage once to steal a glance in your direction to see you typing furiously.

His head snapped back to the front as he pretended to listen. Jason did try to pay attention, but guilt was slowly eating him whole. He was so grateful when the lecture finally ended, taking his time to pack up and relieved to see you had already left by the time Jason started heading to the exit. Or so he thought until you stood across from the doors, arms crossed over your chest, clearly unimpressed.

“We still on to study?” You asked, clipped. Jason was sure this was the first time he had actually seen you mad, and hated he was the cause of it.

“I have a last minute practice tonight.” He said and you scoffed. Basketball had never once gotten in the way of your friendship to the point you didn’t even know he was on the team.

“Sure, okay. Well have fun and see ya around Jason.” You rolled your eyes as you pushed off the wall, shaking your head as you brushed past him. His eyes fell closed, head tipping forward as he let out a hefty sigh. Broad chest expanding and falling as he blew out hot air.

“Fuck.” He muttered, running a hand over his face and heading to the gym until night had rolled in. He would’ve stayed longer, doing a few laps in the pool perhaps, until Jason remembered Roy was still in his dorm.

Jason knew he wasn’t only being a shitty friend to you, but he had abandoned Roy twice now during his visit. It was too much guilt for Jason to hold and he didn’t have the space for it as he headed back to his friend, praying Roy wasn’t too mad. And he wasn’t, instead sleeping with his head by the foot of Jason’s bed and limbs hanging off all sides.

It made Jason laugh, a lightness filling him for the first time today. His game was tomorrow and Roy would be there and maybe it would be enough.

You weren’t going to show, Jason was sure of it. Well, there was the outlier possibility you might, but no, logically you were pissed and not going to show up. Unless maybe to boo him. That made Jason chuckle, pulling off his headphones as he half listened to his coach and captains’ last minute pep talk. It wasn’t the most important game, losing wouldn’t drop the teams standing much, but winning would look good as hell.

That appealed enough to Jason who was rolling out his ankles before pushing to his feet, the black of his jersey contrasted the white long sleeve he had underneath. His hair had gotten long enough to sweep back into a small ponytail, the short strands falling forward and framing his face. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors as everyone headed out of the lockeroom. Jason looked happy, it seemed like a foreign expression on his face, especially as of late. But the prospect of losing himself in a game always appealed to Jason and would soon became reality.

It was his needed escape, from all the chaos he had caused, but his peace came to halt when Jason searched for Roy in the sea of people and found you next to him. Roy had a conniving grin, so maybe he was a little mad at being abandoned and hearing Jason mope about you for the last few days.

One of Jason’s teammates slammed into his back as his sneakers squeaked to a stop.

“You good man?” He asked, placing a hand on Jason’s arm as he jogged past him. Jason nodded, following behind him and trying to focus on anything, but you. Of course you showed up, and didn’t even look mad, but excited.

Jason stared at the lines painted onto the ground, trying to push away the sudden anxiety looming in his stomach. He wanted to play well for you, he knew that much, but it was hard to think about anything else. Process the flow of the game while he knew you were watching. It wasn’t your fault, but Jason just couldn’t engage with you, not right now. He ignored both you and Roy the entire first half, not once sparing a glance in your direction, and opting to duck into the locker room when half time rolled through.

He normally would come chat, he knew Roy expected that much, but Jason just needed to play. To focus on rebounds and blocking and winning. It was simple, and with each second played he felt a bit easier. Like braving you once the break ended would be more bearable. But as Jason headed back onto the court, he was met with an empty seat. Roy was still there, looking rather unamused, but trying to push it down for Jason’s sake, while Jason stared helplessly.

You left, and he should have saw it coming, but it still hurt like hell. Jason played the second half well, mostly angry at himself for being an ass, and doing nothing to stop himself. Watching repeatedly from the outside as he fumbled every meaningful relationship if given the time. It made Jason sick, angry enough to be fouled out during the last few minutes, but his team won nonetheless.

The initial celebration seemed to pass in a haze, his teammates' voices flying over Jason’s head as he pushed his way through the crowd, wandering to where Roy sat with his arms crossed over his chest. “You played like a jackass near the end.” The redhead stated when Jason was in earshot.

“Playing how I feel I guess.” Jason shrugged, gaze flickering to the empty seat near to him.

Roy sighed, pushing himself up and slapping a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “At least you can admit. Now go be nice and shake hands and I’ll meet you at the afters, see if I can get your little crush to show up too.” Roy stated, making Jason chuckle as he nodded.

“Alright, and thanks man.”

“Anytime,” Roy grinned, letting Jason go before shouting, “Oh hey!”

He turned around as Roy held up his phone, “They asked for a play by play when they left, just so you know.” He said, a wide smile cracking over Jason’s face. You still cared, at least somewhat how he did, and maybe would show up (again) after all.

just know I never resented you, and I understand if you can't stand the sound or sight of my name.

Jason was in a sea of people, the usual spot for post game drinks overflowed, everyone in the celebrating mood it seemed. Jason tried to play along, and get lost in the fun, but was anxiously waiting for you and Roy. His gaze kept flitting to the door, half listening to conversations and participating even less. Jason ignored comments about how he played the last few minutes, sending tight smiles to the people who thought they had the right to joke about that stuff with him. They usually got the message after that, leaving him be until someone else decided to pull him into a conversation. The cycle was starting again as one of Jason’s captains called his name, but Roy’s hat flashed in Jason’s periphery and he didn’t even acknowledge the senior before turning towards the door.

“Outside.” Was all Roy said with a wink, patting Jason on the shoulder and slipping past him into the celebrations.

Jason wormed his way through the crowd, yanking open the front door and nearly colliding with you. You stepped back as Jason froze in the doorway.

“Uh Jay, I think people are tryna get by.” You said, nodding behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at the couple, and moved out of the way wordlessly as they dipped into the night. You slouched against the brick wall of the bar, and Jason headed towards you like a man compelled. He leaned into the wall, looking down at you as you sent him a smile. You were close, carrying the scent of smoke and that fucking perfume.

“Heard you fouled out.” You commented, making Jason chuckle.

“Yeah, a little too pissed to play nice.” He shrugged, toying with a string on his belt and pushing further into the wall, hoping the bricks would devour him.

“Is that how you normally play?”

“No, not unless I’m in my head.” You tensed at his reply, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Y’know we don’t have to talk about anything tonight, you should be celebrating anyway. We can play nice? For tonight?” You said after a moment, looking away from him while Jason continued to stare down at you.

“What?” He breathed.

“I just don’t think we need to focus on like, a drunk mistake right now. You guys won, let's just focus on that.” You shrugged, still looking towards the pavement while Jason’s jaw clenched.

Drunk mistake? Sure that was a way to describe it, but it was more than that. It was a revelation to the feelings Jason had been harboring, those same feelings he handled so poorly this last week and you wanted to forget it? Put it aside like you didn’t set Jason on fire from the inside out and were the one standing there with a fire extinguisher all at once. It wasn’t something he could just ignore anymore, not even for a few hours. It was why he had all, but abandoned you this week, more so than the embarrassment. And you chalked it up to a drunk mistake?

No.

He was silent for a while, long enough to beckon your gaze back to his as you turned to face him slightly. It appeared you weren’t getting out of this conversation tonight and neither was Jason.

Jason huffed, palms digging into his eyes before he said, “It wasn’t—that wasn’t me being drunk, okay—yeah I was, but it wasn’t a mistake in the way you’re thinking. I-I did that because I…like you. A lot, and have for a while.”

This silence seemed to stretch on longer than the one before—

“Oh.”

Jason laughed, he couldn’t help it, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he barked, “Well that’s always a great response.”

The coldness of his response snapped you out of whatever shock his confession put you in, “No, no I'm just surprised, sorry. And it’s not like I don’t like you too, but—“

“Oh that’s an even better one.” Jason muttered, and went to head back inside until your fingers shot out and grabbed his wrist. He stayed in place, but couldn’t turn to face you.

“Hey, stop being an ass, I asked you to play nice so listen. Jason, I do like you, I think you’re great actually, but this is a bit of a shock to me, and we still need to talk about how you treated me this last week. I need time to process all of this because I don’t wanna damage our relationship even more right now. But I still care about you a lot so just. Bear with me?” You said, breathless afterwards and thumb stroking against his wrist as Jason finally turned to face you.

“I can…work with that.” He said softly.

“Well I’m glad,” You shifted closer, squeezing his wrist before adding, “And hey maybe if you get a little too drunk tonight and make another mistake…it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Jason immediately tipped himself into you, making you scream out a laugh while trying to push him off.

“Y’know now that you mention it, I'm feeling pretty drunk now.” He pretended to trip over his feet while your palms pressed into his chest.

“God you’re so annoying.” You grinned when Jason stopped, holding up his own weight while you slapped the back of your hand into his stomach. “Now let’s go get messed up, Roy’s driving so!”

“Oh say no more.” You slipped your hand into his, fingers interlocking as you led Jason back into the bar. You glanced back when his fingers tightened around yours. grinning brightly at him in the hazy lighting, a beacon of good and calmness Jason longed for. And while there was still uncertainty and time before Jason could truly relish in you, he would bear with you as you asked.

—

title/lyrics comes from drawstring by pity sex.

pt. two - the hellcat spangled shalalala

#jason pining and doing it miserably is my fave genre #shot at the night #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc imagine #dc x reader #writing

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flying-nightwing · 3 years

Text

Throne of Blood (3/3)

Hello there! Last part of Throne of Blood, I hope you appreciated this little serie! I loved t write it tbh, it was a nice change from the usual DC stuff I write. If you want a bonus chapter, let me know! I thought about doing either a prequel for when they invaded the castle, or some headcanons if y’all have some.

Ps: I realised I kinda made Bruce to be the bad guy here, oops. Sorry about that, but to my defence, family drama was something I built toward from the beginning 😅 Full disclosure, I have nothing against Bruce and Damian pls don’t come at me

Masterlist in bio / pinned!

Pairing: King!Jason x reader x Roy

Word count: 4414

Warnings: same as the last parts (cautious nsfw) + family drama lmao

"--and the might of the casc… cascade could never compare to the ce… cerul… cerulean of her eyes. She was his hope, the only thing he cherished, none of his posse...ssions could ever be worth as much as a minute with her"

You paused to breathe as you reached a paragraph break. You could feel Roy's relaxed stare on you, a small smile ever present on his lips. His hand was absentmindedly rubbing your knees that were lying over his thigh, while his other arm was snugly wrapped around your waist. The quiet crackling of the fireplace indicated the need to add a log, but neither of you wanted to move from your nestled position. Eventually one would have to, though, before the room grew cold.

"I like it when you read to me" Roy hummed, almost like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. But if you knew one thing about him, it's that he carried very little shame when it came to love. He would never intend to hide his thoughts when they came, and you admired that about him. Still, you couldn't help but look down in embarrassment.

Him and Jason had taught you to read some months after you joined them, when he passed you a map to find a town's name and you had to tell him you couldn't. Ever since, you worked often on your reading skills, leafing through whatever seemed interesting from Jason's library. But you weren't a natural, far from it.

"I can't even pronounce all the words correctly" You mumbled. "It must be hard to follow sometimes"

He gently pushed your chin up so he could look into your eyes again. It didn't matter for one second for him that you didn't have the diction of an erudit or the flow of a poet. All he wanted was to hear your voice and watch your eyebrows knit in concentration when you butted on a difficult word. He liked the little things so much better than the finished product.

"I think it sounds perfect"

The corner of your lips rose slightly at his praise as your heart skipped a few beats. Even after all the time you spent together, he always managed to find the right word to make you love him even more, if it was possible. His constant and unconditional support was your crutch, the thing you could rely on no matter what happened, the safe space in which you would never feel judged for what you couldn't do.

"You know" He began again when he noticed you had trouble believing what he said. You wanted to believe him, but deep inside he knew it was harder for you, and he understood all too well the feeling of not being enough. "I couldn't read either before I was taken in by my warden"

You tilted your head to the side, frowning slightly. You had never known.

"Took me years to get average at it. And you should have seen my writing-- Hell, you should see it now, it's catastrophic"

You couldn't help but giggle along as he laughed. It was contagious.

"It's the same with Jason--No wait, the brat actually taught himself how to read somehow" He blinked slowly, like he was still surprised by it. You weren't really, you knew Jason was even smarter than you were aware of. Than anyone was aware of. "But his writing was terrible until he got a proper tutor, that I know of for a fact"

"But his writing is so…" You trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Exquisite"

"Now who's pulling out the big words, uh?"

"Shut up" You laughed, lightly hitting his chest with the book. “Don’t mock me”

“I’m not!” He argued, giving you wide, innocent eyes. He looked too cute for his own sake. “I swear I’m not. You’re just adorable when you get all flustered”

“We better start gearing up now” You evaded the subject, clearing your throat. “Jason will be expecting us--”

“Just one more chapter” He interrupted softly, caressing your waist. “Please?”

You held his stare for a moment before you were convinced, and you nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. You opened the book to the page you had marked and found the paragraph you had stopped to.

“As he was sitting by the window, he couldn’t help but think about the ar-arrival of the spring, only a few weeks away if nature de...cided to be kind--”

“My Lord, my Lady”

You paused your reading and looked up. This time, it was Roy who looked the most annoyed of the two of you.

“It’s time”

You sighed and nodded, putting down the book on the table. Roy was clearly disappointed, but he helped you nevertheless get back on your feet, being careful not to pull on your bandages too much. You were healing well for your condition, you could now walk around and sit down without much help. Still, Roy and Jason didn’t like the idea of leaving you on your own for too long, just in case someone tried to come for you. You definitely couldn’t wield your axes just yet, so it made you an easy target even if you weren’t bed ridden anymore.

You walked out of the chamber beside Roy, him following your slower pace without complaint. You reached the other end of the hallways and entered another room with chests and racks, where your equipment was kept. You began putting on your suit, the one you had made when you rode beside the Red Hood, well before he was king. It was all black with a red pointed arch on the chest that imitated Jason’s sigil, which was outlined with a single silver following your collarbone. It rose up the back of your neck and was reinforced to protect your vitals.

“Could you help me pull it up, please?”

Roy nodded as he finished to lace his arm braces, stepping right behind you. He picked the stiff fabric and gently tugged it over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin along the way. He was even more careful with your injured shoulder, making sure it wasn’t bent in any way to fit through the suit. He and Jason had advised against you wearing it, but you were stubborn and refused to show weakness in front of the enemy. Besides, it looked great on you. Roy then buttoned up the suit on your back and up your neck before giving you a kiss on the temple.

“Close your eyes, I’ve got a little something for you” He whispered in your eyes, and despite your initial confusion, you did as you were told and shut your eyes. You felt something being passed over your head and gently rest on your shoulders, then straps being adjusted on your sides. “You can open the now”

You did as he said and looked down as he gently directed you to the mirror on your left. He had placed a beautiful piece of equipment that paired well with the colors of your suit, lightweight and practical, that covered your shoulders front and back. You usually went without, but it was appropriate considering another arrow in the back would do you no good right now. And since you most probably wouldn’t be using your axes anyway, you could do without your full shoulder movements range.

“Where did you get this?” You asked as you trailed your finger on the skillfully crafted metal. There was no doubt it had been made for you by how it fit with both your body and suit. It must have cost a fortune.

“The blacksmith in town, the one living near the gates of the castle” He began. “His son was killed by the guild of thieves that lived uptown, the ones we wiped off right after the undertaking. He wanted to thank us somehow, and when he learned about what happened to you, he made this as a present”

“It’s… Very beautiful” You breathed out. “I’ll have to thank him later on. This must have taken so much time to make”

“But you deserve it” He said as he placed a light kiss on your jaw. “You deserve the best. And the best suits you”

“Thank you” You nodded, taking his hand. The leather of his archery glove was rough against your skin, but it had also become a comfort born from the endless days you spent training and hunting on the road. It was tied to some of your best memories with him, and it still amazed you how a simple touch could bring it all back vividly like that. “Come on, Jason must be waiting for us”

You went down to the court, where Jason was talking with the commander and some generals. Upon hearing your footsteps, he perked up and turned around, taking you specifically in. He smiled and nodded, heading for the three black steeds, groomed and in full armor, in the hands of the stable hands. You followed him and grabbed the reins of your mount, carefully climbing on its back and sitting in the saddle.

“Are we ready?” Jason asked.

“Of course” Roy replied first, then both of their eyes set on you.

“Let’s do this” You nodded firmly.

With a kick of your heels, you took off the court and onto the bridge, in the direction of the Wayne Kingdom.

---

“Soooooo…” Roy trailed off. “Do you think he stood us up or..?”

You looked away from the horizon and to Roy, who was slouched over the pommel of the saddle while his horse was trying to dig for grass through the snow. “Maybe he’s trying to ambush us”

“I don’t think so” Jason mumbled, his eyes still set northwest. His back was straight with a hand resting on his hips, the other holding the reins tight. His horse was attentive, chewing on its bit in anticipation. “It wouldn’t be like him, not while we’re on this hill anyway”

You nodded as your fingers flexed around the reins, a bit bored and definitely not impressed by the opposite party being late to their own meeting. There was barely any wind over the field, and the thick cover of the cloud didn’t let the sun rays through. Still, smoke came out of the horses’ nostrils with every breath they let out.

“There they come”

You glanced forward again at Jason’s warning, seeing a small party of riders coming your way. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry, walking rather than trying to reach you at a trot. The closer they came, the better you could point out characteristics for each rider. The one at the front was wearing all black with a cape that fell over the pale gray horse he was riding. It was almost white, but the dark skin around its eyes and nose proved differently. The second rider was on a smaller chestnut horse, and was a child. You blinked a few times, but his youthful features were obvious. The two other riders some paces behind were an escort, soldiers with steel armors and banners from their kingdom.

After a long waiting for them to actually be at hearing range, they finally stopped a few meters ahead and assessed your party. Jason was visibly tense, but his blue eyes gave nothing out on how he was feeling about seeing his father in front of him after all this time. They stared at each other for long minutes before the piercing glance of Bruce Wayne set on you. You clenched your jaw, not backing down, until his eyes finally left you.

“Your… Friend seems to have healed quite well” The older king spoke first.

“Don’t act like you give a fuck” Jason sneered. “You were the one who made this coward attack on her happen in the first place”

“Watch your mouth, runt” The child on the side almost barked. “You’re speaking to a legitimate King, unlike you”

“And who the fuck might this goblin be?” Roy said before he could stop himself. While the child looked appalled, Roy was still very relaxed on his horse. He might have been the only one to be, even if you did want to laugh at the outburst.

“I am the blood son, the true heir to the throne” He replied with all his might, except it didn’t quite have the desired effect, since he was on a pony, for one. “You peasant will respect me, or--”

“Damian, please” Bruce interrupted firmly. “Now is not the time to settle this”

“But--”

“Why am I not surprised that you fathered a brat?” Jason leaned forward, feeling taunting for a moment. “Which one of your concubines had enough bad luck to get pregnant? Selina? Or was it Richard’s lover, whatever was her name? Or maybe Talia, oh memorable Talia--”

“Don’t speak of my mother that way” Damian pulled his sword out.

“So Talia it is” He smirked.

“We are here to negotiate peace, not fuel a war” Bruce replied sternly. “I can do much worse than an arrow in the shoulder of a loved one, you know it. So be careful what you’re advancing about my family”

“Then keep your son on a tighter leash” Jason said, his face returning to a serious expression. “I still haven’t made my mind about keeping peace, don’t give me reasons to leave this meeting before we can discuss it”

“I should be telling you this” He squinted his eyes slightly. “You have thrown over a stable ally of this kingdom and stole the crown, then taken prisoner the King of Blüdhaven without giving a follow up on his state. You are in no place to threaten a war, yet here you are”

Jason waited a few seconds, not letting his stare waver. Then, he sighed and whistled. The plains were silent, until the faint sound of hooves cantering on the crisp snow grew closer to your position. Soon enough, you were passed on your left by another rider, slowly walking around you and toward Bruce’s party. Dick had a neutral expression as he turned around, stopping at Bruce’s side.

“Here” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Your golden son, unharmed albeit slightly vexed”

“You should still pay for a crime like this” Bruce said.

“It’s fine” Dick tried to appease the tensions. “I do not wish to further this conflict, I have done enough already as it is”

“Why didn’t you fight back, Richard?” Damian asked in a judging and accusatory tone. “This is a disgrace to our family, and a display of weakness--”

“I was trying to avoid a much worse escalation of this conflict by owning a diplomatic mistake I made in the first place” He bit back. “What would you even know of politics, spoiled child?”

Roy laughed, and the sound only seemed to anger Damian more. You were in the middle of a family conflict, and unlike him, you didn’t know this side of the family well. You didn’t really know how to act, so you observed what would go down rather than actively participate.

“I find the ginger man’s insolence unwelcomed in this matter” Damian said, trying to wash down the humiliation his brother had just handed to him. “He’s got nothing to do with it, and he’s got no title. He shouldn’t even be speaking”

“He speaks because I say he can” Jason defended Roy in a heartbeat, his tone strong and authoritative. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got a crown and you don’t, which puts me above you in status and therefore my wishes outweigh yours”

Your eyebrow rose slowly as your eyes met Roy’s, who had an equally stunned expression. Jason had never used his status against anyone like that. It even seemed to take Damian by surprise, which was, with what you had learned about him in the last minutes, a hard feat to accomplish. If you were honest with yourself, while you loved Jason as a humble king, you were curious about the other side of him, even if he would show it in private.

“Your crown was stolen” Bruce reassessed. “The Kingdoms surrounding yours have decided this gesture would not stand. I wished a peaceful surrender from you, but it doesn’t seem like I will convince you to do so. You have three days to abdicate, until the next full moon, or your kingdom will be taken back by force”

“You think this is wise?” You finally spoke up on instinct, and all eyes turned to you, looking at you with surprise. You weren’t about to let those threats stand, especially not from Bruce. “Ever since King Jason came into power, he wiped out a guild that stole from families and murdered good people. Our kingdom is the safest for miles around, so much we get waves of new settlers even in winter. He lowered taxes on the population so much that most towns in the country have become flourishing trade posts in the span of a year, and instead taxed the nobility and cut on useless balls and dinners. Nobody starved last winter, and nobody is starving this one. Do you think the word didn’t get out to the other countries around? People are starting to want this for themselves too, and you think putting them through a devastating war will make things better? It will only make them resent you, those who didn’t already. We have people in every castle you know of who are ready to turn against you the second they get wind of aggression--”

“Bullshit” Damian called.

“Are you ready to take the risk?” You raised an eyebrow at him, before returning your glance to Bruce, who betrayed no emotion. “You will lose this war if you start it. You should consider your people before you send them to slaughter”

Silence fell over the hill for a moment.

“... What she said” Roy grinned, breaking the silence.

Bruce looked at Jason for a reaction, or most likely, some sort of opposition to what you had just said. Instead, he only readjusted his reins and straightened his back. “You heard right,” He said, not wavering. “You have three days, until the next moon, to annulate the warrants and back down. Think about your people, Bruce. Make the right decision”

With that mocking reprise of his father’s previous words, he turned his horse around and left him dumbfounded. With one last glance to their party, you followed Jason, trotting, then cantering away and back into your borders. Once you passed your soldiers’ road control, you slowed down to a walk.

“Huh” Roy exhaled as he leaned forward to glance at you over Jason’s horse between you two. “I didn’t know we had spies in other kingdoms”

“Now that I think about it,” Jason blinked a few times, his brows slightly furrowed. “Neither did I”

You shrugged. “Maybe we have them. That would be neat”

You saw confusion, then astonishment flash in their eyes like their reactions were synchronized.

“Wait, did you just--”

“Did you fucking lie to Bruce in his face?” Roy cut off, almost yelling. Then, he laughed. “In his face?”

“By the time he realizes, no, if he even realizes I bluffed, we’ll have a solid plan to ward him off, no matter what he does” You explained. “We win”

“How did you manage to convince him?” Jason had an innocent incomprehension written all over his features, like a child in front of a magic trick. He was adorable. “You had me convinced”

“Oh, boys” You grinned. “You think women survive this long in the world without becoming excellent liars? How do you think I managed to infiltrate the staff for a week before we invaded the castle?”

“By… Um” Roy trailed off. “Cleaning well?”

You laughed. “People had questions, my dear. I had to build myself a credible life to feed them, so I wasn’t thrown out of the castle instantly. Lying to the enemy is a skill I learned to cultivate a long time ago”

“You’re awesome, you know that?” He sighed, a loopy smile on his face. Jason still had a starstruck expression on his face, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

“Wouldn’t hurt to hear it again, I must admit” You teased back, jutting your chin up. “But there is one thing that would be better… Last one in the bedroom owes the first one a shoulder massage”

You didn’t wait for them to register your words before kicking your horse to a gallop, no doubt closely followed by them.

---

The dancing light of the candles of the chandelier left a soft glow on your naked skin, moving around and spreading warmth as it crawled up and down your body. You were sitting upright as hands moved gently on your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive area of your still healing wound. In your laps was Jason’s head, your hands threading slowly in his black hair as his eyes were shut close. He wasn’t sleeping, his breathing made his chest rise too fast for him to be. But he was relaxed, his neck muscles were untensed on your legs and there were no harsh lines on his face.

You looked behind you when Roy’s hand stopped massaging, pulling your hair to the side and kissing the back of your neck.

“You really gotta get a faster horse” Your lips curved upwards. “You’re always losing these races”

“I think my horse’s speed is just fine” He whispered back. “Besides, you are both right where I want you to be”

Jason smirked. “Losing is always suddenly part of someone’s plan when they never win”

“Laugh all you want” He sighed, dramatically laying down on his side beside you, then leaning forward close to Jason’s ear. “We all know I end up winning anyway when you beg my name like a prayer, My King”

You could feel the shiver travel up his spine on your laps, as well as the sudden shift in the tension in his muscles. You played along and let your hand slightly pull his hair, which surprised a moan out of him. His eyes opened wide, the blue of his irises being quickly consummated by the black of his pupils. Then, his glance set on Roy, something hard to read beside the promising spark in it.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a, what, fourth go at it today?” He raised an eyebrow as his hand brushed his cheek. “I didn’t think you jaw recovered from earlier”

You laughed airily as Roy grinned mischievously. “Maybe you can take that voice when you put that brat child in its place” You suggested as you trailed up your hand up Jason’s bare chest. “I’m sure he would be happy to get back on his knees if you did”

Roy groaned at the suggestion, already imagining the whole scene behind his fluttering eyelids. However, Jason didn’t quite follow up on his reaction. “Don’t tempt me with…” He trailed off, then noticed the mood change. “Hey, is there something wrong?”

Jason blinked, then shook his head and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine” He muttered, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Roy’s lips.

“No, something’s bothering you” He insisted gently. “What is it, Jay?”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing” He replied, looking up to the ceiling. “Don’t worry about it”

“It’s clearly not nothing” You said as your hands threaded softly in his hair. “What’s eating at you?”

A silence followed your words. It was like Jason was searching for the right words, like he wanted to say it so bad but something else was holding him back. You were patient, however, and you didn’t mind that he took his time to tell you. You knew he would talk when he’s ready.

“It’s what Bruce said” Roy beat him to it, speaking barely over a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

You looked in between the two men, noticing how Jason did not deny Roy’s words. It was like they were having a silent conversation for a few seconds, before Roy put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s how he didn’t see him as part of his family anymore” Roy spoke up, addressing you this time. “How Bruce didn’t seem to have any regret about replacing him in any way possible”

“Even after all this time” Jason gulped. “He won’t even stop reminding me he didn't care”

“Oh, my love” You reached for his hand and grabbed it, intertwining your fingers with his and giving it a squeeze. “He doesn’t deserve you beating yourself up about him like that. You’re worth so much more than anything he could even give you”

“She’s right,” Roy nodded. “We’re your family now, not him. Not him ever again. And I promise you we’ll never betray you that way, we’ll never set you aside. You’re our lover, you’re our King, you’re the most important person for us, and we would do anything for you”

You could see the crystal gleam of tears pooling in his eyes before he blinked them away, resisting the urge to break down. Jason had not often known true affection until he met Roy, then you. He felt like he didn’t deserve either of you, and sometimes he wondered why exactly you decided everyday to stay by his side. But you did stay, you did support him and guided him when he needed it. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near where he was right now without you.

“You’re both so good to me” He whispered, adoration clear in his voice as he glanced at you, then Roy. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be wonderful either way” You smiled as you slipped beside him, careful not to pull on your bandages. Soon enough, Roy joined him on the other side, snuggling into him. “You’d miss on major cuddling, however”

His chest rose in a silent chuckle as he pulled you and Roy just a little bit closer. “Give yourselves more credit, I’d crash and burn without you both by my side”

“Let’s not bother with what ifs, yeah?” Roy replied, his lips curved upward as he kissed his shoulder. “It only matters that you’re here with us today, and that you are a damn good King. The rest doesn’t matter”

“The rest doesn’t matter” Jason repeated in a mutter, nodding lightly. “Only you. Only us”

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birdy-bat-writes · 3 years

Text

Library Dates with the Batboys

Books fill shelves all over Wayne manor, but there’s just another charm about the manor library, and who else better to enjoy it with than our favourite Batboys?

A/N: Hello precious human and other creatures! This is the first thing I’ve written after a long time and I’m honestly not sure how i feel about it. I wrote down this idea ages ago but never elaborated on it until now and I may be a little rusty. I might rewrite this later and add Bruce, Duke, Babs, Cass and other characters. I’d still really appreciate any feedback! Comments and reblogs make my heart happy. Please Enjoy!

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Jason Todd

◦ Jason takes you to the section of the library Bruce had built for him when he was Robin and shows you his collection.

◦ He normally reads laying in your lap with you against a wall. Sometimes he'll have you read Sherlock Holmes to him and you'll look down at him with his eyes closed as he mouths the words that he memorized from the novel.

◦ You’ll occasionally read out an incorrect word or skip a sentence just to watch his eyes open and look up to you as you smile at his reaction.

◦ Jason’s library is a section of Wayne Manor that connects to the main Manor library (which is bloody huge) and also holds an entrance to the Batcave through a series of passageways.

◦ Sometimes Jason will just take you by the hand and run off into the tunnels with you. It’s like your own little peaceful space, cordoned off from the rest of life’s trials and troubles.

◦ The two of you will sit in silence in the warm light from the windows, never on chairs, always on the floor, just enjoying each other’s company and the delights of literature.

Damian Wayne

◦ You and Damian always sit on the topmost floor of the library right by the windows in the back, hidden in a corner by the bookshelves.

◦ You have a little stack of books you chose and even pulled up little bean bag chairs.

◦ The only people who know about your secret place are you two and the animals who sometimes sneak up and cuddle with you.

◦ Damian usually tends to wear a face of indifference in front of people. He’ll smile and frown and smirk most of all but you will rarely if ever catch pure, unchecked emotion in his expressions. Except for when he’s reading.

◦ It’s one of the main reasons he perches up in this little corner. He doesn’t want anyone else to see him gasp and widen his eyes when a plot twist is revealed, or smile like an idiot when two characters finally become a couple (so basically he’s us when we read fanfiction). You of course, are an exception to this.

◦ Damian feels safe with you. Safe enough to be open with you and share his emotions with you. Safe enough to take you to his special place.

◦ Sometimes the two of you don’t even want to read. You’ll just go up there and watch the snow fall outside the windows and Damian will reminisce about his days in the mountains. Or you’ll bask in the first light of the glowy sun after a long winter.

◦ The best days are when you fall asleep reading, and Damian will put a bookmark in your book for you. Then, he carries you to your room and dozes off with you.

◦ The two of you have matching bookmarks that he made for you. Little watercolor scenes of your favorite park and the café you went to for your first date.

Tim Drake

◦ You and Tim and have a tent where you like to read.

◦ On special occasions, Tim puts fairy lights in there. The tent is behind a couch on the first floor of the manor library

◦ It was originally built from blankets and pillows and then eventually turned into a real tent (the original may or may not have been destroyed in a pillow-fight over Harry Potter storylines).

◦ Tim doesn’t really know when to stop working. He’s one of those people who will burn himself out in the cave or in school and he never really knew how to recharge when he finally did take a break.

◦ One day, he came home from school and Bruce decided that he should skip patrol for a few days and recuperate. After a long nap, he woke up with the urge to do something, and in an attempt to prevent him from working, you dragged him off to the library.

◦ You made it a habit to take him there once a week, forcefully if need be. He began to love the quality time with you and the peaceful serenity of the library so much that he gets there before you sometimes.

◦ You have a little book club almost. You both read the same book so you can talk about it with each other.

◦ Some days, you’re just too exhausted to focus on the pages, and being the sweetheart that he is, he lays your head on his chest and reads aloud to you. It makes your day when you hear him audibly gasp or change his tone when the chapter takes a turn.

◦ Of course, you two happen to be “just one more page” people. You never get enough sleep. But at least you finished the book. :D

Dick Grayson

◦ Dick and you are more or less sane.

◦ Dick sits with you at the long wooden tables in the library and reads. Sometimes he'll get up and bring you coffee or hot chocolate.

◦ On occasion he'll look up from his book to see your vivid expressions as a result of reading a dramatic scene. He lives for your nose scrunches and the goofy grins you wear when you read something sweet.

◦ You like to look up from your books to admire the architecture of the manor, as well as your boyfriend's handsome features. You remember reading a remarkably detailed description if a beautiful library in a book and looking up at the ceiling of the manor library. Your eyes wandered to the woodwork on the shelves and the rows upon rows of books heading up until you reach the window-lit ceiling. Although you didn’t know it yet, Dick looked up from his book to admire the wonder in your eyes.

◦ He loved these days. It’s not that well-known but he loves to read. The two of you met in a library while he was on a case and you were trying to pass your midterms. One thing led to another and here you are.

◦ When you finally catch his stare, you blush and look at him questioningly. “What…?”

◦ “You’re really cute, you know that?”

◦ *more blushing*

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anjuschiffer · 4 years

Text

Amira Wayne - Chapter 4

I’m running out of pre-written chapters :’D

Day 4 of @biodad-bruce-month event!

Chapter 4: Habits

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

School wasn’t the same without Jason around.

The ride to school was silent, the rain falling that morning didn’t help. If anything, it only made Amira feel colder.

Walking the halls without him by his side was torture, Amira missing his banter over the latest book he was reading. Their banter of the pronunciation of a word they were learning in spanish class. How did she ever deal with the solitude and whispers behind her back when she used to be by herself?

Gym class was terrifying, Amira finding herself leaning against the wall as everyone else got into groups to play dodgeball. Some groups avoided her gaze while some looked at her and sneered. That’s right. Amira only played with Jason since he never held back simply because she was a girl. He was the only one who treated her as an equal. He was the only one who was willing to pair with her, no one else never daring to approach them.

All her other classes seemed to go the same way, finding herself alone and in a corner of the room or isolated from the groups formed during science.

Lunch was something she never knew she would dread. It felt like everyone watched her every move. That she was judged with each step she took. No longer being able to bear the torture, Amira ran to the school library, ignoring the looks she got as she ran there.

Slumping into a lone cubicle on the second floor of the library, Amira looked around. There was no one else there, only a librarian at the front desk.

She took out her workbook, deciding to do something with her uneasy mind. And if anything, she could stay here until the school day ended. Father would understand.

She didn’t know how long she had been there, how engrossed she was with her work until she got a tap on the shoulder. Amira quickly grabbed the hand, bending a finger back.

“A..mira, it’s me. Dick.” She quickly let go, averting her gaze from him.

“Dick? How did you find me?” Amira asked, dumping her things into her bag. “And sorry.”

“It’s alright. And the dismissal bell rang half an hour ago. As to how I found you, a classmate of yours saw you run out of the school lunchroom. Said I might find you here.” Dick explained, soothing his finger.

Richard watched as Amira averted her gaze, Richard noticing her digging her nails into her palm. “Amira, you alright?” When she didn’t respond, he sighed. “Sorry, that was stupid of me to ask.”

He didn’t expect Amira to hold his hand, her grasp tight.

“He’s gone forever, isn’t he?” Richard heard her voice crack, watching a tear slip down her face. “He won’t ever come back, right?”

Dick quickly brought her closer to him, letting her cry into his uniform. He stood there quietly, patting her head as she continued to cry. “Don’t leave me alone either Richard! Don’t leave me! Don’t go!”

“I will try, Amira. I will try.”

When Amira asked Dick to never leave her, she didn’t mean this.

During the evening, Dick would help Amira with her homework or if he was in a patrol, he would talk to her through the comms.

During the short weekend, he would take her out to go shopping, of course, with Alfred accompanying them.

Then came the school week.

That Monday morning, Dick patted her head before the two headed to their respective classrooms, some of the girls in her class asking how she knew him. Turns out that despite the clear age gap (and being in different buildings), some of her classmates were captivated by his charm.

What did Jason call it? Charisma? She forgot.

During lunch, Dick barged into the lunchroom and found her, dragging her to his classroom where he would introduce her to his friends, as in, his entire class.

“This is Marinette! She’s a very close friend of mine! Practically my sister from other parents!” Dick said with a grin, ruffling Amira’s hair as he did so.

The girls in his class cooed, buttering Amira in hopes of gaining her brother’s favor.

“Guys, leave the poor girl alone. She needs her space.” A girl sitting away from the group said, Amira looking to see who it was. She didn’t realize she was staring until the girl beckoned her to come closer. “Hi, name’s Barbara Gordon. What’s yours?”

“Marinette.” Amira said. “Marinette Dupain. I’m part of the middle school wing, grade 7.”

“Dupain? Like the bakery-”

“Yes!” Amira said, quickly rambling about the bakery, not noticing how Dick smiled as he watched her lighten up.

Maybe he should bring her over more often.

The next few days were definitely different for Amira.

Out of school, Amira would be joining Dick at the Cave, learning a few basic gymnast skills. Learning flips and other tricks were exhilarating, Amira absorbing the new skills easily.

Sometimes, some of Dick’s friends would join in, Amira quickly taking a liking to Wally out of three of them, no offense to Garth and Vic. Perhaps because Wally was the one who made sure to make her feel included that caused Amira to grow a soft spot for him. Whenever he would come over, Amira always made sure to have cookies ready for him.

She enjoyed the smile that would radiate off him, Amira always looking forward towards his next visit.

At school, Amira would go over to Dick’s classroom to talk with Babs during lunch.

(That was Amira’s name for her, although she didn’t dare to call Barbara by that nickname. They weren’t exactly close friends...yet.)

She adored talking to Babs about the latest pastry or about Babs’ father’s latest case. (Amira found it hilarious that their dads respected each other both in and out of work.)

It’s been a solid month since she began merging into this new routine, Amira practically skipping as she made her way to see Babs. Just as she was about to make her way inside, she was quickly pulled back, Amira now face to face with a kid...her age? But one thing was for certain, she had seen him before...but where? Surely she would remember a kid that carried a portable camera-

Timothy Jackson Drake. The Drakes only son...only child.

The only reason she remembered him was due to the newspaper she found on the dining table her father left behind that morning. Something about his mother was the headline of the paper.

“You’re Marinette, right?” He asked her, Amira wondering what he wanted with her. This was the first time both children ever spoke to each other.

“I am. Do I-”

“Name’s Tim -Tim Drake- from the elementary wing, grade 5. Anyways, I’ve been wanting to ask you something. Where’s Jason?” He asked, Amira feeling her heart drop. “I’ve noticed that-”

Amira knew that the boy kept talking about something, but she didn’t know what exactly.

Jason’s name just kept echoing within her head, Amira’s head replaying the past month in her mind.

How did she forget about Jason? Why did she forget about Jason? How dare she forget him?!

“-Mimi! Mimi, please, listen to me!” Amira registered a voice, a voice she always heard. “Amira, please, talk to me!” It was big brother.

Amira looked at Dick, his eyes wide with panic, Amira registering the tears that dared to slip from him.

Without another word, Amira hugged him, her grasp on his school jacket tightening as her mind slipped back to Jason.

“I didn’t mean to forget him! I didn’t mean to! I swear!” Amira sobbed, hating that she was breaking down at school, hating that everyone saw her at her most vulnerable point. Hating herself for forgetting Jason. “He probably hates me for forgetting about him. He hates me…”

“It’s alright Amira. It’s alright.” She heard Dick whisper to her, watching as the two left the school grounds. “He would never hate you Amira. He loved you too much to ever gate you.” Dick reassured.

That was the last time Amira ever saw Gotham Academy.

Ever since Amira broke down at school, she remained cooped up in her room, not letting anyone enter it, not even Alfred.

Dick had tried to coax her to come out by telling her that Wally had come over to talk to her, but Amira didn’t budge from her room.

Not until Bruce asked her to come to his study to talk.

“Did you want to speak to me, Father?” Amira asked, closing the door behind her.

She knew why she was there. She knew why her father called her to his study.

After all, it wasn’t that easy to create a cover story of why Dick and Amira came home while school was still in session. It was especially hard when the school called Bruce, asking about the whereabouts of the two of them.

“Amira. Take a seat.” Bruce said as he motioned to the open space in front of him. It’s been a while since she had been at her father's study, noticing the new window seats. They weren’t there the last time she stepped foot into his study. Then again, the last time she did was when…

Now that she thought about it, Amira couldn’t help but look at her father.

Despite the dim lightning of the study, Amira could easily see the worn out features on her father. His eyes were shrouded in darkness, circles deeper than ever, the bags under his eyes darker than before.

The corners of his eyes were red and tired, her father’s lips now forever in a frown.

How could she forget? How stupid was she to think that she was the only one suffering when clearly, her father was too? What about Dick then? Was he also-? And Alfred...

Amira shook the thought from her mind, deciding to pile up the cushions into a corner and taking a seat, letting her back lightly touch the pile. It was only then that she noticed her old Batman plushie.

“I thought...I thought this was thrown out.” Amira said, picking up the old thing, the colors faded, Amira running her fingers over the stitched up arm.

“It was, until I asked Alfred if I could keep it.” Bruce said, letting a sigh leave him. “Sometimes, it's hard to let go of the past.” Amira remained silent, letting her head hang. So this is why he called her to his study.

Amira listened as her father drifted to his memories of when he ventured the world. Of how he met her mother. (That was the first time he actually talked about her to Amira. Sure, he would mention her mother’s small quirks, but Father never told her stories about her.) Of how he met Amira...as an infant.

How Bruce kept making mistake after mistake, wanting to give up various times as he found himself lost. How he thought he wasn’t enough to help raise Amira, that he wasn’t fit for the job.

How he found his efforts finally being rewarded in the shape of Amira growing into the girl she was now. For Dick finally being able to flourish despite his parents’ death. How Jason was able to have a better life once Bruce took him in.

“Where did I go wrong?” Bruce asked, looking out the window. “What did I do that caused-“

“You did nothing wrong.” Amira reassured. “You did nothing wrong Dad. If anything, you always did your best to make sure we were fed, clothed...safe. We couldn’t have asked for a better father.”

Amira sat there in silence for what seemed like minutes before Bruce looked at her.

“But clearly, that wasn’t enough.” Bruce said, getting up from his seat. “I’m sending you to Paris.”

#maribat #b!dbwm2020 #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio!dadbrucewaynemonth2020

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Text

Empires on the Horizon XI

Jason is a CEO: Part XI

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

This chapter is hella long. Please enjoy!

everything flashes

so fast passed your eyes

you cannot quite make out

the difference

between

cameras, lightning, and

life.

-badpoetry

“Drew my darling,” Jason smiled through the phone, “I am beyond elated you’re getting married but how am I supposed to find a suit for your wedding if my favourite suit shop is closed?”

Her sweet laugh floated through his speaker, “Maybe we have a surprise for you Mr. Grace.”

“You didn’t?” He gasped, “Tell me you didn’t!”

A lyrical voice further away from the phone yelled, “Oh yes we did Jason Grace and you’re gonna accept it! You do so much for us it’s only right we get to pay you back.”

He knew when not to argue so he muttered a disbelieving thank you and hung up with the reassurance that the suit would arrive within the next day or two. He flopped down on the couch in his office and pulled his laptop towards him. An unfinished email flashed on his screen, but his mind was occupied with other things. Things that involved very unrelated work thoughts. Zoe had been at his place for a week and although they both usually craved their own spaces living with her had been bliss, and exciting, and delightful.

His phone vibrated from wherever he chucked it.

Zoe: Watcha doing?

Jason: I should be working.

Zoe: What do you mean should be?

Jason: Have certain morning activities reeling through my mind

*Zoe is calling*

He barked out a laugh, answering the call and stopped laughing at the words she whispered.

“HAZE!” He yelled, rushing out of the office, “I’m going home. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

“Okay Boss. Say hello to Zo for me.”

He was already in the elevator and wondering how seconds could feel like forever. He caught his reflection in the silvery walls and wanted to laugh. Cheeks pink with excitement and eyes glittering with mischief. He felt like a kid again, like living.

When he finally arrived at home Zoe was lying on the bed. He was about to jump on top of her and smother her in kisses, but he noticed her soft breathing and unusually still body. Tiptoeing around the room he smiled when he saw her face. Fast asleep. He pieced together that she must have taken her meds, since it was just after lunch. Brushing a kiss over her forehead he disappeared into the bathroom to change into sweats and then gently lowered himself next to her. If he was going to be here, he might as well do some work.

A surprisingly productive hour later he finally decided to screw the work thing and just have a nap alongside his girlfriend. Chucking his laptop aside he scooted down in the bed and wrapped an arm around her. She groaned softly, grabbing his fingers and then settled back down. He couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him, but his amusement was short lived.

“No dad,” Zoe mumbled, “Don’t make me ma– don’t make me do it. Please.”

“Zo?” He peered over her shoulder to see her eyes still shut.

“Dad, stop I don’t want to do this!” She was yelling now, scratching at his arm.

“ZO!” He tried.

“Please dad just let me– PLEASE!” Her cheeks were damp and the anguish in her voice made his heart race.

“Zoe, baby please!” He shook her shoulders. “Stella, ZOE!”

She got up with a gasp. Jason stumbled out of bed and raced to get water.

“Here,” He offered her the shaking cup.

“Th– thank you.”

“Were you having a nightmare?”

“Yea,” She winced, “They– they don’t happen very often but sometimes when I’m extremely emotional they bombard me.”

“Are you okay? Do you need something?”

“I’m good, I think.” She took a deep breath, “Just hold me for a little while?”

He simply held out his arms for her to crawl into them. When they settled into the bed again, his back against the headboard and her between his legs, he kissed her gently.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, do you?”

“I just have one question and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

A small nod was the only answer.

“What does your dad want you to do?”

Her sharp inhale made his chest tighten but he looked into her brown eyes.

“It’s a deal we made. Neither of us were willing to compromise on our plans so he struck a deal with me.”

“Okay.” He mumbled and then grazed his lips over her shoulder and let his head rest in the crook of her head.

“That’s it? No more questions?”

“I said I’d only ask one.”

“But you don’t want to know what the deal was?” He could hear the surprise in her voice.

“I want to know what you’re willing to tell me. We’ve only been dating for half a year. We have countless hours to learn each other’s secrets.”

“You are amazing in so many beautiful ways.” She sighed, pulling him towards her.

He laughed into their kiss and let the smile play at his lips for… everything after that. When they went to sleep that night, her lean frame tucked into him he thanked the stars blinking through the chiffon curtains. Thanked them for bringing her to him, for letting her light be the one that guides him, letting her spark be the one that ignites him, thanked them for letting her come down from her home in the cosmos to help him rise. And he’s almost certain the stars blink back in acknowledgment, just before sleep drags him under.

***

“You ready baby?” He called from his closet as he straightens his tie.

She echoed from the bathroom, “Yea I think so, let me just put on my earrings.”

“If we leave now, we should get there by quarter to,” He mumbled to himself.

“We’re not going to be late, worrier.” A voice teased him.

He turned around and stumbled back, falling on his ottoman with a thump.

“Wow.” He mumbled, “You look…” There were no words in any language to describe how she looked. He tried anyway, “You look godly.”

Her dress was silk the colour of burnt orange and the way it looked on her reminded him of sunsets. He was sure the greatest artists in history could never imagine something so beautiful. He was positive the word ethereal was invented in her honour.

“Amor meus amplior quam verba est.” He whispered; eyes still wide with adoration. He didn’t want to blink and risk losing her to the skies.

“What does that mean?” Her voice was equally soft.

“My love is more than words.”

She jumped into his arms and held him close enough that their hearts became one beat.

“Thank you.” She said into his collar, “And you look gorgeous.”

He pulled her back to stare at her, unable to look at anything else. “If we ever get married, please will you wear this colour to our reception.”

She smiled, and it was dazzling, “Let’s go my Thyella.”

So they did, and if you asked anyone who saw them, they would have told you that couple looked like royalty. Like the Queen and her King. Him, in a suit of the deepest blue, with the same burnt orange silk lining the lapels and cuffs of his jacket. And her, in her dress made of sunstones, eyes that rivalled the galaxy. The sky and its stars.

They arrived at the wedding venue sometime later, the garden already buzzing with activity.

“Hello Miss Arellano,” He hugged his lawyer.

“Jason! How are you?”

“Better than brownies.”

“That’s almost an impossibility.” Percy Jackson saddled up to the group with his usual mischief-maker’s smile.

“Zoe, darling.” The women embraced. “How are you feeling?”

“Less like I got stabbed which is nice.”

Percy snorted, “Glad to hear it Miss Nightshade. You really gave us a scare there.”

“Tell me about it.” Jason put a hand over his heart.

She shoved at his shoulder, “Where is the rest of this trouble-finder crew?”

“I see Haze and Frank now,” Reyna waved to a couple in the distance.

“And Leo and Annabeth should be here soon. Valdez had an emergency at the varsity. I do not know what constitutes as an emergency and I do not plan on asking.” He added.

Hazel’s golden smile graced them, “Hello you lot, you all look like you just stepped out of the pages of a magazine.”

“We are the hottest group, aren’t we?” His lawyer smirked.

“You can say that again!” Annabeth Chase laughed.

They all made small talk for a few minutes, making sure Zoe was okay and catching up on everything they had missed in the month since the club. A bell tinkled further down the garden and the guests started making their way to their seats.

“Guess it’s time to see the happy trio.” He smiled.

“How long have you known them?” Zoe asked as they sat down.

“Charlie I’ve known since college and ‘Lena and Drew since he’s introduced them. Which was about six years ago now?”

“Wow, long-time friends.”

“Spend enough 3am study sessions with people and you learn to bond for life.” He grinned.

The music started playing as their conversation gave way to anticipation and everyone turned to the aisle.

We can leave the Christmas lights up till January

This is our place we make the rules

And there’s a dazzling haze

A mysterious way about you dear

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years

The gentle notes wafted through the rose scented air and clung to their skin, letting it be the glow that caught the light. The groom walked out. He looked beautiful. Dark skin golden under the sun and a smile to rival the full moon. He waved at everyone, as Charlie would do. Always a friend. When he got to the front, they all spotted the look of exhilaration in his brown eyes.

“They’re coming,” Zoe whispered.

And then two ladies walked slowly down the grassy path. Silena in a pale pink satin dress and a flower crown resting on her head and Drew in a matching lavender number, a small tiara perched on her black hair.

“Unbelievable.”

All Jason could do was nod as he watched his friends walk towards each other. Watched them burst with happiness right before his eyes. His mind flashed back to the early days when he and Charles used to sit in the library crying over stress and loneliness. Finding solace only in their own comforting words. And he couldn’t help but shed a few tears as the trio reached each other and began forever.

The ceremony was over before he could blink and there was a flurry of activity as everyone took pictures with the brides and groom. He managed to talk to them briefly, spreading congratulations and general joy.

“Jase,” Silena pulled him aside, “The suit looks wonderful.”

“Thank you, my friend,” He hugged her, long and hard. “And you, all of you, look stunning.”

“It’s been a long time coming,” Her smile was gentle, but the tears in her eyes held every emotion she couldn’t display.

“Is everything set up at the field?”

“Everything is perfect,” Charles winked, catching up to them.

“What did you plan, Dannasan?” Drew raised a perfect brow.

“Nothing that needs your worrying, o angelhos mou.”

Jason laughed as the newlyweds narrowed their eyes at each other. “I’ll see you guys at the reception.”

They thanked him once more and said their last goodbyes before shuffling off to the next round of pictures. He found the rest of his people standing near the car park, waiting for him.

Zoe’s face lit up as she spotted him, “You ready?”

“Yea,” He hugged her to him, “Want to head home first or?”

“Percy and Reyna were going to Reedpipes to chill till six, you want to go with them?”

“Everyone else?”

“We’re going back to the varsity because Leo still needs to sort out the lab.” Annabeth looked at him with an ‘I’ll explain later look’.

“And you Frank, Hazel?”

“We aren’t coming to the reception. I have to visit gran before Hazel and I head out tomorrow for our weekend trip.”

“Well alright then, guess we’re going to Reedpipes.”

The group dispersed with hugs and kisses and promises to meet up again soon. Zoe hugged them tightly, and his throat tightened at the comfortableness she had found in them.

Jason put a hand behind the front seat, checking behind him before reversing onto the road and making his way to their favourite café.

“That was such a beautiful wedding.” His girlfriend sighed.

“There’s just something about weddings isn’t there?” He hummed, “Makes you want to get down on one knee and propose?”

She laughed, winking at him, “Don’t get any ideas, you don’t know all my secrets remember.”

“Can’t imagine any of them stopping me.” He kissed her knuckles, adoration flowing like never-ending fountains.

Something passed over her face, pain or contemplation he didn’t know. And he was about to ask when she squeezed his thigh and smirked at him. All thoughts were forgotten.

They arrived at Reedpipes before Reyna and Percy and decided to head inside to grab a table. Zoe asked if they’d get weird looks for looking so dressed up in a coffee shop but laughed and said, “Welcome to the city!”

As always, his conversations with Grover Underwood left him reeling.

“Well don’t you look like royalty Grace.” The barista’s brown eyes sparkled, “And this must be the woman who keeps the sun in your soul.”

Zoe blushed and muttered a hello.

“Grover,” Amusement played across his features, “How are you?”

“Lovely thank you. What can I get you today?”

“Surprise me.” He shrugged.

Grover looked at him, eyes widening ever so slightly. “You’re letting me choose?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Mr Grace,” The man looked about ready to bowl over. “I feel you should introduce me to your lady friend immediately because in the eight years you’ve come here you have never ordered anything but a chai, americano, or a cappuccino, and now you want me to choose?”

He giggled at the surprise coating the air, “Grover this is Zoe Nightshade. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Ma’am,” Grover reaches over to shake her hand earnestly, “I have never seen him be anything but a creature of habit in all the years I’ve known him. Please marry him.”

Jason cut in, “Oh I plan to.”

His girlfriend laughed, short and mischievous, “Nice to meet you Grover.”

“What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a black coffee and a toasted cheese sandwich please.”

They eventually found their way to a table, and just in time because almost as soon as they sat down Percy and Reyna walked in.

“Hello again, how absolutely gorgeous was that wedding?” Reyna sighed contentedly.

“So beautiful!”

“Gods Perc,” She turned to her boyfriend, “If we ever get married, I want that purple colour Drew was wearing to be the theme.”

“Can we do a blue as well?” Percy smiled at her softly.

“What kind of blue?”

“A blue like…” He looked around, eyebrows furrowing as he scanned the room. “Blue like…” He caught Jason’s eyes and trailed off. They stared at each other and something in his chest sparked. Percy blinked and the world came back into focus.

“Blue like the sky.”

“Yes!” She squealed, “Your colours Zo?”

“Jason wants me to wear this colour to the reception.” She motioned to her dress.

“Oh gods yes,” Reyna gave an approving nod, “That with white or cream would be so beautiful.”

Their coffees got set down and they spent the remainder of the time chatting casually, fully, happily. Jason felt like a summer breeze, like the soft winds dancing with the willow tree, like wonder. His life was so beautifully different from the one he had last year this time and he marvelled over the workings of the universe. How did he get so lucky?

The hours passed by in a gentle rush and soon they were all piling back into cars and heading to the field where the reception would be held. The field was one of great importance to him. When he discovered it some years ago, after a particularly bad fight with Luke, he had instantly fallen in love with it. There was something so grounding about the open air and the soft grass and the flowers that grew wild. He had stayed there for hours whenever he needed to be alone, when he needed to look up at the sky and remember no matter how much his life changes, he will always be able to look up a the same sun, moon and stars. He will be able to watch the trees grow and the flowers bloom and remember life is only as complicated as you make it. The day he found a “Development Site” board cutting off the entrance to the park he had panicked so hard he needed his inhaler for the first time in ten years. And then he had promptly called up the company demolishing the area and bought it from them at a disgustingly high price. Some things though were worth it. And what was the point of making money if he couldn’t use it to protect that which cannot protect itself. He named it the Fields of Prosperina and opened it to the public under the condition they would do no harm and leave nothing but footprints behind. He also had a team of people who helped maintain the small facilities and make sure nothing was getting destroyed. Under city regulations, officials had to come in twice a year, once in summer and once in winter, to make sure none of the native species were becoming endangered within the area.

They drove into the gravelled parking and he couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him. The space was like something from a fairy tale. Lanterns hung from trees casting a warm yellow glow over the world. Flowers weaved around every chair and over the fairy lights hanging above them. Zoe’s awe was audible as she trailed her hands over the tinkling charms at the entrance and the bright petals laid out on the table. He spotted the huge wooden structure with a screen and a projector attached to it. Gods Charlie, he thought, you really outdid yourself this time. It’s a dream.

The newlyweds came out to applauds and hollering and the party began. Speeches were sweet and tearful and full of jokes; and the dinner was sublime. He moaned with every bite of the chocolate brownie and didn’t feel weird because every single person at their table did the same thing. Finally it was time for the first dance and three glowing people walked into the cleared space, illuminated with the glimmer of moonlight and the soft flickering of the lanterns.

Ballerina girl You are so lovely With you standing there I'm so aware Of how much I care for you

The song washed over the crowd as the three came together, arms wrapped around waists, and started swaying softly. As one they moved across the floor, as one they laughed and cried, and put their heads together. As one they danced.

“Why this song?” Zoe’s voice was nothing but air against his skin.

“Drew and Silena were dancers in varsity. That’s how Charlie met them. He saw a show of theirs and fell in love.”

“Do they still dance?”

“Not that I know of, but I think they want to open a ballet school at some point.”

“They’re angelic.”

Ballerina girl You are so lovely I can see in you My dreams come true Don't you ever go away Ballerina Girl...

The song faded away and Drew grabbed the mic with a brilliant smile on her face, “LETS PARTY!”

The crowd got up with a loud cheer and poured onto the floor. He grabbed his girlfriend’s hand and they raced to the center, their friends not far behind. The night was young, and the colours were golden and time was nothing but a way to count how many times you can smile in a second.

Many songs and a break to grab some water later Charlie requested the music to stop for a little. “Hello everyone. Seeing your beautiful faces makes me extremely emotional and if I was wearing my eyeliner, I’d be cursing you all for making it smudge. Thank the gods my mascara is waterproof.”

They all laughed, and harder when his wives made a funny face beside him.

“Today may be the happiest day of my life but I know tomorrow will be even happier because I cannot imagine life being anything else with these two by my side for forever.” He kissed them both, love overflowing from his eyes.

“And to commemorate the joy and never-ending brightness they’ve brought into our lives I’ve compiled a little video with the help of you guys. Thank you for making this day so special. I know even when I am old and greying it will play in my mind like a dream. To mis corazones, I will always love you enough to keep the fire in your souls. This is for you.”

The video started with their smiling faces and as memory after memory reeled across the screen the tears flowed in abundance. Little messages from people popped up on as the pictures flashed. A video of Drew and Silena laughing at a picnic they all went on four years ago in this very field played on screen. The trio held each other tighter and whispered something that ended on a sob of gratefulness. Zoe wiped Jason’s cheeks, kissing him softly.

“Someday Zo,” He mumbled, leaning into her. The music started up again and he wrapped his arm around her waist as the video faded into the background, as everything faded away.

Fatal, this attraction, yeah we might just end up crashin' But I'm ready if it happens with you Meet me out in Cali when I'm far away from family And I need someone to hold onto

She hugged him tighter, the music seeping into their lungs. He could feel her heartbeat against his own, like twin drums, rapid, racing. He hummed along, let his lips skim over her skin. Life was faraway but the stars swayed under his hands and the night sky glittered with luxury.

We could burn and crash We could take a chance Holdin' nothin' back Like it's our last dance

Zoe clung to him like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. There was a flash of light and a faded thank you. The photographer was already on to the next couple, but they were immortalised in that memory card.

“Jase,” She whispered.

He pulled back slightly so he was staring into her, “What’s wrong my stella?”

“I-“ She breathed, “I have to tell you something.”

“Are you alright?” She looked so scared, sad. “Do you want to leave?”

“My dad came to visit me while I was in hospital.”

“Oh gods Zo,” He pulled her to him, “Are you okay? He didn’t say anything did he?”

“Our deal is up,” Her body was shaking with sobs, “I have to go home.”

“No!” His lungs collapsed, “No, what? No.”

“I asked for more time, but he said no.” Her eyes fractured.

“Why can’t you stay here why do you have to go? Is that the deal you made?” This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. He can’t do this.

“I was supposed to start a practice of my own,” She choked, “Something that would make him money. That was the only way I could move out of the house.”

“But can’t you just start one now? I’ll give you capital if that’s what you need? We can go get registered tomorrow.”

She shook her head vigorously, gasping on her words, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

“Stella,” He can’t feel his legs, “Please there has to be another. We have to find a way for you to stay.”

She shook her head, “I can’t stay because–“ Her cry shattered his fractured soul, “I can’t stay because I’m marrying someone else.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’M SORRY!

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts

@leydiangelo

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@msdrpreist

@sparkythunderstorm

@nishlicious-01

@lucyisblue

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 4 years

Text

Atrium - Part Two

Part two of the Library AU for @mistkissedmoon

Part one

————–

Jason walked under the pyramid skylights in the atrium. There was a warm glow filtering in through the large windows on the ceiling. It touched each aisle, filling the rich mahogany bookshelves in turn with sunlight. Funny. It often seemed as though rays of light could only travel through muted grey clouds. Where the library and the manor were concerned. And much of Gotham.

But now, it was radiant. The place hadn’t gotten as much foot traffic or attention in recent years. Though since Raven had come around, it already looked brighter. Alive, even.

It moved him to see the place like this. She had done a fantastic job so far. Jason knew that there was something about her. He could tell from the first time he looked at her that she had come to Wayne Manor with a purpose. Despite the initial mishap about what that purpose entailed, he knew he was right.

Oh.

Speak of the she-devil and she might appear.

Jason could see the slim contour of her body. It was bent toward the desk by the fireplace in the front of the room. Thick, black framed glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose. Fair fingers twining the cord of the old rotary phone as she spoke. She nodded, no doubt, agreeing with the words uttered by the party on the other line. Her profile turned. She was facing him as she replaced the filigree gold and white handset on the switch hook. Scribbling something down quickly. Rachel tapped her cheek twice with the arm of the glasses, before setting them down on the desk.

Black kitten heels echoed through the lofty space, as she drifted over to him. In her black button-down and dark wash denim, she was every bit the picture of casual meets sexy-sophisticated. “Jason.” She had at last dropped the formalities with him. This was something he was increasingly grateful for. Rachel extended an arm with a bag in hand. “Here, for all your efforts.”

“Well, what’s this?” He asked. His fingers furled with deviousness, as he peered into the paper bag peace-offering. Appearing much more enthusiastic, than he should have been, for whatever she handing him. “Looks like I’m getting my compensation in the form of -” He paused. “Is it a severed head? From one of those useless volunteers?”

And surprising him once more, she actually let out a little laugh. “It’s actually lunch. My lunch.” He motioned for her to elaborate, his face split into its usual grin. “Well, Jason. I was wondering if you would split a sandwich with me.”

The grin faltered.

Another fragment of the veneer that kept him concealed, chipped away. There was a surprising amount of vulnerability in that simple request. And in Rachel that moment. She was just a girl standing before a boy asking him if he would… split a sandwich with her. That was it. Yet, he found himself dumbfounded - unable to speak. And it was crazy. It was crazy that a simple request would render him speechless. That he was nearly incapacitated by a single utterance from her. He cleared his throat and repeated her question. “A sandwich - you want me to have your… sandwich?”

Rachel stared honestly and earnestly into Jason’s uncertain and uneasy blue. “Yes…” She nodded. “I get it - Alfred’s food is legendary. Even I know this, with my limited experience with his repertoire… But, I hoped you might still consider it.”

Jason shook his head immediately. “No - no - I… it’s not -” He paused. Then, he tried once more. “Rachel, I would love to share your sandwich.”

The two of them found themselves seated on the hard ground beneath the dark wooden bookcases. Their bodies leaned back on long ladders. Such ladders were normally used for ascending to higher learning. Which, of course, one could take quite literally. After all, wasn’t that the supposed purpose of a library? To allow one to obtain things that appeared out of reach - to make them out of reach no longer.

Maybe this was why it was there they sat. To eat two halves of a pastrami sandwich out of a paper bag.

Jason didn’t mind sitting on the floor at all. He had found it difficult to notice anything aside from the girl next to him, and the richness of the meal she was sharing with him. If Rachel was experiencing discomfort, she hadn’t felt the need to mention it either.

Yet, just across the way from where Rachel had come, was the desk. Not far from it, a ring of comfortable leather chairs situated near the grandfather clock. But, this seemed more fitting. Jason couldn’t shelf certain thoughts in his head. About how normal this seemed. The two of them at ease with one another like this, in one of his favorite rooms in the manor.

“Here…” She fished into the wax paper, and passed him one of the two halves of pickle. “Cheers.” Rachel touched hers to his, a little laughter in the depth of her indigo eyes, and she took a big bite.

Jason took a little bite of his own. “This was, uh, really good, Rachel…” He swallowed.

“Don’t mention it.” She licked the juice from her lips slowly. Unconsciously, his pupils traced her pink tongue.

“I’ve never had a sandwich like this one.” Jason told her. It was true - in some ways more than others. “Did you make it?” He asked her curiously. He was trying not to appear as though he was prying. But he was.

He definitely was.

“That’s because it’s special.” She tilted her head towards him. He could see her loosening up. Her left arm looped through a rung on the ladder. “And no, I bought it. I get these sandwiches from a little store.” The purple-haired girl took another bite of the vert, vinegared vegetable between her fingers. “This hole in the wall Jewish deli my mother used to bring me to when I was young. She’s Jewish.” Rachel’s throat moved as she gulped down a piece. “Every time I need a little pick-me-up, I stop there.” She gestured with the remaining piece of pickle. “Sometimes, I miss it… Those easier times.”

The entire time she spoke, Jason listened to her with rapt attention. For a split second, he stared off into nought. He hadn’t known any of that. Or much of anything about Rachel, really. He hadn’t asked. Until now, he hadn’t asked. But, he knew - he wanted to ask. He wanted to know her. If she was willing, he wanted to know her. But - one thing in particular stood out to him. “Why would you need a pick-me-up?” Rachel stared at the half-eaten pickle in her hand. She took a few thoughtful bites. And chewed it slowly and finished it. “Rachel?”

She turned to him, a somber half smile on her face. “I don’t… know what I’m doing, Jason.”

“What are you talking about, Rachel?” He shook his head. Rachel was the best thing that ever happened to this library. And the single best thing he had seen walk through the manor doors in a long while. She didn’t even know. “That makes no sense to me.”

“Correction - I meant - at all. I don’t know what I’m doing at all…” Rachel sipped from a water bottle, shaking her head slowly. “I mean look around. I can barely find my way around most days and I’m supposed to be the head of the project…” Her voice lowered to a murmur that he could just make out. He slid his own ladder closer, he didn’t want to miss it. “This place, this library - it’s the most amazing private library I’ve ever been in.” Her arms widened to denote its vastness. “It’s been my dream to do a project of this scale. But, this is Wayne Manor - I think I’m in over my head.”

“That's it, Roth.” Jason said seriously and then, he stood up. He dusted himself off and waited. When she didn’t join him, he gave her a quizzical stare. Still seated, she gawked up at him. He tapped his foot, impatiently. “Come on.”

“Come on? Come on, where?” Rachel sounded skeptical. He held out a hand. She lingered for 3 seconds, before she took it. And he gently pulled her to standing, her ponytail fluid with motion; Rachel was within inches of his lips. He followed her line of sight to his mouth. Their warm breath mingled for several moments. Rachel broke first. And she glanced off in the distance, blinking to refocus her gaze. Her other hand slid slowly down his bicep. After a second, his arm reluctantly released her waist. Jason grasped her hand tighter, his fingers weaving tightly into hers.

“I… want to show you something.” He explained.

“Okay…?” She agreed. Though he could tell by the twinkle of mirth in her eyes, that she was more than curious.

“So let’s go - right now.” Without any more warning, he broke into a run. His long legs forced her to sprint along behind him. As he ran, he marveled at his surroundings. Rachel was right, even though he grew up here, the place was truly massive. Like a maze almost. With multiple floors and multiple wings. It had several staircases in each wing and on opposite sides of the atrium.

But its size allowed it to contain its fair share of secrets.

Including his own.

After running for a couple of minutes, darting around shelves, around lamps, and dodging boxes and a book cart, she finally called over the wind in their ears. “Jason, where are we going?” Finally, after two more lefts, he stopped. They were both panting, but he was excited. To show her. “W-what… is this?” They stood before what looked like a large wooden cupboard or pantry.

“You’ll see, Rachel.” He said in lieu of an explanation. “I want to see if I can still get in; it’s been a little while.” He dropped her hand to finger the outside of the cupboard. “Ah!” He exclaimed, as he pried it open. The door opened with a creak. It wasn’t a cupboard at all, it looked like something else entirely. There were pulleys and cables. A small platform. It was large enough to crawl into. It looked like a miniature lift, but not quite.

Rachel was confused, as she watched. “Jason… what is it? I don’t -”

“Shh… it’s a library…” He put a finger to her lips. “And this… is a secret.”

——————-

He stroked a path down her mouth, before he let his fingers fall off the slope of her chin. They silently took each other in for several moments, before he turned back towards the dark, half-sized room.

“It’s my little hideaway - from when I was first taken in as a kid…” Jason offered. “It’s a dumbwaiter - for servants to leave food for anyone in here. All so they could eat without ever having to leave.” Rachel slowly nodded, taking the contraption in, as she peered inside. “I think over the years, it’s been forgotten…” He had never told anyone about this before. But, he was telling Rachel. “I used to have hidden spots all over the manor and all over this place. But this one, was my favorite…” He smirked. “No one ever thought to check the library for a scoundrel like me.” He snorted.

Rachel smiled. She watched him closely before she asked a question. “Why was it your favorite?”

“I liked getting lost in here - in the library.” He shrugged, his feet shuffling. “I would get lost in here for hours reading or thinking… When I was feeling unsure, or like I didn’t belong, I would come here… I’m still glad for it, this place taught me a lot.”

“What… did it teach you?” Her face mystified and awed by his confession.

“Many things. But mostly, that I was wrong.” Jason admitted. “I didn’t need to be in some hole in the wall. I did belong - I was exactly where I was supposed to be.” Jason faced her, his hand on her own. “And so are you.”

She glanced at the dumbwaiter, processing this. Her face angled back toward the ground, before she came up, with a wistful stare.

“I don’t want to say… I get it or I understand… As no one ever quite can - get it - I mean.” Rachel tried. She licked her lips. Rachel hesitantly reached up and skimmed his face with her index and middle fingers.

“Yeah… Tell me about it. Everyone says that, but the truth is, they really don’t.” Jason nodded, he was grateful for this. He was glad that she wasn’t one for generic replies, especially to his admission. But truly, if anyone could grasp what he was saying, he felt she would.

“What I didn’t say before was, well… was.” Jason waited patiently for her to elaborate. “My mother… She was Jewish. "I lost my parents - too…” Oh. He felt a turning in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t hesitate and he pulled her close. Rachel froze, before she settled into his arms.

When he let her go, she spoke again. “Going to get a pastrami sandwich with her, is one of the last true, dependable memories I have of her.” Rachel’s voice wavered. But then, after a moment, it sounded full of something akin to hope. Or was it acceptance? “It’s almost like it gives me guidance, or answers to questions I can’t ask her… It… fills something inside me. More than an ordinary meal does.”

“Food for the soul.” Jason agreed. She did understand… She really did. He knew it as he saw Rachel’s deep sparkling eyes search his.

“But, like you, I found family in unexpected places… It’s so much more than blood ties, isn’t it?” She gave him a soft smile.

“Yes.” Jason thought of Bruce. His brothers. Alfred. Ace. Though it had seemed unlikely at first. And they were the oddest bunch of misfits he knew. They were a family. What they had become and why they had become it, was mixed up in the wonderful and the terrible. But, he wouldn’t trade for anything. “It’s whatever or whomever you need it to be.”

“And that’s what matters.” She finished. He couldn’t have said it better.

“Yes. Yes it is.” She knew what it was like to lose family. How he must have never felt quite right or the same, until he found his place, his people. And if he hadn’t known then, he knew now, how a sandwich could satisfy a different kind of craving. As that meal had sated him in immeasurable ways. It had filled the cracks and fractures inside him in ways no meal before it had managed to. It was his heart that felt sated.

“Thank you for showing me this, Jason.” Her words were measured and careful. But, he could tell that this talk had invigorated her, especially when she said, quietly, “I think I needed that.”

“And thank you - for lunch.” Jason clarified. “That really was some sandwich…” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head. They walked slowly. Ambling around the shelves listlessly. Neither ready to leave each other’s side just yet.

She shifted a lock of hair away from her face. “I told you it was special.” Rachel brushed his shoulder and blushed, when she realized what she was touching him with such ease.

“No, it’s not.” Jason told her. And he could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t getting it. Or maybe she had yet to figure it out. “It’s not the sandwich, Rachel.” His low voice speaking as he moved closer, the corners of his lips turned up. “It was never the sandwich that was special.”

#jayrae #raex #redrae #jason todd #red hood #raven roth #me #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #au #libraryau #request #raven #ravendc #red x #Part 3 is happening!!!!

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caffeinatedtimdrake · 5 years

Text

In a Garden of Blue Violets

I’m gonna start on requests this weekend in between studying but until then!!! 4k of angst?? new territory for me. ft a happy ending.

Jason x Reader. You are always trying to heal from the loss and move on with your life, but Jason finds ways to remain tangled in your soul.

Sorrowed, and the day for me will be as the night (tomorrow, at dawn by V. Hugo)

Two days after Selina finds you at an ungodly hour on a rooftop, bare feet dangling off the edge and shoulders drooped, as if one more ounce of melancholy might pull you into the deepest depths of the Earth. Maybe that’s where you could find Jason. She wants you to know she’s there – you can hear it in her uncharacteristically audible footsteps because you know her heart is heavy, too. You stiffen a little and rub at your cheeks with the heel of your palm, sticky tears and fresh wave of grief, before turning around to face her. She taught you to never look away, so you meet her eyes with a shaky exhale. A sentimental sorrow glimmers in the twist of her mouth and the subtle, maternal warmth reflected in orbs of jade and wisdom. “Y/N, you should come eat.” Selina’s voice is a soft caress above the cacophony of late-night traffic and Bruce’s words still echoing in the space between your ears. You nod meticulously and sniffle, gaze shifting to your toes. She looks at you for a long moment of bated breath before she sighs and slinks down the stairs. Now when she moves, she’s silent. You weren’t supposed to find out this way, but Bruce called the landline and your heart did a funny little flip when the caller ID read Wayne. You and Selina had been off on a drug ring bust for the past four days and she was only just catching up on calls and intel. You were supposed to hang up when Bruce asked for Selina, but you didn’t. Instead, you barely breathed and stayed on the line. When Bruce’s words caught in his throat and he whispered one of your worst nightmares into existence, your mind blanked. You don’t even know if the phone turned off – you only comprehended that you had to go somewhere Selina couldn’t immediately find you. After Bruce had called, his voice a static rasp over the phone, you’d thrown yourself up the stairs and onto the rooftop, sobbing against an empty crate until you were dizzy. Eventually you’d ended up on your back, staring up at threatening storm clouds. The concrete beneath you was cold and jagged, marred by time and rain and sun. You don’t understand how you drift off to sleep with your heart so impossibly heavy, but you do. You don’t know how long you sleep, minutes bleeding into hours, but when you wake the world is much darker. When you remember why you’re on the roof in the first place, you have to shove your first into your mouth to keep from bawling and rousing the whole city. This is an awful breed of despair, thick and frantic, filling your lungs with coal and your blood with acid. Now, you stand and stretch and crane your neck to look at the stars, but nothing shines. The expanse of darkness makes your heart ache impossibly more. Each contraction is an echo of loss. You’re a bit lightheaded as you make your way down the steps, but you barely notice the throbbing in your temples or the taste of sandpaper on your tongue because the weight of Jason’s death presses so severely on your chest. Selina waits at the bottom of the stairs. You don’t think twice before collapsing into her arms and dissolving into tears once more.

Two months after When the doorbell chimes and you peek through the peephole on a rainy Friday afternoon, you expect to find either your cranky downstairs neighbor or Maggie – certainly not Dick Grayson. Hot tears well in your eyes upon the sight of his damp hair and five o’clock shadow, and you have to take several deep breaths before you open the door and welcome him inside with a tempered grin. “Nice to see you, Dick.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes in the way that’s so defining of Dick Grayson. “You, too, Y/N.” “Selina’s just upstairs, I can – “ “Actually, I came for you.” You blink up at him, surprised. “M-me?” He nods and swallows hard. “I was gonna go, um, visit Jason. And I was wondering if you wanted to join.” At the mention of Jason, you freeze. You feel as though you’ve been plunged into the Arctic, so intensely frigid that you feel pinpricks of heat down your spine. Breath dissipates from your lungs and your language skills completely vanish. You ogle at him, mouth slightly parted and eyes suddenly very watery. Dick takes immediate notice of your shock and flaps his arms frantically, like he doesn’t know whether to fan you or hug you. “But you totally don’t have to! There is no pressure at all! Only do what you’re comfortable with!” A reply lodges itself in your throat. “Maybe you should go, Y/N.” Selina drawls, rounding the corner and slinking towards the pair of you. You can’t offer much of a coherent response, so instead you nod tensely and turn robotically on your heel to grab shoes, an umbrella, and three packs of tissues.

The car ride has been largely devoid of discourse, but Dick’s radio plays what sounds like circus music and you’re quite certain that opening your mouth will evoke either a torrent of tears or hysterical laughter. Possibly both. Dick’s voice is like the faint fog hovering in the air. “He cared about you a lot. I hope you know.” You swallow the lump in your throat and squint out the window, where blue violets wilt on the side of the road. “I cared about him, too.” You don’t think you could ever stop caring about Jason; he’d become too deeply threaded into the very muscle fibers of your heart. Falling for Jason had come easily, refreshing and natural like spring rain. The pair of you tagged along with your mentors or operated solo on less severe missions, often crossing paths and ending up back-to-back, battling chains of criminals and otherworldly creatures. When you weren’t training to lead the next generation of heroic vigilantes, you often found yourself in a cozy corner of the library with Jason and many textbooks. You were not his and he was not yours, but a sweet sort of chemistry flourished between you and Jason, a quiet relief from the pressure of mentors and successors and evil. It never blossomed into a garden – it never had the chance– but an undeniable warmth, an indisputable maybe one day, had existed between you and Jason, sprouting like roses in April. Dick stops at the florist and grabs a bouquet of flowers; lavenders, anemones, and gladioluses. You hold the bouquet as Dick continues driving. You tell him they’re beautiful and he tells you that next time, you should pick out the flowers. The prospect of a ‘next time’ is like cold glass cracking within your chest because there hasn’t even been a first time yet, but you say okay and stick your nose in the lavender bunch.

Three years after You decide this time of year is your favorite in the company of rain clouds and the white heathers and violets sprouting on your windowsill. Spring blossoms into summer easily, in the same way that you turn the worn page of your textbook. Things are different now. Instead of saving the city by battling villains, you enroll in nursing school to help heal the people of Gotham. You still see Selina often – she mandated that you two have dinner at least once a month – and occasionally bump into Dick on weekends at a coffee shop. Once in a blue moon, Catwoman, Batman, or Nightwing will request your help relaying intel from the Batcave or patching up a team member. Time has been the best remedy for you. As months bled into years, the searing anguish melted into a dull ache. You drive with Dick to place flowers across Jason’s grave every once in a while, whenever he gets a moment away from the office and you can afford a study break. You still need to bring tissues, but now the visits only require a few stuffed into your pocket instead of several packets. This evening, your schedule is free of any obligations for the first time in ages. You work nights at the local hospital and when you’re not working, you’re in class or at the library. Work has been especially taxing lately. You’ve treated more criminals than you’re comfortable with due to the thoroughly wounding work of a rancorous vigilante who calls himself Red Hood. You don’t necessarily mind that he targets the worst of the worst, but you are less than thrilled when you end up changing gauze for gang leaders. At the same time, you don’t feel any less rabid anxiety when a convicted murderer has a seizure due to brain damage and flatlines in front of you in comparison to when the same happens to an elderly mailman. Death is death; there is no return from her cool embrace. And a patient is a patient, even if you know their soul is less than human. Sometimes, you struggle with this and when you voiced the thought to Selina a few weeks ago, her answer was unsurprising. “Right now, you are obligated to save people. Some are so horrible; I know you don’t think they should be saved. You can always come back to me, Y/N. We save good people by getting rid of the bad ones.” But tonight, in the company of your cat and a light drizzle, things don’t seem so morbid. Admittedly, you do feel a little lame for spending your night off buried abnormal psychology notes, but quickly shrug it off when your cat bumps her head against your ankle encouragingly. You scratch beneath her chin and she purrs like a motor. “I’m not that lame. I’m working hard so I can buy you the spiffiest cat trees. And I have the whole night to cuddle with you, can you believe it?” She meows, probably in disbelief.

You take a break from studying and make the executive decision to pick up your favorite Chinese food. “Hold down the fort for me, baby.” You tell your cat as she bids you farewell with a soft chortle, shutting the light off. She doesn’t do a very good job because when you return twenty minutes later with a large brown paper bag and a Disney song stuck in your head, there’s a man sitting at your kitchen table. And your cat is in his lap, purring. You see red – not because you’re angry, but because the color of his mask is the color of blood, something you’ve always been too familiar with. You let the door shut behind you with a soft click and when he turns to look at you, you have a vision of your body, bruised and broken at the hands of a man who had done the same to so many others. Dick and Selina are on speed dial, but if Red Hood wants to murder you, that would not matter very much. It’s been a while since you’ve had to punch anyone in the mouth or land a swift kick to the back of a knee, but the rush of adrenaline fizzing in your head all the way down to your toes is relatively reassuring. If nothing else, you could scream. His face is angled towards you and his chests moves with steady, untroubled breaths. Your face is still a bit cold from the way the rain kissed your cheeks, but you feel heat rising to the surface of your skin. You swallow hard. “What do you want from me?” He’s quiet for a long moment, tilting his head in a disarmingly casual, pensive manner. “I’m…not sure. I’m still trying to figure that out, Y/N.” His voice rumbles like distant thunder and you blanch when he utters your name. “How do you know my name?” You say hoarsely, fighting the building panic in your throat. “I know a lot about you. You’re a nursing student and you work at the hospital.” “And?” You subtly stick your hand in a pocket, hoping to dig for pepper spray in a less than obvious way. “You used to live a different life, under the guidance of Selina Kyle. Catwoman. Adoptive mother figure. And, occasionally Batman.” Your shirt sticks to you uncomfortably with rain and sweat. “You left that life after a bad incident with The Joker a year and a half ago.” You exhale sharply, goosebumps erupting across your arms. Instinctively, your hand goes to fiddle with a necklace at the base of your throat, one that hides a tiny but terrible scar. “You’re also probably waiting for the right moment to pepper spray me or call Selina.” You practically jerk in surprise. Red Hood shrugs, looking down at his lap. “Didn’t know you have a cat, though. She’s cute.” “Leave my cat out of this.” You manage. He sighs complacently and gently places her on the ground. She has the gall to meow in protest. You clear your throat and move towards the kitchen table like you’re walking on ice even though you feel like you’re on fire with fear, setting the food down and fixing Red Hood with what you hope is an unwavering, intimidating look. “If you don’t know what you want from me, you should leave. If you do know what you want from me, you’re already aware of my history. It won’t be an easy fight.” He bristles at the threat and the implications. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He bites out, leaning forward microscopically. His arms rest on the table and his gloved hands are clenched tightly, as if his sense of composure will unravel if he relaxes his fingers. Your strong front dithers at this. “Then what?” Red Hood exhales like he’s never been more exhausted, shoulders hunching, and head cast downward. He’s quiet for what must be an eternity before he responds. “I just wanted to know if you are yourself.” You don’t know what his eyes say about his soul in that moment, but in his voice, you hear a very human sense of hurt. You pay no attention to the ambiguity of his mortality and ability to feel pain. “Somehow, that’s the most cryptic and creepy thing a villain has ever said to me.” He barks out a laugh at this and the sound startles you because it’s nothing like The Joker cackling or Ivy giggling. “I think I have my answer now, though.” He stands up and you’re further startled by his size – over six feet of toned muscle, brutal tendencies, and a remarkably light laugh. Instinctively, you step backwards, poised to fight if need be. He raises his hands in surrender, walking slowly toward the window. “I’m leaving. No trouble.” You proceed to propel yourself across the room and land with a soft thump in front of the window, shoulders squared, and hands clenched. “I don’t think so, Red Hood.” “Huh?” “You don’t get to break into my apartment, spew facts about my life, and leave.” He leans back a little, seemingly resigned. You imagine he arches an eyebrow at you skeptically beneath the mask. “What do I get to do in addition to that?” You frown. “Answer some questions.” “Like?” “Who the hell are you? And are you aware of the fact that I change bed pans for high ranking drug dealers because of you?” “You’re not going to like the answer to either of those questions, Y/N.” “I still want to know!” “I’m no hero, but I don’t think I qualify entirely as a villain. And, no, I was unaware. You’re showing them a kindness they do not deserve.” “And why do you know my name? He shrugs; a deliberate, slow movement. “For a bit, it was the only thing I did know.” A sensation of dread begins knotting tightly in your stomach, sending your heartrate skyrocketing even higher. You watch him through wary, wide eyes, drinking in the unbothered slouch in his shoulders. “I-I don’t understand.” You take a tiny step backwards, anxiety slithering up your throat. He looks directly at you and his voice is almost haunting. “I don’t think you want to.” It feels a bit like you’re climbing a mountain, except without any equipment or preparation. Your breathing becomes more erratic, just shy of outright hyperventilation, and there’s a funny buzzing sensation in your head. Your cheeks are flushed with warmth and your hands are cold, no matter how tightly you curl them into fists. If you fall off this cliff, there’s no hope. It’s perhaps a bit unwise when you suck in a deep breath and say, “Try me,” but you’ve never been one to accept anything at face value. Red Hood goes still for a few moments before reaching up to place his hands on the helmet. “Okay, Y/N, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Red Hood slowly removes the mask to reveal a mop of dark hair, olive skin, and ocean eyes. You see burning sapphire and then, darkness.

You wake with a frantic gasp on your couch, a damp cloth falling off your forehead and into your lap as you look around in a frenzy. “Mittens, I just had the worst dream of my l- OH!” When your sight lands on a man reading your favorite Hugo criticism, you fling yourself off the couch and against the front door in a whirlwind that leaves you dizzy and nauseated. He nearly jumps off the armchair and moves towards you but freezes in place when you put out your hand. “No! P-please.” You inhale a ragged breath, lungs aching as you slide down the cool wood onto your butt with shaky legs. “I need y-you to stay over there. For now. Please.” You can barely make out a nod because your vision is so blurry. You squeeze your eyes shut and take in big gulps of air that make your chest burn, leaning your head back. Inhale. Red Hood. Hold for four seconds. Jason. Exhale. Alive. Repeat. You don’t know how long you stay like that, quelling rampant thoughts and waiting for the blood to stop rushing around in your ears. When you open your eyes, you notice that tears have begun to stream down your cheeks, but your vision is less blurry than before so you can see at the man in the armchair properly. He looks like he’s going to jump out of his skin, a concerned frown etched into his dark features. “Maybe you should drink some water.” He suggests. You nod numbly, struggling to pull your guard up. “Is it okay if I stand up and get it for you?” You sniffle a bit before croaking, “Okay.” He fills up a glass – it’s your favorite, one with dancing frogs – and ambles over to you cautiously. He remains over an arm’s length away from you and you are grateful for the space. He squats down and hands you the glass. You barely look at him, muttering a thank you and chugging it down. When you finish, you shut your eyes again and take several more steadying breaths before sitting up and looking him in the face. This is a different kind of heartache. It’s like your best dream and worst nightmare to have a man in front of you who looks an awful lot like the boy who left a gaping hole in your soul. But he’s certainly not the same. His face is hardened by unforgiving edges. The hair atop his head is wavy and dark, save for the streak of white curling over the center of his forehead. His earthy skin is inscribed with a litany of scars; one curves across his cheek and you feel a swarm of anxiety loom closer to your head because you can read the marred skin like it’s the only language you know. There’s a darkness in those eyes, as though his demons had swallowed any sliver of light, leaving a fire of anguish instead, and a weariness in the bags beneath the stormy sea of sapphire. “Who are you?” “Someone you’ve always known. Someone you’ve never met.” You shake your head slowly. “This can’t be happening.” There’s a shade of panic in your voice that makes him sit down completely in front of you. He crosses his legs and wrings his hands, visibly nervous and almost boyish. Red Hood – Jason – radiates heat and smiles bitterly. “If I had a dollar for every time I said exactly that…” But this isn’t the time for smiles. “You’re different.” You say in a way that says much more. The implications are clear. He hears them, you’re sure, because his face briefly scrunches in pain. You were killed. You came back. Your soul is darker. “There is no way I could be the same as before. Or maybe this has always been me. I don’t know, but I wish I did.” “How long?” You ask meekly. “A little over two years.” You blink at him, lashes wet. “Oh.” Seconds of silence ebb into minutes. You think about the past two years of your life and all that’s changed; your path, your home, your hair, your fears, your hopes, even your little pot of flowers on the windowsill, but never the space in your heart for Jason. You think about how he’s changed; from a lanky, brash teenager into a dauntingly powerful man; a hero that once lay bleeding into nothingness on the floor of a warehouse, one who now has blood on his hands. You think about the dulled pain of the past two years and you wonder about his pain; if he wants to clean the blood from his hands, if he wants to turn back the clock, if he wishes he had never been brought back at all. You’re quiet because you can’t find words and because you’re looking for a flicker of familiarity, of the Jason who always felt like home in a meadow of gentians. In those stormy eyes, you see him. A sailor lost at sea, trying to find his way home in the dead of night. Your hand is a bit shaky, but you reach out to place your palm against his cheek, if only to ensure that he exists outside of your memories. His face is warm, and he places his own hand over the back of yours, large and calloused. His name on your tongue tastes like hard liquor and ripe fruit, but you can’t bring yourself to speak it aloud, into the air, beyond the cascade of tears and a torn heart. “Y/N,” His voice is thick with emotion. Your bottom lip quivers. “J-Jason.” It almost burns to say it and a fresh wave of tears crashes to the shore to put out the fiery pain in the same way that you crash into his chest. You clutch at worn leather and thick hair, tighter still when you feel tears drops on your head like the early evening rain. He holds you to his chest securely – too much has changed in his life has been unsteady and he’s spent too long without you, he doesn’t know if he’s capable of letting you go. But you don’t seem to mind, keeping your head tucked under his chin until you can breathe without weeping, almost going limp beneath the way he rubs the pad of his thumb soothingly against your hip. “This whole night has been longer than the past three years of my life.” “Time is relative.” “Says the guy who’s been dead.” “And brought back to life, don’t forget that part.” You squeeze him tighter when he says this. Unanswered questions hang in the air, but you know they will find answers in time. For now, your eyes find his and he seeks your mouth with a tenderness you haven’t known in this lifetime.

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aconitemare · 4 years

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[jaydick] Before That, And Colder

Chapter Three

Previous Chapter

AO3

A large mirror — a looking glass — or so it seemed to me — now stood where it had not been before. As I walked toward it in terror I saw my own form, all spotted with blood, its face white, advancing to meet me with a weak and uncertain step.

Four knocks sound at the door, quick and heavy, impatient: Suzie Su. Jason glances up from his book, a collection of Poe’s works mailed to him from Wayne Enterprises, Office of Bruce Wayne, C.E.O. It’s no library book — an expensive collectible, probably, judging by the silver-edged pages, embossed cover, and massive size. Jason is more tolerable of this gift, however, compared to the first edition volumes of Great Expectations sitting in a box in his bedroom closet. Sometimes he has the urge to bring them outside, douse them in kerosene, and roast marshmallows over them. He once got as far as unearthing the box and running his hand gently over the topmost volume, registering its rough texture beneath his weathered palm, before he lost his momentum and tucked the box away again.

“What is it?” he calls out. The doorknob jiggles. “It’s locked,” he drawls, tipping his chair back a little with his toes. Upside down, he looks out the wall-to-wall windows behind him. The final dredges of sunlight bruise the Atlantic Ocean purple.

Suzie Su kicks the door futilely. “No kidding,” she gripes.

Jason sits back upright. He shifts the paperweight off his open book, moves to close it, and is promptly reminded of the photos spread across the desk. They’re why he had begun reading. He had grabbed a book off his shelf and slammed it down, burying the bodies. Now, dead boys stare up at him, their dark hair rusted with blood and their hollow bones crunched. They look like crows, like a murder, infused with tragedy and beating broken wings.

“What do you want?” he asks roughly, eyes transfixed but mouth still — as always, he knows — moving ahead of him. He needs to get these out of his sight or he’ll lose his mind.

“Well, it’s not a social call,” replies Suzie Su.

“Be right there,” promises Jason. He shoves the photos into the book, crushing his doppelgangers between the final pages of William Wilson. Then he bats the book away, towards the corner of his desk for later.

Jason unlocks and opens the door to reveal Suzie Su in a plain, button-down shirt damp with sweat. It pools beneath her pits like dolphin fins halfway down her sides. He raises an eyebrow. “What, no little black dress?”

“You don’t pay me to be beautiful, ass,” says Suzie Su, brushing past Jason into his office.

“Shit, am I supposed to be paying you?” he jokes, watching her over his shoulder. He’s about to follow when James darkens his doorway next. James is less sweaty but sporting a badly busted lip. Of course, the interesting part is the man he’s got wrapped in his arms with a potato sack over his head.

Jason spreads his palms in delight. “Oh, good, you’ve found someone for the internship,” he says with cheer. He cocks his head to check around James’ hulking form. “Any other incapacitated applicants? No?” He sighs and shakes his head remorsefully. “Low turnout.”

James just stares at him, unamused. Probably sour over the punch Potato Sack got in. “Let me in, please,” he says. Jason courteously steps aside, closing the door behind him. James immediately releases Potato Sack, who sags to his knees and leans against James’ leg for half a second before regaining his balance. He’s more conscious than Jason would have thought for a bound and gagged kidnap victim.

Jason points at him. “Who’s the fool? He just come from the county fair’s three-legged race?” he inquires. Potato Sack is dressed nicely; his outfit is a tad disheveled, but there’s no blood or sweat on him, at least not from the neck down. His peachy pocket square is halfway out his paisley blazer. The cuffs are folded to his elbows, exposing muscular, nicely tanned forearms.

Suzie Su flops into one of Jason’s chairs, the white leather one with too much cushion. “The sack came straight out of Big Guy’s car. I don’t even know,” she remarks. She sounds tired despite being uninjured, like she might’ve chased Potato Sack all the way here.

Jason contemplates making a Karate Kid reference, something about chasing chickens, when James chimes in. “We can’t have suspicious figures knowing where your office is,” he justifies. “Especially right now with the — photographs,” he finishes, visibly uncomfortable.

Jason shrugs and shakes his head in amused mystification. “A suspicious figure?” he repeats, making a “so what?” gesture with his hand. “Is that all he is?”

James grimaces. “Not all. He’s weirdly… agile. Freakishly quick.”

Suzie Su laughs, a husky and wheezing sound in her current state. “Agile is right. He pirouetted James right in the face.” Pirouette, Jason thinks. The word spins into his mind, a flurry of movement, and then neatly halts on a striking thought. Jason turns his attention to the well-dressed man on his knees.

Meanwhile, James is sending Suzie Su a glare across the room. “It was a roundhouse kick,” he corrects as if the name affords him more dignity. “Just a really spinny one. I don’t think he was actually even on the ground — ”

Impatient, Jason rips the sack off the man’s head. His jaw clenches so tightly he’s aware of the ache. Dick is noticeably unharmed, except for perhaps a small patch of dirt accentuating his sharp right cheekbone. His hair is in disarray, silky strands breaking from what once must have been perfectly molded curls to fall smoothly into his alert blue eyes. He looks more like a pampered socialite returning from a joyride with the windows down than a hostage. Dick blows a rich black lock of hair out of his eyes and gives a toothy grin that positively dazzles. “Hiya, Hood. Fancy seeing you here,” he greets and, for added impertinence, he even winks at Jason.

Claustrophobia looms over Jason’s back like an invisible but palpable enemy, breathing down his neck, crowding him against Dick and Bruce and Tim. He never should have contacted Tim, this was the respect they showed, the audacity. He has a flash of himself yanking Dick up by the throat and dangling him out a window, letting him drop to the icy ocean. Then he sees Dick’s golden face turn cold, eyes white and face pale, and the horrifying vision is gone just as fast.

“Everybody out,” Jason orders. He feels stiff, his spine stiff, his voice stiff. He’s still staring at Dick, the smiling piece of work. Suzie Su stands up and lumbers towards the door, but James lingers.

“Is he one of your, you know,” James starts out. He brings his fingers to his head and Jason knows he’s about to form little bat ears, but fortunately, James drops his hands to his side instead. James swallows dryly. “I’ll be outside.”

“Yeah, way outside,” Jason agrees sharply. “Outside the casino, if you can.”

Dick watches the two of them with glass-blown eyes. He smiles cheekily at James and says, “Maybe you can keep an eye on the parking lot, make sure no one touches Hood’s bike.”

James narrows his eyes at Dick but says nothing more. He turns around and stalks out the door, trailing after Suzie Su. “The door, ” Jason adds, mildly amused when James grabs the doorknob and slams the door shut. “Touchy,” Jason tuts.

Dick springs to his feet and begins undoing the knot around his wrists. Jason just barely resists shoving him back to the floor. “What the hell, Dick!” he shouts. “What happened to the fucking parking lot!” he demands, waving his arms.

Dick’s wrists come free, the rope falling to his feet in one final and fluid motion. “I got lost,” Dick says. He smoothes out his shirt, which draws Jason’s eyes properly to how the pink highlights the rosy warmth of his skin tone. He looks good.

“Oh, my god,” Jason mutters, turning away from Dick and pinching the bridge of his nose. There’s tension building there, a volcanic tension Jason is always pushing down, keeping dormant. Stupid, stupid, letting the Bat in. He can only blame himself because if he blames Dick he’s going to go on a rampage, and anyway, holding the bats accountable has never worked for him before.

“You know what,” he says after a moment wherein Dick wisely stays silent, “it’s my fault,” he informs, holding his palms up in surrender. “I, despite many opportunities to learn from my mistakes, entrusted your hegemonistic troupe with private information and somehow expected you to respect my rules.” Jason holds a hand over his heart and leans forward in apology, causing Dick to have to tilt his chin slightly upward. Jason stares intently at him, going for venomous sincerity as he says, “This is on me for thinking what I said matters to any of you psychos.”

Jason watches Dick blink owlishly at him. He’s still in Dick’s space, waiting for a response, when finally Dick smiles and pats him on the shoulder. “Woo!” he says, wiping his forehead, “Glad we got that over with! Very mature of you, Hood,” he chirps, stepping around Jason. Jason imagines grabbing him by the neck and holding him in place, pinning him still like one might do to a butterfly that lingers too long for safety. Jason does not do that.

Dick begins rooting through his desk, wiggling drawers to find they’re locked and checking beneath his Poe book like he’s in a clue game. Jason can’t help but release a weary sigh. Jason begins, “Would rather you just let me die, if we’re being hon — ”

“By the way, what you say does matter,” Dick abruptly interjects, looking up from another locked drawer to stare Jason down. Dick’s hair has fallen into his eyes again, providing a thin buffer between their gazes. Jason awkwardly shifts his weight and suspects, with some bitterness, that the terms of the mission have just switched hands. Then Dick is pushing his bangs out of his face and wrestling his curls out of their mold. “It’s just that your life matters more,” he explains, and the whole line is just so nonchalantly sentimental, so easily spoken, that Jason wants to throw them both out a window. At least Dick has stopped staring at him, and he looks like slightly less of a prick now that his hair is closer to its naturally relaxed wave.

“The curls make you look gay,” Jason informs, trying not to pout like he’s sixteen again and Nightwing is refusing to partner up with him on a case.

Dick smirks. “Those who live in glass casinos, Jay,” he retorts. “Feel like unlocking any of these for me?” he asks.

Jason crosses his arms. “Not particularly, no,” he replies, shaking his head.

Dick twists his lips in irritation before, apparently, moving on, expression blasé. “That’s fine,” he dismisses. “What’s not fine is that security of yours,” he adds, unimpressed, as he scoops the Poe collection into his hands. Jason’s heart seizes in his chest.

“Hey!” he protests, marching towards Dick and reaching for the book. Dick’s shoulder cuts between them, blocking Jason off.

“Your bruisers couldn’t land a real hit on me — and they just take me to you without, apparently, informing you ahead of time?” Dick criticizes. He’s sifting through the silvery pages now, fanning them with his thumb. “What if I had been your stalker? What then? They deliver me unto you where I’m free to shoot you point-blank?”

Stalker, Jason thinks, is a tad dramatic. “What, they didn’t pat you down?” he asks, already knowing they did. James is too paranoid not to and Suzie Su knows who lines her pockets.

Dick purses his lips unhappily. The overall effect is charming against Jason’s will; it’s a beautiful mouth, full and fair, and easily admired when idle. But then his lips are framing around words, as they frequently are, and Jason has to focus. “Well, technically, yes, they checked me for weapons,” Dick admits. He holds a finger up and points at Jason’s chest. “But there are other ways of killing you.”

Jason pats his chest and then holds out his arms like wings. “And yet I am not dead. Security seems just fine to me.”

Dick’s expression sobers. Jason can barely keep up with Dick’s emotive face, the ups and downs of his duel humor and sincerity. “You’re not dead because there’s been no attempt. You’re the endgame and these boys are just,” language fails Dick here.

“Pit stops?” Jason offers, raising both his eyebrows. Dick clearly doesn’t appreciate his word choice, because his brows knit and he turns his fine cheek further away from Jason. He wants to keep pushing, though, so he says, “How about appetizers?”

Dick has reached the end of the book, but before Jason can feel relief, he starts fanning the pages again. “Sure,” Dick concedes, albeit moodily.

Jason leans against his deck and watches Dick flip through. He considers ripping the book out of his hands, but he doesn’t know if it’s worth the trouble, so he holds back and drums his fingers against the edge of the table, letting his anxiety bleed out through his tips.

“Appetizer makes sense,” Jason proposes. “Sociopath like him, he likes to whet his hunger when he can, but he’ll never be full,” he explains, almost absently, his mind drifting away from the office and towards the ocean facing him, and across that ocean, too, all the way to his return to Gotham. He remembers his own hunger.

He hears Dick slap a page down. Jason doesn’t bother looking; he knows Dick found the photographs. A tiny sigh escapes from Dick beside him. Jason glances at him from the corner of his eye, sees Dick tapping his fingers against a face, communing with some boy’s preserved pain. Jason looks away.

“Except he’s not ‘whetting’ anything,” Dick says. “These kids aren’t for his benefit. They’re for yours.”

“None of these kids died,” offers Jason, partly as an agreement with Dick’s point, partly just to remind himself. They’re all alive. They’re breathing. They didn’t lose everything.

Dick hikes himself up on the desk and sets the book down in his lap, legs pretzeled. The white slacks curve keenly around his thighs. “Makes sense for a reenactment, which the assailant’s going for. You didn’t die, after all.”

Jason’s jaw flexes. “I did.”

Dick does not respond, which Jason is grateful for. Having the photos open, their bodies inspected while he stands off to the side, is such a keen breach of privacy. He feels it like a direct violation, yet he knows better than to snatch the evidence from Dick’s hands. Dick always comes bounding back after a rebuttal, Exhibit A: this whole thing. The only way Dick would be gentler is if he needed to be, and Jason refuses to give him a reason.

After a minute, Dick breaches the silence. “Full discretion?” he says.

Jason hangs his head and braces himself. He’s never noticed before, but there are tiny fishes painted onto the ceiling. “Yeah?” he asks, figuring Dick is seeking permission, or whatever.

“I watched the tapes.”

That gets Jason’s attention. He faces Dick whose fingers rest on the open pages, whose brow is furrowed in what must be guilt or nervousness. Jason opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakes his head. “What tapes, Dick?”

Dick taps his index finger on the first kid: Terry Weind. The name he learned from a news report the same day his picture was stuck to his bike. No pictures were released to the public, but Vale spared few details in her verbal description. Jason didn’t have to do much digging for the boy’s identity. He had shown up at the hospital with flowers, telling Terry’s mother that he was just a concerned citizen. He also told her that Gotham’s heart went out to her son, that there was a community right outside that hospital room, even if it felt the only souls around were her and her son’s. He hopes she believes it better than he does.

“B has had Park Row Memorial recorded around the clock for years. He has — every one of the attacks on camera. We watched them while he was prepping me for this case.” Dick says this like it’s a confession and Jason has the power to pardon him.

Jason nearly scoffs. “Yeah, well, it’s your job,” he says instead. If he was stronger, Jason would hold this breach of privacy against him. He would take advantage of the one aspect in all of this that Dick appears penitent for. He should be sorry. Dick got to watch not just three kids brutally beaten, exploited helplessly, he got to watch Jason. Jason had to experience his death completely alone and now he had to experience it again on a stage. Neither Bruce nor Dick were there for him as partners, but they are here as an audience. Jason’s grave has been violated by more than just a hooded figure in an alleyway, but Jason does not have the energy to be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have the energy to give Dick what he wants.

“So, what’s the plan?” asks Jason, propping his elbows on the desk. Dick doesn’t answer, so Jason says, “You must have one since you went to all the trouble of getting James to deliver you personally to my office like a sack of potatoes.”

“Who keeps a potato sack on them, by the way?” Dick asks. Jason shrugs. “That’s just weird,” Dick comments.

“Yeah, he’s kind of weird,” Jason agrees. “But so is everyone in your corner. Those who live in glass batcaves should not throw batarangs?” he asks, irony lacing his words.

“Wingdings, actually,” Dick corrects, which reminds Jason of the Microsoft font and he wonders if Dick’s stupidity is contagious. He’d hate to start calling his guns ‘bat-barrels’ or ‘Times New Hoodlum.’ “Also, the plan might just take place in the aforementioned glass house,” Dick adds.

Jason shakes his head. “You’ve lost me.”

Dick sighs, the perfect picture of put-upon. Jason knows where this is headed: he’s the unreasonable one here, somehow, despite arriving by car like a normal person instead of on a suspicious person list. “Your hired muscle isn’t the best,” Dick begins with an insult, so Jason knows it’s going downhill from here. “Bunker’s observational skills are decent, but not up to par. Your ‘James’ is sloppy. And the, uh,” Dick licks his lips here, “ lady — insulted you about five times between the budget interrogation and the bumpy ride to your office. Wherever her loyalties lie, they’re not with you.”

Jason groans dramatically and pushes off his desk. He reclaims his book from Dick’s lap, closing it shut and walking towards the whale-shaped bookshelf mounted on a non-windowed wall. “Su’s loyalties lie with her money, and her money lies with me,” Jason refutes. He gently slides the book between a copy of The Orphan Master’s Son and Hamlet. “You tell me where a man gets his corn-pone, and I’ll tell you what his opinions are. Mark Twain,” Jason cites.

Dick watches him from his seat on the desk. His lips are pressed in wry amusement, although the amusement may be wishful thinking on Jason’s part. He’d like to say he put something on Dick’s lips, and humor is good enough. “Yes,” says Dick flatly, “that sounds familiar, thank you. But money only goes so far when another pocket reaches farther. Me, telling you she’s bad news,” he cites himself.

“Alright, fine,” Jason says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. He moves them so his jacket fans out in a textile shrug. “Tell me then — Suzie Su the figure you caught on tape? I assume it’s only a figure and not a clear profile since you’re sitting on my desk like it’s your college dorm bed and not out there apprehending my so-called stalker.”

“So-called because they are stalking you, Jason,” Dick says gravely.

“Thanks for the clarity, dickhead, the situation could’ve been really lost on me. Almost forgot I’m the Case of the Month.”

“Sorry,” says Dick, wincing.

“Ugh,” Jason says, hanging his head back with the burden of Dick’s personality. The confession-booth sincerity might be ingratiating if Dick wasn’t as oppressively righteous as an Elf on the Shelf.

“And no,” Dick resumes, “the figure is definitely not Suzie Su. Average height, it looks like, although he’s — bent, most of the time, so it’s guesswork. His frame is neither slim nor broad.”

Jason laughs. “Really? That’s the best you got? Not tall, not short, not big, not small?”

“Well, he’s wearing a hoodie, which obscures a lot of their physique,” explains Dick. He raises his eyebrows then, a questioning movement, and glances out the windows. The room has crisped to an orange color without Jason noticing. In a few minutes, the sunlight will be directly in Dick’s eyes, and then shortly afterward night will fall. “Specifically, he was wearing loose-fitting denim jeans, black combat boots, and a red pull-over with the hood up,” Dick describes.

The last revelation pulls a clownish ribbon of laughter from Jason. It’s a nervous one, which must be obvious to Dick, but he can’t help it. The laugh bubbles in his chest, acidic, and pops on his tongue with acerbic heat. “I bet,” is all he says.

Dick musters a half-smile and says, “Points for theme?”

Jason snorts. “Yeah, sure, he can get all the points for theme. But why?” he asks. “What the hell is this theme? He’s dressed himself like me to kill me. Am I killing myself? Is that the idea? Is he saying it was all my fault, that I got myself killed?”

Jason envisions himself as he is now, face veiled in red, bring metal down on Robin. The warehouse builds itself around the nightmare, boxes stacking atop boxes, men milling about indifferently, and then running out. Except that it’s not the warehouse, it’s Crime Alley, and the walls collapse revealing narrow city streets. The Joker falls away and Batman stands in his place. Jason looks down, expecting a bloody crowbar, but he holds in his grip a simple, slightly rusted tire iron. Both are red though, in the end, aren’t they?

Jason flexes his empty fingers. The floor beneath him is plush, white carpet that’s been bleached more times than he can count. “Why Park Row?” he asks.

Dick’s voice is muted, almost hesitant, actually, or perhaps just attempting to hush and soothe. “It could be coincidence. Park Row is conveniently vacant, especially at night, and he wouldn’t know there were cameras watching,” Dick speculates. He approaches the next possibility more tentatively. “Or he might know what Park Row means to you, to Robin. He could even be showing off how much he knows.”

Jason blanches. “He knows a fucking lot then.”

Dick does inventory: “If Park Row is coincidental, he wouldn’t necessarily know you as Jason Todd. He would just know that the Red Hood was Robin and that the Joker killed — ”

Jason cuts him off. “With a crowbar, he got it to the exact weapon .”

The weapon troubles Dick as well, Jason can track the rumination on his face. The crowbar is specific, purposeful, and not common knowledge. The details of Jason Todd’s untimely death were not released to the public — and as far as his other identity went, Robins may change but they don’t die. “Bruce has a theory about that,” Dick shares.

“Oh, yeah?” Jason asks. He can’t keep the sarcasm from entering his voice. Rationally, he knows Bruce can help him and that’s why he’s willing to work with him. But also, what aspect of Jason’s life hasn’t Bruce analyzed through a microscope, poured into a beaker to see if it would blow up, and uploaded for his future reference? What aspect of any of their lives has Bruce not thought through for them?

“Joker, or someone who worked with him that day,” Dick supplies. “They would know about the crowbar, and if it’s the Joker, he makes almost everything Batman does his business, he might even know about the cameras. He could be taunting B by making him watch.”

What a theory it is, too. Jason starts laughing until Dick trails off and asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jason says, holding up his hands in mock apology. He pretends to wipe away a tear. “That is just some crazy narcissistic bullshit. I’m getting the photos of these mutilated kids and he’s the reason why?”

Dick must know Jason has a point because he flounders briefly before restarting. “Maybe not the reason, but logically Batman is connected. I know it doesn’t feel, I don’t know, satisfying, but it’s the only plausible theory so far. The Joker’s games almost always lead back to him. He used you to get at Batman, it’s at least worth considering how Bruce might factor into — ”

Jason holds up a hand to shut Dick up before he loses his patience. “So, none of this is about me?”

Dick’s expression turns confused. “That’s not what I’m saying. I know this is about you.”

“But my death wasn’t,” Jason practically spits. He shrugs, tries to play this casually, but he wants to upend the desk Dick is still sitting on. He’s overcome with the suspicion that everything in this room is a prop to Dick, a piece to a gameboard he’s playing with Bruce alone. The both of them are entitled to waltz in with some half-baked disguise, lounge on his furniture, look through his books, watch his death over and over again. Jason himself is just another clue.

“You can say it,” Jason encourages, “I died for Bruce. It was never about me, it was always his war and I,” Jason pauses for the right words and when they arrive, the anger building up in him blows away. “I was just a good soldier.”

Dick’s eyes don’t sharpen with recognition; they cloud over with it. Jason repeats the plaque’s inscription in the Batcave: A good soldier. It shines, encased in gold, commemorating Jason’s death while in defiance of his life. Here, in this conversation, it is soaked in venom. Jason doesn’t mean it as an attack; nonetheless, Dick shifts physically away as if to hide the bite mark.

Jason takes a fortifying breath. This isn’t where the conversation is going, he vows. “This isn’t the Joker and this isn’t Batman’s case,” he says steadily enough. Dick has slid from the desk and finally stands, his gaze level with Jason’s. Jason gestures broadly, indicating everything around them that Jason has built for himself the past few years. “ This isn’t Bruce’s life and I’m not about to give him mine again.”

Jason thinks he’s made his point. He just wishes Dick didn’t look like he had slapped him. “No one expects that,” he assures before amending with a tiny frown, “I don’t expect that. I won’t speak for Bruce.”

“That’ll be a first,” Jason replies wryly.

Dick actually laughs, kind of, more of a huff but it’s not without humor. “That’s fair, I suppose. I know everyone thinks I’m his champion, but I try to support everyone in our bat-themed infantry. Family, or so I like to call it. I defend you, too, Jay. I hope you know that. I guess he just seems to need me in his corner the most. Or maybe his corner is where I’m used to being, I don’t know, either way — it was just his theory and I thought it was worth sticking to the wall.”

Jason’s impulse is to criticize half of what Dick just said, but he leaves it be. Dick may be here for Bruce, but more importantly, they’re both here for the case. “I get it. But it’s a theory for Batman, not for Red Hood. I know Bruce is already halfway to commandeering the case and you’re here as a favor to him because we infamously don’t get along, but if you’re going to work with me, you gotta respect what I’ve got going on. Because whoever this person is, they’re not going to all this effort over the Joker or Batman. I’m not a soldier caught in their crossfire this time around. They know me as Robin and as Red Hood. This is very, very personal.”

Dick’s eyes drift to Jason’s bookshelf. He’s thinking of the pictures and how these kids were hurt because of Jason. Jason is, too. Dick folds himself across his chest and nods. “You’re right, you’re right. This is your case.” When Dick looks back at him, his face is intense. “I am here for you, not him. Well, I’d like to think we’re all in this together and so in a way I’m here for both of you, but. I don’t see this as a favor to him. Just so we’re clear.”

Jason breaks their gaze before he can accidentally believe him. When Jason became Robin, Dick avoided him because he was upset with Bruce. When Jason became Red Hood, Dick chased after him because he wanted to help Bruce. And when Dick faked his own death and told Jason nothing, it was because of Bruce. Why Dick wants to expand their relationship now is beyond him, but he’ll take help where he can get it.

Besides, he does like the idea of Dick leaving Bruce’s corner for his. If Jason plays his cards right, Bruce’s plan for a middleman could backfire with Dick not apprising him of every time Jason’s nose twitches. Even Dick can’t resist a mission in Gotham without the Bat breathing down his neck.

“Good,” Jason finally says after moments of Dick patiently awaiting the reception of his little olive branch. “Well, if it’s not a favor to him, then you won’t care that one of my caveats is keeping B on a strict need-to-know basis.”

Dick furrows his brow. “Define ‘need-to-know.’”

“Uhh, unless I say, ‘hey, Bruce needs to know this,’ he doesn’t need to know this.”

“Bruce is a good resource, Jay,” Dick insists. “You’re important to him, believe it or not, he’ll want to know everything is developing safely and efficiently.”

Jason cocks his head left and right like an unbalanced scale. “Yeah, well, I don’t want what he wants and it’s my case.”

Dick purses his lips thoughtfully. His forehead relaxes as does so, and it occurs to Jason that Dick is actually quite expressive. He can see the reluctance fall off his face, track the movement of thoughts across his gray-blue eyes. It’s strange to think that this man with all these open emotions and mercurial playfulness was raised by Bruce and his shadows. “Okay,” Dick eventually says, somewhat pensively, “what do you want?”

It’s an honest question, not rhetorical in the slightest, and that catches Jason off guard. He isn’t equipped to answer it. Jason knows what he doesn’t want, but that’s easier. He’s learned not to want things. He remembers wanting immensely in the life before this one. Jason is more careful now. If he was reckless, he would say he wants Dick here. He likes that Dick has all but literally chased him down to give him that help. He might want Dick to keep chasing him. He wants to be found, to be saved. But Jason knows from experience that those wishes don’t come true.

“I want you to leave the Bat out of it,” Jason reiterates. He says it because it’s easier, and on the outside wanting an absence is like wanting nothing at all. But it is a want secretly, a real one, because he wants to know if Dick is chasing him like he suspects, or if he’s holding a scalpel behind his back, ready to scrape off a sample of Jason and deliver it to Bruce.

Dick doesn’t roll his eyes or argue. In fact, he doesn’t react to the sarcasm Jason had safely wrapped his answer in at all. Instead, he breathes in through his nose, inhaling the terms and conditions, and then breathes them out through his mouth, fully processed. “Within reason,” he acquiesces. It’s not enough and Jason is about to say so when Dick holds up a hand. “I will not contact him without telling you first. And if he sends me anything about the case, I’ll forward the information right away,” he modifies.

That’s another fear to pile onto Jason’s plate. Dick doesn’t even plan on Bruce being forthcoming about whatever he might find on Jason’s rogue. “Yeah, Dick, details are kind of life-or-death here!” he exclaims, utterly bewildered. “I would freaking hope you don’t let Bruce hijack my case.”

Dick has the social graces to look contrite, although Jason knows he’s no different from any of the bats when it comes to secrets. They’re all hard-pressed to feel real guilt over things as petty to them as privacy. Boundaries, like all obstacles, are easily circumvented with a just cause and some zipline.

Once Dick’s done pretending he’s sorry with his face, he sticks out a hand. “Our case,” he offers.

Jason laughs quietly. “Nah, but sure,” he agrees, shaking Dick’s hand. Then he leans back and crosses his arm, shifting his weight to one leg. “I guess the only thing left to sort out is for you to meet the in-laws.”

Dick tilts his head. “In-laws?” he repeats curiously.

“The Outlaws,” Jason specifies as Dick nods and makes an “ah” sound. “Or what’s left of them at least,” he says.

Dick finds his way back to Jason’s desk and hikes himself up. He begins swinging his legs like a child. “I think I already did meet them. What did you call them? Sweaty Su and Fat Lip?”

Jason doesn’t think he’s heard Dick roast nearly enough people to be satisfied. “Yeah,” he says, grinning despite himself. He really should defend them, they’re all he’s got at the moment, but also they suck. “You should call them that to their faces, they’ll love it.”

Dick points at him and winks like the two of them are onto something. And maybe they are.

#jaydick #dickjay #dc #fanfiction for the void

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1-1snailxd-art · 5 years

Text

Libraries are for Meetings

Master List —– Chapter 7

Chapter 8 - Heart-Eyes in the Library

Warnings: homophobia, negative thoughts, swearing, blackmail

Summary: It is nice to talk and feel safe with the people in your company, but cuddles are even better.

Word count: 2967

Note: reading on mobile can remove the paragraphing sometimes. Use desktop site or visit my Ao3 page if it bothers you as much as it bothers me.

________________________

Beginning Note: So, the initial timeline is gonna jump around a little bit because I am a little stoopid and posted the last chapter with an ending that I actually didn’t want to have there. So sorry about that little mess up.

________________________

As Logan finished his story, the pair stepped through the library’s front doors and Virgil absently continued to walk towards his office; Logan now silently following. It wasn’t until the office door was safely closed that Virgil remembered how to breathe.

“What happened to the guys that beat you up?” He questioned, taking a seat at the messier end of the table. “Were they at least charged or something?”

Logan let out a long sigh as he sat at the opposite end.

“Unfortunately, no. We all walked away with warnings and nothing more and I was not in a position to take the matter further. It was safer that way.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It may have been the first, but sadly it wasn’t, and won’t be, the last.” Removing his glasses, Logan retrieved a cleaning cloth from his bag and started cleaning them for a distraction. “Not everyone is accepting of my identity. I don’t think I ever would have accepted myself without seeing how strong Patton and Jason were in the face of discrimination and ignorance.”

Virgil stared at the floor, thinking of all the times he had stood by and watched someone be beaten. The cries for help he ignored. The discussions he’d listen to in silence as hate was voiced and the suggested actions that he never attempted to stop.

He was part of the problem. He was just as bad as the people that beat Logan. He was a disgusting excuse for a human and didn’t deserve any of Logan’s kindness for the things he had done.

“Virgil?” Logan stood and moved towards the younger man; head snapping up suddenly at his name. “Are you alright? You’ve gone quite pale.”

Virgil struggled to swallow, mouth dry and heart racing. “What? Oh, I’m fine. Just - um - I-I-I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Logan kneeled before the other, brows knitted in confusion and concern.

“I dunno,” he shrugged and shifted in his chair, “existing. Making you relive that. Wasting your time. Take your pick.”

A firm, but gentle, hand gripped his shoulder and Virgil looked up to meet Logan’s eyes.

“I may not be able to fully comprehend what has triggered that line of thinking, but I assure you it is untrue. I rather enjoy your company, Virgil, and while sharing my story is…painful, to some degree; it is also freeing to be able to share it.”

“You…enjoy my company?”

“Affirmative. Do you enjoy mine?” Colour returned to Virgil’s cheeks and he nodded. “I am glad to hear that. Thank you, Virgil.”

“No. I haven’t done-“

“You’ve made this week more tolerable and - well, I was wondering if - um. Would you…” Virgil watched as the other man appeared almost nervous; glancing down before looking back up again. “Would you be interested in hanging out tomorrow?”

“Oh - um - I -“ Logan’s hand was suddenly off Virgil’s shoulder and he fidgeted with his clothes as he found himself suddenly afraid of his response. “… I was going to do some work, but I guess I-.”

Logan sighed and felt himself relax slightly. “If it helps, I have this hard drive of personal images that I am desperate to see, and Patton’s laptop won’t read it. I would happily pay you for your services if you are able to offer them.”

“I…” The dark thoughts swirled through his head again, but Virgil mentally shoved them aside as hard as he could. “Lunch would be great. Will you bring your things out somewhere or do you want me to come over?”

“If you wouldn’t mind coming over, that would be great. I have a lecture until 11:30; so, if you meet me near the labs, we can pick something up on the way to my place.”

“Fine with me. I should, um... I've got some stuff to organise in here before my shift starts.”

"Right, yes, of course." the pair slowly stood; Logan backing towards the door. "I shall see you tomorrow then."

"For sure."

Virgil watched them walk away as he turned to his mess of a desk, smiling to himself. Logan headed out toward the main desk to see Katie; thankful Virgil accepted his offer. It would be nice to break up his day before the meeting in the library and he felt so much lighter since opening up to the dark eyed librarian.

"How's it going, heart eyes?" Katie teased.

“Funny,” Logan mused, folding his arms across his chest. “Get it all out of your system now.”

Beaming, Katie stood and started making large dramatic gestures with her body and arms as she spoke. “You look so cute together. Have you seen how red your faces are? They could pick up your blush from a camera in space. I can’t wait to receive my ‘best wing woman’ trophy. Be sure to thank me at your inevitable wedding. If I’m not the maid of honour, I will riot.”

“Are you done?”

“For now.” She raised an eyebrow, “care to rebut?”

“My pleasure.” Perching himself on the desks edge, Logan crossed his legs and fixed Katie with a knowing look. “While I’m sure we do come across as an aesthetically pleasing pair, he has yet to confirm his romantic attractions and I am yet to confirm my own identity with him. While I will not deny some ‘feelings’ towards him; it is far too soon to be making judgements on our potential future relationship status. Considering Jason and I knew each other for over a year before we officially entered our relationship, it would be foolish of you to assume I would enter a relationship with someone I’ve only known for a couple of days.”

“Oh, I know.” Katie smirked and ruffled Logan’s hair as she walked around the other side of the desk. “I just like watching your cheeks redden like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar.”

“You’re confusing me with Patton again.” He grumbled, combing his fingers through his hair and following Katie to the kitchen.

“You like cookies just as much as him and don’t you dare try and deny it.” Grabbing down three mugs, Katie set to work making two coffees and a tea for herself. “On a slightly heavier note, are you still okay with tomorrow evenings meeting?”

“I’ve kept my evening schedule clear, though my morning is very much booked.”

“Meeting Virgil again huh?”

“Wha-How did you-” Logan stammered.

“I didn’t, but I do now,” she giggled; presenting two mugs to Logan. “Take one to Virgil would you and can you remind him about the meeting tomorrow, I’ve gotta start shutting the computers down for the afternoon.”

“You’re really pushing this aren’t you?”

“You’ll thank me later.” Katie called, and walked off to the computer room with her tea in hand.

Virgil had made quick work of his office clean; only the gaming system remained on the table, just waiting to be boxed up and sold on. He was just sealing a small container of wires when he heard a soft knock on the door. It was odd to find Logan there, and he was a little taken aback.

“Logan? What are you doing?”

“Katie made you coffee,” he offered the mug which Virgil gladly accepted, “and asked me to remind you about tomorrow evening”

“Yeah, I saw the library was booked for some meeting. I’m gonna start cleaning earlier so I can get out of the way.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Logan assured,” we wouldn’t be offended by your presence.”

“What do you mean?”

“We call it a meeting, but it’s more of an indoor picnic. Jason used to organise them with needy groups once a month. After he passed, Katie started them as a way to, I guess, reconnect. We haven’t had one in a while though.”

“It can be tough, at times, when it comes to connecting with people after a trauma.”

Virgil’s eyes widened as he stared at his coffee, the words of his former therapist slipping from his mouth before he even realised. Quickly pulling the coffee to his lips, he hoped Logan didn’t freak out over the comment; which is why the breathy laugh shocked him so much. Logan was genuinely lost for words for a moment, but he finally composed himself and nodded.

“That… is a very wise sentiment, Virgil. It sounds like you have some experience in that area.”

Fingers drumming on the side of his mug, Virgil moved to leave the office. “Yeah, well, nothing like what - um - you experienced, but I have my fair share of shadows in my past.”

“Well I’m glad you are able to connect now,” Logan beamed, following the cautious other to the kitchen to clean his surprisingly empty mug.

“I-“ Virgil looked at Logan’s face, a comforting feeling sitting on his chest and shielding him from his usual self-hate. “I’m glad I am too.”

A high-toned ringing caused them both to jump and Logan rifled through his bag to find his phone blaring an alarm. He silenced it before reading the reminder to go get groceries for dinner.

“I’m sorry about that, but I need to get going.” Virgil took the mug from his hands and he nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. 11:30 at the science building?”

“I’ll be there.”

With a final wave, Logan headed out of the library; pausing briefly at the front desk to scribble a smiley face on a post-it note for Katie.

Twenty minutes later, Katie had locked the front door and was pulling Virgil’s headphones off his head before he could start vacuuming.

“What you need, Reels?” He questioned, leaning against the vacuum handle.

“Nothing, just checking in.” Her voice raised in pitch and she rocked on her feet like a child asking her parents for a pony. “So, how’d it go with Lo-gaaan?”

Virgil rolled his eyes with a groan, “I’m going to do some more computer work with him tomorrow. Happy?”

“Are you?”

The question stirred something in Virgil, and his eyes shifted as he considered it in its entirety. When he was with Logan, the voices of his past were at their loudest, but he also managed to silence them much faster. A genuine smile spread across his face as he finally nodded, meeting Katie’s eyes.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“Then so am I. Catch you tomorrow afternoon.”

Waving, Virgil returned his headphones to his ears before starting the vacuum cleaner up. The action was soothing and gave him plenty of time to reflect on the week’s events. So much had happened in such a short period of time, and his thoughts and emotions had been on overdrive. Roman had revealed himself to be a reasonable soul, dating the most selfless man Virgil had ever come across. He learnt that Ethan and Ellie were the same person and gender was a lot less black and white than he had believed. Jason had become a name connected to a face with a story he still didn’t quite understand, but Virgil knew he was the keystone to the whole group. And then there was Logan. Passionate and professional Logan. He couldn’t deny the smile on his face as he pictured them; squared glasses, dress shirt, tie, combed hair, pleasant smile.

“… disgusting...” … “…unnatural…” … “What? Are you a faggot too?” … “if you dare mention him to me again, you can forget about living.”

The spray bottle of disinfectant slipped from Virgil’s shaking hands and split on impact with the ground; the solution slowly seeping into the carpet beneath the main desk. Breathing seemed impossible as memories overpowered his thoughts; yelling, insults, cries of pain, screams of distress, blood and the flashing of emergency lights. The library faded to black as Virgil lost all connection with his surroundings.

******************************

The bus stopped at the top of the street and Patton quickly hurried down the path toward the unit complex. Rows of two-story town houses pressed close together, creating a wall of buildings housing other young studiers taking advantage of the cheap rent and small yard maintenance rates. Reaching the building at the end, Patton slid his key into the lock and felt a wave of relief rush over him as he stepped into their apartment. A pleasant spice smell filled his nostrils the moment he entered; a clear indication that Logan was already busy preparing dinner in the kitchen. Leaving his bags at the door, Patton turned straight into the kitchen and walked right into Logan’s waiting arms for a hug.

“That smells so good, Logie.”

“Your timing is impeccable. Everything is ready to be served, you just need to select the entertainment for the evening.”

Practically vibrating with excitement, Patton rushed around to the TV and started scrolling through their options while Logan set to serving the stir-fry. After placing their plates on the table, Logan returned to the kitchen to split the leftovers into plastic containers.

“Who’s the third one for?” Patton questioned, looking at the three containers Logan had set out.

“No one. I just made too much is all and thought a third container was necessary.”

Patton was not convinced, leaning on the breakfast bar with a knowing grin. “You never misjudge serving sizes. You made some for Virgil, didn’t you?”

“I do make mistakes sometimes, Patton,” Logan assured, quickly rinsing his utensils and setting them beside the sink for washing later. “But should Virgil be interested; I see no harm in sharing our leftovers with him.”

“Sure,” a wink and click of his tongue confirmed that Patton didn’t believe a word of what Logan said, but he turned to sit at the table as an animal documentary started playing on the TV.

Dinner went by with a few laughs and flushed cheeks as the pair discussed their days apart. Logan admitted that he did indeed find Virgil to be pleasant company and a rather surprising positive to come from a shattered laptop. This made Patton feel much better and more willing to confess he rather enjoyed his evenings with Roman. A raised eyebrow, coupled with a smirk, from the science major had Patton glowing like a ripe tomato.

“Pulled those brakes off real fast, Pat. I’m surprised at you.”

“No no no.” Patton waved his arms, but his face only turned redder, “it wasn’t like that. We just - um - He didn’t - I mean, I didn’t - it just… happened.”

Shoving his hands in his lap, Patton pouted in embarrassment while his friend laughed and nudged his shoulder as he carried their empty plates to the kitchen.

“I’m only teasing you, Patton. You know I hold no judgement over what you and Roman do in your spare time.” Patton hummed in agreement and rose from his position to join Logan in the kitchen; wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist and resting his head on their back while they started the dishes. “Was it worth the wait?”

Eyes closing, Patton sighed and recalled his afternoon. “Absolutely.”

Logan smiled and continued his task with Patton holding on to him like a baby koala. Since moving cities, Patton had jumped between multiple relationships; rarely ending pleasantly or being paced at all. The man had so much love to give and was all too willing to give it; often to his own detriment. It seemed Patton had finally decided to take the singles road when Roman asked him out and it turned out to be the best thing that could have happened, and the first relationship the man had taken seriously enough to pace himself. It warmed Logan’s heart to finally see his friend have a positive experience with someone. He’d had similar experience with ‘uncomfortable’ situations before realising his asexuality thanks to Jason. It had always caused him great pain to have Patton recall his experiences, and they rarely left him has happy and content as he was now.

It set a calm tone for the evening as the pair moved to the lounge room, Logan laying in the corner of their couch with Patton leaning against his chest under a soft teal blanket. When Logan woke, the tv sat on a menu screen and showed the time was after midnight. It took some careful manoeuvring, but he eventually managed to slide out from beneath Patton. Sliding the glasses off Patton’s face, the sleeping man stirred and blinked groggily up at his friend.

“Yours or mine,” Logan whispered, bending to scoop his tired friend up.

Wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck, Patton mumbled into his ear and Logan smiled; carefully making his way to his already turned down bed.

******************************

Virgil couldn’t remember if he fell asleep or passed out, but he woke up under the main desk; morning alarm vibrating in his pocket and the strong scent of disinfectant still in the air. Groaning, he slowly sat up and rubbed at his pounding head. Groggily grabbing his phone to silence the alarm he noticed multiple messages had come through during the night.

Ben: I got some friends over and Im feeling a little loose

Ben: Im gonna to need something to keep these lips closed

Ben: Another 20 should keep em shut

Ben: Your silence wont get my silence

Ben: Youv made a mistake now

Ben: price has gone up again dip shit. I’ll call tomorrow with your new figures. You better answer or I’m tearing this contract up and going straight to that library of yours.

Virgil: *seen*

Suddenly wide awake, Virgil was off the ground and racing to prepare for the day. He would need to get a decent amount of money to calm Ben down now, and only one gaming console to sell. Friday was set to be one heck of a day.

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End Note

Hey, so this was the crazy chapter that wasn’t meant to be. I messed up the timeline in my last upload (well done past me) and then my computer had a melt down and deleted most of this chapter 😭 Thankfully, I was able to run a recovery and saved a lot of stuff I thought I had lost (Look at me being all Virgil like).

Anyway, I’ve got E planned to make a return next chapter and give a little more insight into how they feel about everything. It’s something I have been looking forward to exploring since I introduced them, and I feel like some of the dots should start getting connected now.

Hope you are still enjoying the story. Please let me know your thoughts; I’d love to read them. Happy timezone to you all 💜🐌

On a personal note: Flu seems to have finally moved on (yay), but I may not have a job in the same place next year (boo) and my boss hasn’t really given me a clear list of options (I thought being permanent meant I had more security than when I was on a contract, but whatever).

_____________________________

Chapter 9 — MasterList

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary, healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton)

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles

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the-quiet-carrotcake · 5 years

Text

Wayne's Boys

Co-author: @ride-the-bifrost, my muse who encourage my darker side with their crazy imagination!

Relations: a bit of everyone in the back ground, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne/Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne/the boys

TW: Swearing, rape/non-con, chastity device/piercing, non con drug use, underage (Tim and Damian are under 18yo), maybe non-con body modifications, bad touch

It's in Jason's pov, so there's a sarcastic sense of humor and swearing 'sometimes', but that shit is dark. Please read the warnings.

Might continue it but don't hold your breath.

Enjoy ;)

....

Jason is a young man and he has needs. Ones that Bruce, the overcontrolling ass that he is, make frustratingly hard to satisfy.

Wearing a chastity cage that attaches to his Prince Albert piercing just after months of waiting on it to heal up, is overdoing it in Jason's opinion. Not being able to satisfy himself for so long is pure torture.

Especially when Jason is living with the pretty ass aerialist and exhibitionist Dick Grayson, who has a lot of hot friends coming over when Bruce is too busy. Probably watching with his surveillance cameras planted in every rooms of the manor from the cave, his personal sex dungeon and monitoring center.

Then there's the massages. Another way of Bruce to control his boys bodies, checking for bad marks and god knows what else.

And when he complained about needing to come, the bastard handed him a wand vibrator, a bottle of lube and tips on how to use them. Jay marched right out of that conversation. When he went back to his bedroom later that day, the offending objects were there, placed in evidence in an open drawer of one his nightstand.

Just for the sake of being stubborn, Jason doesn't use them for months. He resist, meanwhile, the others keep teasing him about it.

Dick with his wandering hands, his 'advices' and horrible puns, and his ass and luscious lips.

Damian and his comments and criticisms about Jason's attitude and the benefits of sex, at least to stop from being so aggravating at galas, Todd.

And then, there's Tim, being the newest arrival at the Manor, he is still a little shy face to face, but Jason has to sweep for hidden cameras more often and he had catched the twerp in a closet-turned-dark room, developing some not so innocent pictures from impossible angles. The kid's a freaking shadow when he wants to. And talented to boot, enough that Bruce made him a proper dark room for his hobby.

Yes sure, Bruce made each a special place for their passions.

Dick has a high ceiling ballroom converted for his gymnastic needs, high ropes and all.

Tim and his photography.

Even the Demon Brat and his drawing room with equipments to care for his pets.

Jason has a library that would make many a book worm's wet dream.

However, the benefits of being a Wayne Boy can become a tad irritating when you are used to bringing the others to completion while being denied it yourself. Even Alfred's cuisine is just- no. Alfred's food is worth the sexual hell Jason is enduring and more. But it's still. So. Exasperating!

Particarticulary with Bruce and Dick doing their best to make him cave and use the damn thing, maybe with one of them present? Fucking no shame pricks.

As the weeks pass, the building frustration makes Jason quicker to snap at anyone (except Alfy) and is more often found in his library, where no one is allowed without permission, exception of the butler who has a manor to tend to.

…

So, it is understandable that after a good meal and a few hours in his safe space, that Jason's guard wasn't really up, just looking forward to his bed. Big mistake, fully taken advantage of. As Jason made his way towards his bedroom, he bumped into the demon brat, who sneered at him for being in the way or some shit and disappeared in his own bedroom, loudly slamming the door for good measure. Resuming his walk, Jay noticed Tim's door was ajar, lights on. It's late, the kid should already be counting zees. Grumbling about what the hell Damian's done to Timmy this time, he peeked inside the room and seemingly coming out of nowhere, an arm and its twin wounded themselves around his neck, cutting off the blood flow to his brains. The arms were swiftly followed by a large body colliding with Jason's back and legs winding around him for a more secure grip as they tumbled in the room, octopus mode activated.

They landed at Tim's feets, startling the kid , who squeaked, a precious little sound that distracted Jason just long enough that he missed his window of opportunity to respond from the attack and passed out, Dick's chuckling in his ear.

"You're gonna enjoy this, Little Wing"

Before passing out.

…

Jason slowly wakes up to movements and a mass over him. His first reaction to throw whoever it is off of him is halted by the fact that his arms and legs are tied to the bed. His bed. in his room. In Wayne Manor. The mass is his blankets. Fucktastic.

Wait. His ass is sore. Fuck. No. Fuck. Yes. Fuck. He remembers. Dick using him like a fuck doll with his own vibrator. But Gods that mouth wasn't just good at kissing- doesn't excuse drugging him, tying him down in one of the studies and going all midnight special on him in front of- oh God Timmy! The little stalker was there and… Vagues memories of shy caresses… little fingers on his ass. In his ass. Clumsy and unsure prodding… Larger fingers. So full. Guiding the little ones. Massaging. Finding the spot that made Jay see stars. Voices. Dick encouraging and soothing. What kind of drugs did the big jerk got his hands on this time? Wasn't the regular shit folks found on the streets, no that had been quality stuff. He had felt paralysed and numb yet acutely aware of the sensations his body was subjected to. Damn rich people.

Alfred's food alone is worth the troubles of staying in this creepy joint. That and his library. But still-

His nose itching and of course he can't get up. Arms and legs tied with smooth cords, starfish style, with a gag in his mouth to boot. Fucking great.

The light creak of the door closing is Jason's only warning of somebody is in his room. Abandoning his efforts to get out of the restraints, he glares towards the source of the noise.

Bruce Wayne. Creeper extraordinaire! Of fucking course.

"Good morning Jaylad" Oh the rumble in that honey voice. No, bad Jay. Focus. Offended.

"Mmmfgrr!" That'll show him. If only he wasn't gagged… That's probably why he is then.

Bruce glides across the room to the end of the bed, idly takes a corner of the blankets covering the young man's form and pulls, making the more than soft fabric slide over his body and caged cock, and pools on the floor.

"Fhhdgubb!"

"Dick couldn't restrained himself any longer, then?"

Jason rolls his eyes. Like the big boob hadn't spied on them. That room has the most cameras and bugs to catch every angles and sounds in it. Assuredly encouraged the horny idiots too.

Bruce's mouth twitch at the corner, he's amused. And what is that look? …

Goddammit.

Bruce is looking at him like he's a fine dish. He won't be a big help then. Not in the getting out of bed way.

Bruce's gaze roams the fine lines of his body, stopping at his crotch.

The chastity cage shines in the early sun from the open blinded windows. Sign that Alfred had passed. And left him there. By Bruce's order, no doubts.

A dip in the mattress has Jason glaring at the bastard who started massaging and kissing first the feet, and making his way upward, slowly.

Even if he wasn't tied up, Jay knows he barely stand a chance against that shapely mountain of a man. If Bruce wants something or someone, it happens.

That's why Jason's here in the first place. He tried escaping, but you can't run away for long when dealing with a multimillionaire, he has everyone in his pockets.

After some negotiations and mediating from Alfred, the two of them had reached a compromise. Mainly that the library is out of bounds of Bruce's games, also good food (not drugged) and he can go back to school and finish his education. At the end of the day, Jason had a sugar daddy and Bruce had a playmate.

But he wasn't the only one.

When Dick Grayson came back from a business trip, not aware of the new addition to the household, to find an unknown crying boy strapped to Bruce's desk in the study and Bruce himself with a belt in hand.... Awkward didn't cover it.

All hell broke loose and Grayson has been trying to change the first impression he left on Jason ever since...

With those hands kneading his thighs like that, it's distracting him a little from his anger and humiliation at being used without his say on the matter.

Not that good with words and emotion in his private life, Bruce preferes actions, demonstrated by silence barely broken by Jay's muffled protests, as the man's leaves a trail of hickeys leading to his crotch.

Fingers lightly tracing the design on the metal, entwine tiny metal bats with hollow ones, showing the skin underneath. Beautiful, functional and the bane of Jason's existence.

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thingr1 · 5 years

Text

Focus on the Fallout (1/2)

Rating: T

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts, past suicide attempt.

Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd.

Preview: Why was this so hard? Just walk into the room, talk to Tim, make sure everything's cool...

Who was Dick kidding.

How were you supposed to act around someone who'd secretly tried to kill himself not even 48 hours ago?!

Cross posted: FFN and AO3 (6-9-17). (A/N found on both sites)

Prequels: Of Milkshakes and Marathons (recommended, but not necessary) and Weighing One’s Worth (essential to understanding story.)

Second Chapter: Here

Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try To fix you

~ "Fix You" by Coldplay

Dick hastened down the hallway, the faintest hint of worry fluttering in his chest. Okay, make that a sinking Titanic full of worry.

It had been almost two hours since he'd asked Damian to go upstairs and see if he could find Tim. Although he knew his second brother had arrived sometime this afternoon to spend the weekend at the Manor, Dick had seen neither hide nor hair of the teen despite Alfred's assurances that he'd arrived in one piece.

Of course, Tim was infamous for disappearing for hours on end, caught up in some aspect of his work. But he usually at least said 'hi' first.

Reaching Tim's ajar bedroom door, Dick peeked around the doorframe, squinting into the dark chamber for any sign of a tell-tale lump on the bed. Nada. A quick glance told him that Tim's desk was empty, too, and the light in the adjacent bathroom was off.

Frowning slightly, he pulled his head back into the hallway, prepared to check the living room when a quiet, breathy sigh echoed from the opening behind him. Dick froze, whirling around to probe the shadowy depths for any sign of the source. But his probing gaze still found nothing out of the ordinary.

Unless...

Utilizing every ounce of his training, Dick crept back into the seemingly empty bedroom, tiptoeing around the foot of the bed. He peered around the corner into the space between the wall and the mattress—and promptly had to stop his jaw from dropping at the scene in front of him.

Tim, of course, was wedged tightly within the small space, head drooping in sleep. The surprise came from the fact that one arm was wrapped around the compact little ball that was Damian Wayne, who, for lack of a better word, had curled around Tim like a baby koala, hand fisted almost protectively into the front of Tim's sweater without any hint of malice or attempted strangulation.

His little brothers were...snuggling?

Despite himself, a huge grin spread over Dick's features, and it was all he could do not to coo aloud as he carefully backed up from the scene, phone raised to snap a photo (read as, 'collect blackmail') of this momentous occasion... Only to nearly slip and fall onto his butt as his foot tread on something hard and round.

Soundlessly regaining his balance while mentally screaming curses, Dick bent down to grasp the cold, metal object that had nearly sent him flying.

Squinting, his heart stuttered in his chest as the thing glinted in the pale moonlight wafting between the curtains. It was a bullet.

Immediately on alert, Dick glanced at the window, searching for any signs of forced entry. None. Nevertheless, he swept his eyes over the room again for some indication that there was an intruder hiding in the shadows, double checking for any blood visible on either the floor or his two brothers. Nada.

Another glitter of metal twinkled in his peripheral vision, and he whirled around to face the corner. Five more bullets lay scattered on the floor. In addition to a presumably empty gun and a familiarly patterned knife.

But...these weren't bullet shells; they were complete bullets, meaning they hadn't actually been fired at anything. Which probably ruled out an intruder.

Taking a quick glance to ensure his brothers hadn't stirred, Dick ghosted toward the corner, crouching beside the two abandoned weapons.

With unerring certainty, he took in the design on the hilt of the knife: The symbol of the house of Al Ghul. This was Damian's knife. And the gun...he'd never seen the gun before.

The pieces slowly clicked into place in his mind, but Dick refused to acknowledge the horrific picture they were building.

This couldn't be right. He needed more evidence. There was no way…it wasn’t right, it…

Dick’s eyes wandered to his peacefully sleeping brothers. No. Before he dared draw such a terrible conclusion, he needed proof. He needed a witness.

And seeing as Damian was the one who'd walked in on Tim...

Creeping from the bedroom, Dick carefully eased the door closed behind him. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow, he was going to find out exactly what happened between his two youngest brothers.

It was almost two days later before Dick found an opportunity (mustered the courage) to bring it up to the former assassin. The two of them were in the library, Damian stretched out on the couch reading a book while Dick curled in a nearby armchair, fingers tapping nervously on his knee. Considering the circumstances, it was all he could do not to be more conspicuous. It was approaching their usual patrol time, the sun just visible over the horizon outside the window at his back.

Well…might as well get this over with before he did something stupid like stalk Tim across the rooftops due to unfounded paranoia.

Before Dick could fully process his decision, his mouth opened: "Damian."

The boy froze for a millisecond, fingers clenching almost imperceptibly around the edges of the book before relaxing—instant red flag. "What is it, Grayson?" Damian snapped, annoyed.

If Dick didn't know him so well, he probably wouldn't have caught the slight shrill quality in Damian's voice. (Damian may have been a good liar, but when something was pressing on his mind that he knew he shouldn't be keeping to himself, he’d never been very good at hiding his guilt.)

No point in beating around the bush; especially since it was clear Damian had more than an inkling about what was about to go down.

Dick hesitated, sucking in a breath. Half out. “I need to know what happened with you and Tim the other night."

Damian's already guarded expression completely closed off, the book coming up almost protectively to hide his features. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, Grayson."

"I saw you," Dick admitted. "Both of you. Sleeping on the other side of Tim's bed. And I saw the...the things you tossed in the corner. The knife and the gun."

Damian tensed again. "It's none of your business, Grayson."

If that wasn’t a tell as to how serious the situation had been, Dick was an elephant.

"Please, Damian," Dick begged. "I need to understand. Please help me understand. I want to help you, help Tim, but I can't do that if I don't know what happened."

The child before him remained frozen, blue eyes fixed on the shadows just outside the doorway. Dick forced himself to remain silent, waiting for Damian to make a decision one way or the other.

Just when Dick thought the boy might walk out on him altogether, Damian spoke: "When you sent me to look in on Drake the night he first arrived. The door was locked. I picked it open. Then I walked in and...and he..." Damian swallowed, face momentarily twisting with some foreign emotion before settling back into a carefully blank expression. "He had a gun. To his head."

Dick sucked in a breath. He'd been hoping against hope that the obvious wasn't true; had struggled to come up with any scenario other than the one that was staring him in the face.

But apparently his striving was in vain.

"How did you convince him not to?" Dick asked carefully. There was no point in asking if Damian was responsible for Tim's change of heart; Tim wouldn’t be upstairs (alive) at the moment otherwise.

Damian hesitated.

A frozen wave of horror shuddered through Dick's chest. "Did it have something to do with the knife." Not a question.

There was a beat of silence. Two.

Then, “I may have held myself hostage until he saw sense," Damian admitted flatly, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Damian!" Dick cried, horrified.

Flashing cobalt eyes whirled towards Dick, meeting his gaze for the first time since the conversation began. "It worked, didn't it?"

"The ends don't always justify the means, Damian."

Damian's eyes flashed. "Are you saying you would rather Drake had shot himself in the head while I just sat still and watched him do it?!"

"No!" Dick protested. Ran a hand through his hair, mind whirling with the attempt to fix this. “Oh Dami, that's not what I'm saying at all. I'm just...there had to be another way."

"If you're going to say I should have attempted to talk him out of it, I did," Damian stressed. "The point is he wouldn't listen. How do you convince someone not to kill himself if he's so bent on doing it whether you're in the room or not?!"

And...Dick didn't have an answer for that. Then the words sank in fully. "Wait. Are you saying...Tim almost...while you were in the room?"

Damian's studious glare at the empty fireplace gave him his answer.

Dick's heart sank, horror fluttering in its place. "Why would he do that?" he breathed, mostly to himself.

"I'm a former assassin who hates every fiber of his being," Damian answered, monotonous. "I don't have feelings."

"That's not true," Dick interjected.

"I know that," Damian snapped. "He obviously doesn't."

Sighing, Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. This just kept getting more and more complicated, and not in a fun way. "Okay, let's back up," he suggested. "Why did Tim even try to do...that...in the first place?"

The current Robin shrugged stiffly. "I'm the last person he would tell as to his reasons. I do not pretend to watch out for his feelings."

"Which also might make you the only person he can confidently confide in," Dick theorized. "Because he thinks you don't care anyway, he'd think you wouldn't try to stop him."

"He was wrong," Damian spat vehemently.

"I know, Dami. And I'm so proud of you for it. But..." Did Tim think the same way about everyone?

"I'm going to go talk to him," Dick decided, unexplainable guilt gnawing at his chest as he stood, slipping around the couch toward the door. "See if—"

"No!"

Dick froze. Turned around. Forced himself not to snap at the stiff child before him. "No?"

Cheeks beet red, Damian shuffled his feet against the carpet. "He...he doesn't trust you, Grayson."

Dick blinked. "What?" he questioned, even as his heart sank deeper in his chest. "Why?"

Damian hesitated, actually appearing...uncomfortable. A word Dick had never associated with Damian Wayne before.

"You replaced him," Damian blurted. "After my father was lost in the timeline, Drake had a sum total of one person he cared about left, and that was you. You betrayed his trust when you took away the one thing that had been an indefinite constant in his life: Robin. A role that he admitted himself to not believing he had ever been worthy of, that he felt he had to earn along with his place at Batman's side. And even then he never believed he was good enough. You proved that to him by removing him from the costume seemingly without a second thought. He feels replaceable and unnecessary."

Damian sucked in a breath; exhaled slowly. "While I am not saying you made a poor decision, as I am clearly the better Robin, I believe that due to that instance you have as of yet to regain his trust.” Almost an afterthought: “If he'll ever give it back to you at all."

Later that night, Dick positioned himself at the end of the Manor's second floor hallway, staring at the meager band of light shining under the bedroom door a short way down. He wasn't stupid enough to sift through his thoughts in front of the actual door. They were all Bat-trained, after all.

Why was this so hard? Just walk into the room, talk to Tim, make sure everything's cool...

Who was he kidding.

How were you supposed to act around someone who'd secretly tried to kill himself not even 48 hours ago?!

In truth, Dick had no idea what he was doing; how to fix this situation, fix his brother. Tim may have had neglectful parents that the Bats could blame for Tim’s self-deprecating state of mind, but everything that happened afterward was completely on them—completely on Dick.

Because after Bruce died, Dick had scrambled to fill his shoes in every way, struggled to fill the void the Bat had left behind both in the hero world and in the family by trying to be exactly like him. Unfortunately, that included doing what was practical in the long run without considering the consequences of the moment to others’ feelings on the matter, or at least explaining his reasons properly. And part of the collateral to those decisions was Tim.

And even before that…after Jason, Dick had been so afraid of getting to know the newest Robin—so terrified of getting close only to lose a brother all over again. This fear had carried through Tim’s first couple years in the Cave, before Dick finally consolidated the fact in his mind that he would rather know Tim and lose him then simply tick him off as another dead Robin. Except that initial paranoia caused just what he’d feared, only in a way Dick could never have imagined.

He'd isolated Tim. Most recently by taking Robin from him without giving him the exact reason why. Before, by leaving him alone to deal with a closed off, grieving Bruce who could barely consolidate the fact he had lost Jason, let alone taken yet another Robin under his wing. Or rather, had another Robin force his way under his wing.

Realization dawned. That was what the problem was, wasn't it? Bruce didn't choose Tim. Tim chose Tim. Though that had never been a problem for Dick, it was in Tim's nature to keep at least a thread of doubt, even guilt, hidden away in his mind that maybe because he wasn't handpicked by the Bat, he'd never be good enough.

And now it was up to Dick to try and remove that doubt before it consumed his second brother completely…while also not letting Tim know that he knew what had happened and was trying to help him in the first place.

When Dick had asked for siblings, he'd never thought it could get this complicated.

Before he could change his mind, Dick stepped into the hallway, not attempting to hide his footsteps, but not pronouncing them either. Forcing a smile on his face, Dick burst into the bedroom. "Hiya, Timmy!"

And shoot, Dick's heart broke at the sight that greeted his eyes. The teen looked normal. Clothes slightly crumpled from the second day's wear; mouth curved slightly downward in concentration; just too long hair mussed around his face, hanging over pale blue eyes squinting at the laptop perched on his knees... Looking decidedly not like he'd been about to put a bullet in his brain a couple nights before.

Tim had always been great at hiding his feelings, at pretending certain things didn't happen if it meant forgetting and moving on to a cursory 'I'm fine' whenever someone questioned his well-being. But attempted suicide wasn't something you just forgot. Or something you could recover from alone.

Dick jerked from his thoughts as Tim glanced up from the computer, almost absently. "Hey."

And there it was. Beneath the carefully controlled facade, Dick could see the cracks lurking below the surface—the pain flickering behind the confusion in his eyes, purple bags like bruises on his lower eyelids, the empty hollow of his cheeks....

"What are you doing here?" Tim asked. And Tim shouldn't sound that surprised.

"I haven't seen much of you lately, Timmy," Dick replied honestly, trotting over to the bed and settling onto the mattress beside Tim, careful not to upset any of the paperwork spread over the comforter as he slung an arm over his little brother's shoulders. "S'okay if I chill here for awhile?"

Tim opened his mouth; hesitated. "Uh...sure. Yeah, that's fine."

For a moment, they sat in silence, Tim's fingers eventually finding the keys on the keyboard again and tapping away at some report or other.

"Anything you want to talk about?" Dick asked casually, squeezing his brother against his side and pressing his lips into Tim's soft black hair.

Minutely, almost so Dick thought he'd imagined it, Tim stiffened. Then, "Nah, I'm good. Why don't you see if the Demon Brat needs anything? I think he was complaining about some homework assignment or other yesterday."

"I will," Dick promised, deciding to let the not-so-subtle attempt at kicking him out slide. "Later. Whatcha working on?"

"Just some Wayne Enterprises stuff," Tim said, relaxing marginally as he selected an entire paragraph of text and hit 'delete.' "Finalizing the data Lucius sent me and writing it up in report format for the next board meeting. I'll need to put it in a Power Point later."

Dick hummed lightly, planting his chin in Tim's hair. "Sounds boring. We should watch a movie instead."

He was rewarded with an amused snort. "Maybe later. Deadline's coming up, I have to finish this."

"Need any help?"

"Nah, I'm good." That was a bit too quick.

"Hey," Dick said softly, rubbing Tim's arm. "You know I'm always here when you need me, right? Just...let me know if there's anything bugging you or I need to go kick someone into next week. Don't pull a Bruce and hold everything inside. S'not healthy."

Tim barked a laugh; half amused, half bitter. "Sure. I'll keep that in mind."

It was all Dick could do not to cry as he pressed his lips back in that soft black hair, squeezing his brother against his chest despite the small grunt of protest as the laptop slid from the teen’s lap.

Because Tim didn't believe him. And Dick was beginning to worry that he never would.

Why Dick thought it would be a good idea to get Bruce involved, he had no idea. Desperation? Yeah, probably. Bruce wasn't exactly the go-to person for problems in the emotional department. But with Alfred off on his yearly trip to England (and Dick tried so hard to block the thought that Tim was probably counting on that fact when he decided to pick up the gun), it wasn’t like Dick had many options left.

After briefly checking the locations of the Manor's two other current occupants, Dick stepped into the passage revealed by the old grandfather clock in Bruce's study and padded down the familiar stone staircase into the dimly lit Batcave. As expected, Bruce was at the massive computer to his right, various news channels, reports, and video clips flashing on the multiple screens as Bruce worked his latest case.

Hesitating only a moment at the foot of the stairs, Dick moved to stand behind his mentor's chair, glancing at the rapidly expanding algorithm Bruce was pounding out on the main screen.

Bruce certainly looked busy. But this couldn't wait.

"Bruce."

The man grunted noncommittally, continuing his record-breaking typing on the computer. (Maybe that's where Tim got it from....)

"Bruce, I need to talk to you."

"Later," Bruce said shortly.

"It's about Tim."

"What about him?" Not even remotely concerned—either too trusting, or too uncaring. (Dick hoped the former.)

"He tried to kill himself."

That gave Bruce pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard as white lenses remained fixed on the screen in front of him. "What?"

"You heard me."

There was a moment of silence. Dick braced himself for the coming interrogation.

Sure enough, Bruce whirled in the chair, pulling back his cowl in the same motion to reveal mussed black hair and narrowed cobalt eyes. "When?"

"Two nights ago."

"Where?"

"His room, on the wall side of his bed."

"How?"

"With a gun."

A flicker of something—surprise? apprehension?—crossed Bruce's face, so fast Dick thought he had imagined it. Then, just slightly breathy: "Why?"

"I'm not sure yet," Dick admitted, starting to pace a line paralleling the massive computer terminal, but still within easy talking distance. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

"Who or what stopped him?"

Dick exhaled slowly. "Damian."

Definite bemusement crossed the Dark Knight's features. "Damian," he repeated. "How?"

Dick shrugged. "He talked to him. Somehow convinced him that suicide wasn't the best option."

Suicide. Dick realized that that was the first time he'd called what Tim had almost done for what it was. It didn't make him feel any less sick to his stomach at the admission.

Bruce's eyes flickered with...something. "I see."

There was a lengthy silence.

Finally, Bruce (miracle of miracles) was the one to break it, repeating: "Why?"

"I told you, I don't know."

"Damian must have known something if he talked to Tim," Bruce growled, back to his default Bat-mode. But when Dick glanced back into the man's cobalt eyes, behind the stubborn stoicism, Bruce's expression was anything but controlled. For the first time since Dick had known him, Bruce looked lost.

"You have to know something," Bruce insisted at Dick's hesitation.

"He feels...unnecessary," Dick admitted finally. "Unneeded, unwanted. Like he isn't even an actual member of this family, no matter what the adoption papers say."

Bruce frowned, genuine confusion flashing across his hardened features. "Of course he's wanted. Why would—?"

"He doesn't know that, Bruce," Dick interrupted. "We—I replaced him without his consent. I broke his trust, and ruined what little progress we'd made in the way of showing him he had a real family; one that doesn't believe he's just there for the grunt work and easily replaceable."

And Bruce gave him this look.

"Hey, I'm guilty, too," Dick assured, holding his hands up in surrender. "But haven't you noticed how many of your responsibilities, both Bat and Wayne, that Tim has been doing lately? Without receiving or expecting anything in return?"

The furrows between Bruce's eyes deepened, eyebrows drawing together in an almost scowl.

Dick barely resisted the harsh, 'Exactly,' that threatened to escape his lips.

"We've got to help him," he blurted instead after a moment. "But we can't make it obvious. If Tim knows we know, he'll think that we're only being nice to him because we pity him for almost...yeah." Dick paused in his pacing, turning on his heel to stare Bruce full in the face. "We have to make sure he feels wanted—loved. You have to make sure he knows that."

Bruce made no reply. Not that Dick expected one.

"Look," Dick said, placating, "I know you're not so good with telling someone how you feel, but if you could just...I don't know, actions speak louder than words? Show Tim he has a family."

"He did have a family," Bruce said.

"Yeah, but they weren't real," Dick protested. "Bruce, Tim's parents spent his childhood hopping around the world and leaving Tim to be raised essentially by the housekeeper. Not to mention all those boarding schools. Sure his dad did better in the end, but then he died and it was too late."

Dick froze. "Bruce," he breathed, cold, hard realization washing over him. "He doesn't know what a real family is supposed to look like. We can't show him what's normal family behavior if he doesn't know what normal is." He swore. "Bruce, how do we fix him?"

It was on a total hunch that Dick decided to call Jason.

He sprawled on the armchair in the Manor’s library, staring up at the white ceiling in thought as the phone rang in his ear.

It was only 1am. Jason should still be awake. The question was whether or not he was patrolling tonight. Hopefully, that would be a 'no.' Talking personal issues and all that jazz over the comms, even using their code names, had been strictly prohibited since...well, as long as Dick could remember. For good reason, too. He didn't even want to think about what might happen if someone hacked their line and discovered that Red Robin had nearly teetered over the edge from depression...

His musing was cut short as a disgruntled, sleep rough voice snapped in his ear: "This had better be good, Goldie. I was all set up for a solid 12 hours until you stuck your mighty big butt in the way."

"Tim nearly shot his own brains out, and I don't know what to do."

Shuffling was heard on the other line as Jason presumably sat up in bed. "What? Why?"

Dick shrugged helplessly, then realized the gesture was lost over the phone. "Overworked. Unwanted, unneeded. He doesn't see himself as...necessary, I suppose."

"I thought he'd gotten over that," Jason muttered.

"What?" Dick demanded, jerking upright. "What are you talking about, Jay? This has happened before? Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Cool your jets," Jason snapped. "If you're asking if Tim has tried to put a bullet in his brain on my watch, then no, this has not happened before."

Dick winced at the abrupt phrasing.

There was an awkward pause.

From the other end, Jason huffed. "Look, Dick, you remember how I told you to rearrange the kid's schedule a couple weeks ago so he could have a day off?"

Dick nodded minutely—realized Jason couldn't see him through the phone and added: "Yeah. Why?"

"I may not have told you that I found him doping up on milkshakes just before then," Jason admitted. "The kid wasn't only overwhelmed, but depressed as heck. I swear, I've seen zombies that looked more alive than he did. Myself included."

"What did you do?" Dick breathed.

"Nothing much," Jason said dismissively, though Dick sensed a slight self-consciousness in his tone. "Talked to him, dragged him to my apartment after he passed out. And when he woke up, we marathoned Sherlock for the rest of the day. He seemed happy enough when he left."

If he was happy then, what changed? Dick thought.

At the silence from the other end of the line, Dick realized he may have accidentally said that bit aloud.

"Maybe his feelings never actually changed," Jason offered, almost a question. "He just pretended they did until it became too much. Fake it till you make it kind of thing.”

"Maybe," Dick allowed. "But there has to be a starting point to all this. I don’t know, some sort of buildup. Tim's the most logical person I know. He wouldn't just throw himself into something like...like that."

"Hey, even the best of us get down and overly emotional sometimes," Jason said. "As both you and I should know, Goldie."

Dick managed a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose.” Didn’t bother admitting: “Can’t say I haven’t considered jumping from a high place a couple times. Nothing new, ‘cept, y’know, I hadn’t exactly been planning on catching myself,” because that kind of feeling went without saying in this line of work. But he’d never attempted to follow through.

And that’s where the problem was, wasn’t it? Tim had.

“Bruce didn’t know what to do either,” Dick sighed.

Jason scoffed, disbelieving. “You told Bruce? The guy with so much emotional constipation it’s a miracle the Manor’s toilets are still intact?”

“Okay, first of all, ew. And second, I didn’t know what else to do,” Dick protested. “Besides, Bruce has a right to know if…”

The slightest hitch of a breath echoed from the hallway outside the ajar den door.

"One sec, Jaybird," Dick muttered. Then, louder, “Heigh ho, the hall!“

A shadow flickered in the doorway as its owner twitched.

Too short for Bruce. Too tall for Damian.

Dick’s heart stuttered, dread pooling in his stomach. Forcing levity (denying the obvious), he called: “Tim? That you?”

Jason cursed in his ear. Dick ignored him.

A moment passed.

The shadow shifted, a single wide—vulnerable—blue eye becoming visible in the crack. And then it was gone, replaced by near-silent footsteps echoing rapidly down the hall.

Dick’s turn to swear. “Jay, I’ll call you back.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, ending the call and tossing the phone back onto the plush armchair as he shot toward the door.

Dick's heart pounded wildly in his chest as he bolted up the Manor steps, chasing the fleeting shadow of a certain Tim Drake as the teen slipped down the hall out of sight.

How long had he been there? How much did he hear?

Stupid. Stupid, talking about something so sensitive in the Manor when he knew the subject of the conversation was in the house.

Whatever happened next was entirely on him.

Panicked, he crested the top of the stairs, slowing to a halt. The bedroom hallway was deathly quiet, and ominously empty. Dick's gaze landed on the third door on the right—Tim's room. No light flickered from the crack to reveal if the room's occupant was currently within.

The air seemed to hang still and heavy around him, as if holding its breath. Ha, air holding its breath...

Focus, Dick.

Slowly, he tiptoed to stand before the thick slab of mahogany, hand hovering over the brass doorknob. Bracing himself, he grasped the knob and turned.

The door wasn't locked. Dick didn't know whether that was a good sign, or a bad one. Carefully, he pushed it open, stepping through the opening and leaving it slightly ajar behind him. (The last thing he wanted was for his little brother to feel more trapped than he probably already did.)

He wasn't quite sure what he expected to see on the other side. Well, he had a couple of ideas of what he didn't want to see there. But the scene that greeted him could only be described as...neutral.

Tim stood before his desk, hands splayed on the polished surface and head bowed so his face was hidden by a curtain of black hair. Other than the tense, sharp slant to his shoulders, he seemed calm, his tone unreadable when he spoke: “Did Damian tell you?”

Dick hesitated. "Yes. But only because I forced him to," he added hastily as Tim's back stiffened, fingers twitching against the desktop. "I was worried about you, and after I saw...I saw the gun in the corner..."

"You saw it?!"

"I asked Damian to check up on you, and when he didn't show up for a few hours, I wanted to make sure everything was okay," Dick explained. "So...yeah."

Tim took a shaky breath. "And you felt it necessary to get Bruce involved?"

"I didn't know what else to do," Dick admitted. “He’s your father, Tim. I thought that if he knew, we could come up with something, figure out a way to help..."

He stopped short as he realized Tim had begun mumbling under his breath, "No no no no no no," steadily gaining volume until he was shouting. "No no! This is all wrong!" Tim's hands tangled in his too long hair, yanking, revealing wide, frantic blue eyes. "You weren't supposed to find out. This wasn't supposed to happen. Everyone was just supposed to...to forget and get on with their lives!"

"Forget what, Tim?" Dick asked softly, heart sinking in his chest.

Tim didn't respond.

"Come on, Timmy," Dick pleaded. "Talk to me."

"Oh my gosh, Dick, I'm fine, just please, go away—"

"No," Dick said firmly, ignoring the way Tim’s fingers curled against the hardwood. “We’re Robins. More importantly, we’re family, even if we don’t always act like it. And family always watches out for one another.”

Tim snorted. Disbelieving.

“That wasn’t a joke.”

“I know,” Tim stressed, eyebrows furrowing. “You’re right. Family’s always there.” Then, so quiet Dick had to strain to hear, Tim murmured, “Not like I ever really had one.”

Before Dick could form some semblance of a response, Tim turned, smiling tightly. “Honestly, Dick, you don’t have to do this. It’s fine. I’m over it. You can leave. Now.” Pointed. Calm.

“I’m not doing this because I have to,” Dick protested, fighting against the walls he could see just slamming down around his brother. “Tim, I’m—we’re worried about you. We just want to make sure you’re okay. We want to help.”

“And I’m telling you, your help is not wanted,” Tim reiterated coolly, spreading his arms. “I have no intention of trying anything anytime soon. I can still work. Still patrol. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Dick stared. Shocked and slightly horrified. “What can I do to convince you that I'm not doing this under any obligation?" he demanded, exasperated (scared). "I love you, Tim. We all do. And what you're doing to yourself is breaking our hearts because you're part of our family and we want to help you. But we can't do that if you don't trust us."

Tim barked a laugh. "Trust you? Of course I trust you. It's me I'm worried about." His eyes widened, whole body stiffening as if he hadn't meant to let that last bit slip out.

There was a moment of silence, so thick Dick felt like he was suffocating.

“Tim,” he tried, quiet. “What do you mean by that?”

Adam’s apple bobbing once, Tim suddenly couldn’t seem to meet Dick’s gaze.

“Tim. Please. I want to understand.” (Something he could no longer seem to do easily with Tim anymore, which pained Dick more than he cared to think about.)

A long moment passed.

Just when Dick was about to give up on an answer, Tim sighed: “I was fooling myself to think I could ever be Robin. No one wanted me; never really met the standard.” He laughed, short and bitter. “If anything, it's my judgement that's compromised. I should've just cut my losses when you both said I couldn’t do it and gone back home.” Almost an afterthought, “Would've kept my dad alive that way.”

“Tim,” Dick breathed, “I’ve done the guilt thing. Your dad’s death was not in any way your fault.”“But if I’d never tried to be Robin he never would have died, Dick!” Tim snarled. “That’s what I get for nosing around in someone else’s business. No one ever accepts me, and someone else always gets hurt. Always.”

Wiry hands twisting in too-long black hair, Tim cast a desperate (trapped) glance around the room. “I was never truly Robin in the first place. It never should’ve happened if I wasn’t even Robin… It doesn’t make any sense.”

Dick’s heart stuttered in his chest. “What do you mean? Of course you were Robin, Tim. Why would you think otherwise?”

The teen’s eyes squeezed shut. “You and Bruce said ‘no.’ You know what's best. You're always right."

"Unless we're not," Dick interjected. "You remember when Bruce was stuck in the time stream, but everyone believed he was dead? Everyone, Tim. Except you. Who was in the wrong in that instance?"

"Every ounce of logic and evidence said he was dead," Tim snapped dismissively. "I was being irrational from grief, and it just so happened to work out in the end. That hardly counts."

"But it does, Tim," Dick insisted. "You were the only one to truly believe in Bruce, to risk everything to bring him back. That kind of loyalty only comes from faith. Two-sided faith." Dick approached slowly, placing a hand on the sharp angle of Tim's shoulder. "Would Bruce have left clues if he thought no one would be looking for him?"

Tim hesitated a moment. Gave a small shake of his head.

"He knew you would come for him, Tim," Dick continued quietly. "Because he trusts you. What would have happened if you had stopped believing? Bruce would have been forever lost in the timeline. But because you, Tim, you had faith that Bruce was alive, he came back. You brought him back.

"That's why Bruce trusted—trusts you, Tim. Trusted you to be Robin, and still trusts you as Red Robin. Because he knows he can always count on you to be there when he needs you. Oh, I know he doesn't show it," he added at Tim's incredulous glance. "Bruce is funny like that. You know that. But why would he leave you with his cases—with his company—if he truly didn't believe you were capable of doing it right?”

Tim remained silent, eyes fixed on the ground.

Realization dawned. “Trust itself…isn’t what’s bugging you, is it.”

Tim squeezed his eyes shut. Swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “No.”

Dick remained silent; because contrary to popular belief, he was actually capable of keeping his mouth shut when it counted, thank you very much.

Finally, Tim spoke: “It’s…it’s more the stuff leading up to it.” He ducked his head against his chest, clarifying before Dick could summon the strength to ask: “I just…I find it difficult to…think that anyone can…can trust…love me when…when…” He swallowed again. Clearly struggling. “When whenever I think, ‘I’ve done it. I’m finally getting something right; I’ve figured it out, I know what I’m doing,’ it all gets yanked out from under my feet…because I’m not good enough. I’m not worthy enough, can’t be trusted to get the job done according to what’s expected.

“And then I’m alone again…trying to…to figure out…where I went wrong, and…how to fix it, and sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe under the pressure of having to learn a whole new set of rules and parameters, a whole new personality, and…I can’t anymore, Dick. I want to be useful, and I just…can’t. I’m not…no matter what I do it’s never good enough. What’s the point in trying anymore?”

Tim sniffled, the sound thick with unshed tears. “My parents. Bruce.” A swallow. “You. Just shoes that I never seem to be able to fill, no matter how hard I try. It’s impossible. Just when I think I finally fit, I’m…I’m just booted out before I even have a chance to truly settle in. I’m…I’m so tired of it, Dick. Of…of not belonging anywhere because after so long I’m just n-not enough anymore.”

Tears welled in the teen’s eyes, escaping down his cheeks as his eyes squeezed shut, expression twisting into something pained. “I’m there…to be whatever’s needed at the time: An heir, a partner, a harebrained quest taker. And…when I’ve served my purpose…that’s it. I’m done. There’s…no point, I…I…” His shoulders shook in a barely concealed sob.

And Dick couldn’t hold back anymore. He crossed the remaining distance between them in one stride, wrapping his shaking little brother in a hug, pressing Tim’s face into his shoulder, and burying his own chin in soft, raven hair.

“I know it may be hard to believe,” Dick whispered finally, squeezing his eyes shut against the tell-tale pressure, “especially since our little clan is awful fond of the ‘goes without saying’ habit, but… You’re part of the family, Timmy. You always have been. It has nothing to do with what what you bring to the table, or your partner status. And it kills me that you think otherwise. And the worst thing is, I know I’m to blame.”

Tim sucked in a breath, maybe to contradict him, but Dick was not about to let this boy shift the blame off of Dick yet again.

“I broke your trust when you were at your most vulnerable. When you were grieving. We all were. But in my desperation to pick up all of the slack Bruce left behind when he disappeared, I acted more like him than I ever thought I would: I put the mission before the members. And that’s never been how Nightwing operates.”

Shifting, Dick leaned back, gently guiding Tim’s head up so red-rimmed, watery (shattered) blue eyes met his.

“I trust you, Tim,” Dick insisted, soft. “I do. But when it mattered most, I didn't. I let you down. And not a day goes by where I don't hate myself for that. I don’t ever want to fail you in that way again, Timmy. I know that I’m not perfect. I know that no matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to keep every promise, no matter how much I want to. There’s only one who will never ever break your trust, and I’m certainly not Him.

“But I love you, Timmy. Nothing will change that. And though they may not be great at showing it, the others do, too. Bruce. Jason. Even Damian. We…we all love you, little brother.”

Dick rubbed his thumb against the curve of Tim’s bony shoulder, swallowing past the rapidly growing lump in his throat. “You’re not replaceable. Never have been. Never will be.” Dick pressed a kiss against the teen’s forehead. “This family only has one Tim Drake. And we don’t want to lose him, ‘kay?”

Tim’s eyes were angled toward Dick’s chest. A fresh stream of moisture curled over damp lashes and down his cheeks. He nodded, almost imperceptible.

“Hey,” Dick said, soft. “Look at me?”

After a moment, Tim glanced up. Eyes wide, wet, and so openly anguished Dick’s heart broke.

"Please, little brother. From now on, you have to promise me: Don't shut us out. We're family. I know we don’t always act like it, and we could all learn a little in the emotional department. But please. Next time you feel this way, or next time we’ve screwed up…talk to us? We can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

For a long moment, Tim said nothing. His tongue darted out to lick the corner of his chapped lips. Finally, quiet, husky from tears: “I’ll…I’ll try.”

Dick crushed him back to his chest, burying his face in his little brother’s hair. “And that’s all I can ask for.” Pressing another kiss to his (precious) brother’s forehead, Dick whispered: “We’ll get through this. We’re a family, little bro. And family means no one gets left behind. Or forgotten.”

There was a long stretch of silence, during which Dick clutched the third Robin tightly; unwilling to release him just yet as the teen’s trembling slowly ceased, body slumping farther into Dick’s embrace so Dick almost thought Tim had fallen asleep.

Suddenly, the teen murmured: “Lilo and Stitch? Knew…you were starting to sound a bit too much…like a Disney movie."

Dick blinked, thrown for a moment by his brother’s unexpected statement. Unexpected humor. Then, realizing what he was referring to, grinned. “Exactly,” Dick agreed. “This family really should take some pointers from Old Walt. Learn a thing or two about how families are supposed to act.”

A shaky snort. “You do realize…nearly 100 percent of Disney parents are dead as a plot point...right?”

“Then we should be peachy,” Dick said brightly.

The resulting (watery) huff of laughter sent Dick’s heart fluttering with excitement and relief. Maybe his little brother wasn’t too far gone. Maybe they could save him after all.

Because that was what this family was all about, right? Saving people.

It was about time they turned those efforts inwards.

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1-1snailxd-art · 5 years

Text

Libraries are for Meetings

Master List —– Chapter 6

Chapter 7 - Don’t feed the librarian

Warnings: nightmares (death, assault, guns, fire), homophobia, negative thoughts, fighting/assault, swearing

Summary: After nightmares keep Logan awake at night, he finally admits that he has been deceiving himself about the effects of the approaching anniversary. It's time to admit some things and find a friend. Turns out those golden arches offer more than just fast food.

Note: reading on mobile can remove the paragraphing sometimes. Use desktop site or visit my Ao3 page if it bothers you as much as it bothers me.

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Beginning Note: Art by @the-pastel-peach has been added to this chapter. Pass on your appreciation to them. Please don’t repost the art anywhere (with or without credit). If you want to share the art, reblog this post OR the masterlist (which has the art in the header) If Peach posts the art on her personal Tumblr, I’ll add the link here as well. Respect the artist and respect their work 💜🐌

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Logan woke up with a gasp. His whole body ached as he sat up from his desk, a sticky note inhibiting the vision of his left eye. Removing his glasses and uncharacteristically throwing them down on his desk, Logan leant back and groaned loudly. He couldn’t hide it now; he was slipping and even burying himself in his work wasn’t stopping his mind from wandering into dark territory.

That night his thoughts had been haunted with dark images of all those he held dear; Patton, Roman, Katie, Ellie…and Virgil. Logan found it unbearable that no matter what he did, the moment he closed his eyes he saw them die. Patton and Roman being beaten by faceless assailants. Katie being crushed by shelves of books or held at gun point. Jason’s burning figure pulling a screaming Ellie back into a burning building. And then there was Virgil… Logan didn’t understand why in every nightmare he had; Virgil was there. Standing next to Logan, trembling in fear, tears streaming from his eyes, and Logan couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t save his friends. He was always rooted right next to Virgil. Nothing but a useless onlooker.

Stiffly rising from his desk, Logan headed to the bathroom and was shocked by the tired man that was staring back at him. Silent tears slipped from his eyes and he saw nothing had changed. He hadn't grown at all over the past two years. He looked just as broken as he had the days following Jason’s death. He didn’t like it, and he knew he had to do something before he got any worse.

********************

Virgil safely pocketed $20 as he left the main university library; thankful he had found one poor soul with a computer issue. It was a simple virus, nothing but a tiny gnat that Virgil could easily clean off. He felt bad even charging the dude for it, but he needed the money. Happy to have a few extra digits to his name, Virgil quickly transferred the extra $5 to Ben. He was back to $30 and breathing felt a little easier.

As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly; begging for anything other than instant noodles. He could still taste the meal he had had with Logan the other night and wished he could go back in time and experience it again. Virgil did his best to ignore the feeling, but when those Golden Arches came into view, he couldn’t stop his mouth from watering.

That was how Virgil found himself walking into the McDonalds and being greeted by a very excited Patton.

“Virgil! Oh, my goodness, it’s great to see you again.”

“Um, hi, Patton.”

Virgil felt the crushing weight of every patrons’ eyes as Patton’s loud outburst attracted their attention. He silently wished he could just vanish and suppressed the urge to run right back out the door.

“So, what can I get for ya?”

Patton lent against the counter and Virgil found himself lost for words for a moment as he focused only on Patton’s comforting face. Suddenly aware that he was starring, Virgil shook his head and reached into his pocket.

“Oh, um, yeah.” He had to take a breath to steady himself before continuing. “I don’t really know what I want and I’m on a bit of a tight budget. Got any suggestions for what I could get for $3?”

“I’ve got you covered, Kiddo.” Virgil didn’t think it was possible for Patton’s smile to get any bigger as he exchanged the money. “Leave it to me.”

Virgil distracted himself by reading a promotional sign while the other man worked, ignoring the growing sense of starring eyes the longer he stood alone. Patton quickly returned holding a bag that looked a lot fuller than it should have for $3.

“Here ya go, Virgil.”

“That cannot be mine.” He raised an eyebrow as Patton’s expression refused to falter. “I only gave you $3, and that looks like a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Patton pushed the bag into Virgil’s confused arms. “I owed you, and now we’re even.”

“Owe me? You didn’t owe me anything.”

“For Logan’s computer silly,” despite the smile still on their face, Virgil saw sadness flash in his eyes. “You saved my life that day, and an act like that can’t go unrewarded.”

“I didn’t do anything special. Not really.” He averted his eyes, feeling his cheeks starting to warm in Patton’s presence.

“Well, it was special enough for me. And Virgil,” at his name, Virgil looked back into Patton’s eyes. “If you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask. Okay?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Patton.” As he started to back away from the counter, mystery bag of goodies in hand, Virgil gave the other an assuring smile and wave. “See ya.”

“Have a great day, Virgil.”

Waiting until he had left the store, Virgil peaked into the bag of goodies. His senses were immediately overwhelmed as he took in the fries, nuggets and a warm cookie.

Any guilt Virgil had for taking the extra food, vanished the moment he was back in his library office, eating the treats he was given. He still couldn’t comprehend why these strangers were so giving. None of his friends of the past ever treated him like this, and it didn’t make sense that any of these people would care so much. It had been odd enough to have Katie be so friendly towards him, but now he suddenly had both Logan and Patton practically feeding him. If Roman walked in and started being kind, Virgil was going to scream.

********************

Logan was thankful to see Maggie arrive on the back of her girlfriend’s motorcycle. It had been a surprisingly busy morning at the store and the hour he had to work solo was exhausting. Usually, Logan would have hung around and helped Maggie until someone else arrived, but today he needed to get away.

“Hey, Lo, where’s the fire?” Maggie called as Logan practically ran for the door.

Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat at the mention of fire, Logan called back, “Sorry, Maggie, I can’t stay! I will see you next week.”

He slipped passed the two families entering before Maggie could begin to guilt him into staying. He had one location in mind, and it wasn’t the labs. Golden Arches loomed over the horizon, Logan’s pace increased, and he glanced at his watch to confirm that his timing was going to be just right.

Patton stepped out of the restaurant’s back door, already feeling tired and having the second half of his shift to look forward to. He took a moment to close his eyes and just breathe, when heard someone rapidly approaching. Logan appeared around the corner just as Patton opened his eyes and his tiredness instantly melted away.

“Logan,” Patton did well to hold back his excitement and keep calm. “What brings you here?”

As his friend approached, Patton’s excitement turned to worry as he took in their exhausted features.

“Logan? What’s wrong?”

Logan paused just in front of Patton and tucked his shaking hands behind his back.

“Patton, I have come to apologise.”

“Apologi-“ Logan raised a hand and he paused, recognising that Logan just needed a moment to speak.

“My reaction was excessive, and I blamed you for my feelings, but that was unfair…”

Logan lowered his head in shame. Admitting feelings to himself was hard but saying them out loud to Patton was even harder.

“In truth… I jumped at the opportunity to be alone. I thought that if I was alone, it would make everything easier. That being away from your emotional influence would reduce the pain I was feeling. But I was wrong.” Logan finally looked up; eyes red from holding back tears. “Being away from you made it worse and I don’t know what to do with… everything I am feeling. I just-just…”

Patton placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it an affirming squeeze. “I understand, Logan. I feel lost and confused too. Well, more so than usual.”

Logan let out a small laugh and Patton moved to grab his hands and hold them in the space between them.

“I know you don’t like to show it much, Lo, but it is ok to be sad.” Patton used his thumbs to make slow massaging circles on the top of Logan’s hands. “I’m not one to shy away from it, and I will admit I’ve been feeling more guilty than usual.”

“Patton, I already forgave you for the lapto-“

“I’m talking about Jason, Lo.”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as tears threatened to escape from his eyes.

“Patton…” his voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat before continuing. “You know I have never, and will never, blame you for Jason’s passing. You were not to blame.”

Patton took in a shaky breath. “Neither were you.”

Logan had to glance up and away to hold the tears at bay. “Okay… okay, Patton. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hey, Logan, “ Logan looked back into Patton’s eyes. “I love you.”

Logan rolled his eyes and pulled the other man into a tight hug. They both squeezed their eyes as tight as their arms squeezed their bodies. Only a few tears fell, and they did well to remain composed in the public setting. The sound of the door opening, had them quickly separating from their embrace.

“Woah, Patton, did the kingdom fall or are you cheating on the prince with your roommate?”

The pair turned to face the McDonald’s employee that had just exited the building; a look of disgust could not be hidden from Logan’s face.

“Gavin,” Patton gasped, “I would never cheat on Roman. Why would you think that?”

Gavin gestured towards the pair, “I mean, you were just making out.”

“We were hugging,” Logan corrected, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I assure you that Patton and I have a purely platonic relationship."

"Sorry,” the mockery of Gavin’s tone ignited a flame of anger in Logan’s gut. “I guess I just assumed because you are both-"

"Just because Patton and I both identify outside of what is considered heteronormative, does not mean we are in a physical relationship of any kind.” There was no stopping Logan now as he moved a step closer to Patton’s co-worker. “To judge us as such is akin to me assuming you are in a relationship with all of your friends of the opposite gender. Now, I must ask, would you appreciate those assumptions on my part?"

"No."

"I thought so, and I would appreciate it if you would never make an assumption like that again.”

"Alright." Gavin hurriedly continued on his way, desperate to escape Logan's disapproving gaze.

Patton put an arm around Logan's waist, resting his head on their shoulder. "You sure set him straight in a hurry."

"Indeed. Though we shouldn't make assumptions about one’s sexuality." Patton giggled and Logan put his arm around their waist as they made their way down the path. "To the bakery for your lunch break?"

Nodding, the two headed on their way; both thankful to be back in the others company.

********************

Virgil jumped out of his chair, punching the air with his fist and whooping as he completed a level on his refurbished gaming system. The controller worked perfectly and the machine itself was a little slow on start-up, but otherwise ran smoothly. Looking at the time, his emotions went wild - 4:30. If he packed up and ran, he could make it to Pete’s Pawn Shop and get paid for his work; or…

Leaving his desk as it was, Virgil locked the office and found himself briskly walking to the track field.

He felt rather out of place in his jeans and jacket as people clad in workout gear passed him. It was almost enough to make him want to turn around and forget about finding Logan, but clearly the universe had other ideas. Virgil almost didn’t recognise him without his glasses or formal attire; replaced with running gear that was fitted, but not overly tight. It was mesmerising to watch them make their way around the track.

He looks really good.

Virgil almost slapped himself at the thought. That forbidden feeling of wanting to be around him, to talk to him, to just be happy.

“…It’s disgusting...” … “…unnatural…” … “fucking faggots. All of em…” … “…they all deserve to die.”

Fingernails dug into skin as Virgil clenched his fist to try and dispel the thoughts and memories that swirled through his mind. Mind preoccupied, he didn’t realise he had made his way almost to the finish line just as Logan slowed; tapping his smartwatch to mark the end of his run as he walked to stretch and cool down.

Without his glasses, Logan couldn’t make out features well and despite walking towards him, they didn’t recognise Virgil until they spoke.

“Hey, Logan.”

“Virgil? What -r you doin- here?”

“Katie said you would be here, and I have your saved files.” Virgil followed as Logan headed towards his bag to retrieve his glasses. “Sorry it took so long.”

“What? It’s only Thursday.” Logan looked up in confusion, thankful for his clear sight back to take in the others clearly anxious form. “In my opinion, that is a rather rapid turnaround.”

“Yeah-well-um… Jeez, Patton must be pretty fast.” Logan raised is eyebrow at the comment. “I mean, if you are doing this regularly and Patton beat you to the library the other day.”

“Oh, well, yes. Patton is superior in speed across longer distances.”

Virgil glanced around anxiously, not knowing what else to say, before he suddenly realised, he hadn’t actually given Logan his USB yet. Pulling the item from his jean pocket, he thrust it towards the other.

“Well, here’s the USB with all the files I could salvage. I should probably let you get back to your, um, running.”

“Virgil?” He paused and looked back at Logan as they pulled a sweatshirt over their head. “I am sorry for being too forward the other night. I shouldn’t have made those assumptions about you.”

“Nah, you’re fine, Logan. I just…” Virgil caught himself, not understanding why he suddenly had the urge to tell Logan everything. “I don’t need any help right now.”

“Understood.” Nodding, Logan picked up his bag and pulled it over his shoulder. “I did enjoy our time together, though. Despite how it ended.”

“I did too.” The words left his mouth before Virgil had any time to properly consider them. It felt right and wrong all at once.

“Would you…” Virgil looked up as the other man appeared almost nervous. “Would you mind if I walked back to the library with you?”

"Not at all." A smile spread across his face as he saw Logan's shoulders relax and they set to walk side by side towards the library. "Are you going to see Katie?"

"That is one reason, yes."

The pair walked at a casual pace, neither too eager to reach the library.

"Can I ask you a question?" "Proceed."

"Can you tell me more about Jason?" Logan looked at Virgil in confusion. "You-you said he helped you. I-I was just - um - interested to learn more about him."

"I wouldn't even know where to start. We had 6 years together before he passed away; he was my friend, my partner and invited Patton and I to be part of his family with Katie and Roman."

"Wait," Virgil grabbed at Logan's arm to stop him for a moment, "Jason is Jason Reels?"

"Yes. Sorry, I should have made that clear."

The realisation dawned across Virgil's face as he recalled the photo at the main desk and the obituary clipping of the young man that 'lost his life while saving others from a house fire.' Katie kept them right next to her computer, but Virgil had never asked about them before.

"I've seen his photo in the library, but I didn't know much about him."

"He was... The one who saved me." Logan started to walk again, and Virgil followed; mind reeling over how deep the small group were connected.

"I still find it hard to believe that someone like you ever needed saving."

"You'd be surprised, Virgil." He gave the other a sideways glance and smiled. "Like I've said before, people can be cruel, and Jason tumbled into my life right when I needed him. You know that game we played the other night?" Virgil nodded and felt his cheeks heat at the memory. "Well, Jason and I did the same thing; though we were in a cell at the time."

"You? You were in a prison cell?" Virgil looked sceptical; not believing that someone like Logan would even know what the inside of a cell looked like.

"A holding cell is a more accurate description. You sound surprised, though. Do I not come across as someone you would find in a cell?"

"Honestly, no. I mean...That science outfit of yours doesn't scream badass or anything."

"I am going to ignore that language, but I can't ignore that comment. You have wounded me, Virgil."

Logan grasped at his chest as if he had been shot and smiled at the other man.

"Geeze dude, I never knew you were such a drama queen." "I have been working on my sarcasm to combat Roman's outbursts. How did I do?" "Certainly had me fooled." Virgil stumbled slightly as Logan gave his shoulder a playful shove, "Alright, sorry. Back on topic. Can you tell me how you and Jason actually met?"

The streets seemed to melt away as Logan recalled the event that started his and Jason's friendship. Their pace slowing to avoid reaching their destination as Logan spoke, and Virgil gained a better understanding of the man he couldn’t get out of his head.

(art by @the-pastel-peach - Please don’t repost)

The sun was just beginning to set as Logan jogged down the street, making his way back to Patton's house. He knew Mr and Mrs Smiles were away for the weekend and that would mean alone time with Patton; which he had been actively avoiding all semester. It wasn't that Logan didn't love and appreciate Patton, but his constant apologising for coming out so publicly was overwhelming. The rumours surrounding the pairs relationship had only fuelled a flame that began burning years prior; he would never blame his friends coming out alone on his parent’s disownment of him.

The process of moving into the Smiles household was very quick; attributed mostly to Logan's lack of material objects and modest wardrobe. Though the transition was simple, people still talked, and the move had only ignited the gossip circle surrounding Logan and Patton's relationship. Logan tried to act indifferent as people started making assumptions on his sexuality and his girlfriend, Jade, was supportive for a time; but eventually Logan had to let her go. It wasn't fair for her reputation to be tarnished as well. He thought it was the right choice; the safe choice. He was wrong. Jade was the final force protecting him and letting her go made him even more of a target now for 'faking' his love for her.

Rounding a corner, Logan slowed outside of the local library to catch his breath. He took no notice of the people around him as he filled his bottle at the drinking fountain out the front; evening traffic was nothing unusual.

"What are you doing out and about, Mars?"

Even off the track, Logan didn't wear his glasses when he was running, and so he was forced to struggle to make out the detailed faces of the group that approached him. Using hearing and the general outlines, Logan took a guess that it was Jade's older brother and his friends.

"I thought it would be fairly obvious that I was jogging, though I know you do not partake in that form of physical activity."

"Funny." Is that Karter?

"Regular comedian we've got here, Karter." A female voice.

"Hilarious." another male.

Logan was able to distinguish the group a little better now. Karter was Jade's brother; the female voice would be his girlfriend Hannah and that meant the other was most likely his friend Ray.

"Pleasure to see you all," Logan remarked as he took a long drink from his water bottle. "Though I must be going."

As he went to step away, Ray and Karter moved to block his path.

"Who said you could go?" Ray's voice had a sinister undertone that sent an unsettling feeling shooting through Logan’s body.

"I believe I said it and I have every right to, now please step aside." Logan kept his tone level to hide his true feelings; fear rising from the pit of his stomach.

"You led my sister on, you piece of shit," Karter growled, leaning closer so his face was clearer for Logan to make out. "Did you really think I was just going to let you go?"

"I did no such thing." Logan stood his ground, determined not to falter in his strong facade. "My feelings for Jade are real, and our separation was based on mutual respect for each other. We departed on friendly terms, which you would know if you took an actual interest in her life."

Logan was ashamed that he didn't predict that he would find himself stumbling backwards as Karter's fist connected with his cheek. He knew Karter and Ray were talking, but he couldn't distinguish what they were saying as he miraculously managed to dodge another swinging fist. Acting on pure instinct, Logan swung his own fist; feeling it connect with something before his body was pushed backwards until it was pinned against the library's brick exterior.

"I'm going to make you regret coming anywhere near my sister."

"I only regret coming anywhere near you," Logan hissed through gritted teeth.

He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have said anything in that moment. The words soured in his mouth as they left it. By all accounts, Karter should have knocked him out; beaten him until the concrete was stained red.

Instead, another body intervened; shoving Karter off Logan. He barely had a moment to feel relief before he sensed Ray's return. Using the wall to his advantage, Logan pressed his back against the brick and kicked out hard. The force was enough to knock the air from Ray's lungs and send him stumbling backwards.

"Hey! Break it up!" A voice boomed from an unknown direction and Logan was thankful to spot the flickering of lights from the street.

"Thank goodness," Logan breathed a sigh of relief as he realised someone must have contacted the authorities.

His legs shook as the adrenaline of the situation faded, and Logan used the wall to guide himself safely to the ground.

"Don't even think about walking away from me, Powel!" A stern woman's voice called; Logan assumed it was the other officer.

"I'm talking to you, Reels." The original officer sounded calmer, though his tone was still thick with authority.

"Give me a minute, Sergeant ."

Logan recognised the voice all too well, though he never thought he would hear it at such a time; let alone having the welcoming face squat before him.

"Are you ok?"

Logan nodded but couldn't bring himself to say any more as Jason Reels’ face barely managed to come into focus. The face of a boy he had admired from the track side for years, but never dared to approach.

"You’re lucky I was the one out on patrol with Officer Hend. No one else would let that attitude slide, Reels."

"And I will be sure to thank you later, but I'm more concerned about Logan at the moment." Logan felt a firm hand grip his shoulder, "Are you sure you're ok?"

"I don't think my injuries are in any way life threatening." Though it hurt to do so, Logan couldn't stop the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, Jason."

"Logan Mars, right?" the officer asked, now also kneeling in front of the beaten boy.

"Yes, sir." Logan gingerly wiped his mouth where he could feel blood seeping from a split in his lip.

There was the sound of scuffling and yelling in the distance and the Sergeant sighed.

"Don't you two move, I'll be back." Jason settled himself next to Logan as the Sergeant stood and was quick to yell at the feuding group behind them. "Get in the car, Karter Powel, before you make this any worse for yourself! And Stevenson, I want your butt on that seat before I make you get in that car too!"

"What is happening?" Logan asked as he painfully twisted to unclip his sports pack and assess the damage to his phone and glasses inside.

"Well, Karter was being sexist by not listening to Officer Hend; though he looks like a hurt puppy now Sergeant Harry has yelled at him. Ray is sitting on a park bench with Hannah, looking a little sore. Nice work with that."

"Forgive me if I don't feel much pride for causing harm to others." Logan huffed, pulling out his thankfully unharmed glasses case.

"Fair enough.”

Logan did not appreciate the relaxed tone Jason had, considering they were potentially facing assault charges for their actions. He was grateful to have his glasses on and give himself some mental relief from eye strain; though that feeling was short lived as he saw his phones cracked screen.

Perfect.

Logan and Jason sat in silence, listening as the adults took statements from Ray and Hannah; pausing often for Harry to make sure Karter knew not to leave the car. Though Logan had removed his glasses and leaned back with his eyes closed, he could feel Karter's eyes burning into his skull. It wasn't long before another car pulled up, and Harry was free to return to the boys on the ground.

"What's the story, Harry?" Jason sounded way too cheery for the situation.

"That would be Sergeant Harry; don't smart ass me now, Jason. I'm taking you both back to the station."

"What? Why?" Jason sounded annoyed while fear gripped Logan's throat.

"Statements so far are that the two of you started this whole thing." Harry raised a hand to stop Jason from speaking his mind. "It's getting dark and I don't want to keep you out here for the whole town to see. I’ve asked the station to give both your folks a call so they can meet us at the station later. Let's go."

Jason grumbled but stood with ease, extending his hand down for Logan to pull himself up.

"Thank you."

Logan pulled himself up, but his legs wobbled as he reached a standing position.

"Woah!"

Jason wrapped a supportive arm around Logan's middle, and Harry steadied him from the other side as he took a moment to find his feet from sitting.

"You good, Mars?"

"Apologies. I was jogging prior and I do believe I may have overexerted myself from this whole situation. I will be fine."

"We can take a detour to the hospital at your request, otherwise the first aid officer can patch you up at the station."

"I appreciate the concern, Sergeant, but I would prefer to get the official processes over with as quickly as possible."

Harry nodded and Logan felt his strength returning; straightening to start walking towards the patrol cars. Harry stayed close; a shield for Logan from the eyes of the others. Despite being more confident in walking, Jason did not let go until they had reached the second patrol car and were sliding into the back seat.

Stuck in the holding cell, the silence stretched on. Technically Logan could have been in a waiting or interview room if he hadn’t gotten into a very vocal argument with his parents. The pounding in his head wasn’t doing him any favours in regard to thinking logically; but he refused to listen to their homophobic slurs and let them know his true thoughts. They were quickly guided into an interview room which left Logan fuming and pacing in the cell.

Jason sat quietly in the corner and watched; honestly surprised by Logan’s behaviour. Harry had given Jason permission to leave after bystanders had confirmed the boys had acted defensively, but he chose to stick around. Having friends in the station worked in his favour in that sense. Logan had been pacing ever since Jason had entered.

“Want to play a game?”

Logan paused mid step and turned to face Jason with a mix of anger and confusion.

“Did you just ask me if I wanted to play a game? Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Jason lent back and crossed one leg over the other in a relaxed fashion, “come on. Humour me.”

Shaking his head, Logan sat on the bench across from the other. “Fine. How do I play.”

“It is rather simple.” The grin on Jason’s face looked more sinister thanks to the cuts on his face, though it was genuine. “You ask a question and I must answer it truthfully before I get to ask you a question.”

“That sounds less like a game and more like a conversation.” Logan muttered, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

“Call it what you want,” he shrugged, “you can go first. Ask your question.”

Sighing deeply, Logan looked up at Jason; feeling himself relax slightly in seeing the older boy acting so calm and casual.

“I don’t know. What is your current track preference?”

Jason laughed loudly, “track preference? Seriously? That’s your question?” Jason softened as he saw Logan wincing and massaging his temples. “Sorry. Um…200 sprints. Not too long that you lose steam, but not so short that it’s over in a blink. My turn, are those glasses for style or vision?”

“That seems like a rather ridiculous question.”

Jason shrugged, “I’m curious. Just play the game.”

“Obviously they are for vision. Why would you ask such a question?”

“Some people use glasses as purely a fashion choice, and I only ever see you without them on the field. Thought they might have been part of some Clark Kent, Superman, secret identity vibe you were going for.”

“That is ridiculous. Wearing glasses alone isn’t enough to conceal one’s identity.”

“I don’t know about that. Can I try on your glasses?”

“No.” Jason was quick to make an exaggerated pouting face at Logan’s immediate shut down. “Why are you so interested in my glasses?”

“Honestly, I’m not.” Uncrossing his legs, Jason lent forward and rested his chin on cupped hands. “Let’s make this game more interesting. Why are you still here?”

Logan squinted his eyes at Jason, suddenly wary of his line of questioning. “I fought with my parents. Why are you still here?”

“Waiting for my dad to finish work.” It was a half-truth, but truthful none the less. “Why did you fight with your parents?”

“We had a disagreement.”

Logan was concerned about where Jason’s line of questioning was heading. He didn’t know Jason outside of passing him on the track during training or at events. Yes, Logan admired his athletic skill, but he knew nothing about him as an individual. He was well aware of the rumours that circled the school, and town, about him; but that didn’t mean he was comfortable talking about it all to a relative stranger.

“Why did you step in to help me?” Logan’s gaze was fixed as he watched a Jason’s eyes flicker slightly.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Logan smiled, painfully. “The rules you stated earlier, specify that you must answer my question truthfully.”

“Touché.” Jason winked and pointed a finger gun at Logan as he spoke, leaning back against the wall once again. “It may not be common knowledge, but I have a habit of stepping in to break up fights. Though, I will admit, that is normally at school and I’m all talk no action; unless someone else swings first.”

“But Karter didn’t swing at you. My vision may have been impeded, but from where I was standing, you entered the fight unprovoked.”

“Eh,” shrugging Jason winced as a smile sent a jolt of pain through his face. “He had it coming. Did you not want my help?”

“No,” Jason raised an eyebrow at Logan’s response, but remained silent for the other to continue. “While I appreciate the assistance, it wasn’t necessary for you to have gotten involved and cause injury to yourself. Given Karter’s size, he could have easily caused you an injury that could have inhibited your athletic ability. I would hate to have been the cause of the school losing a key track member. I truly do not understand why you would put yourself at risk for me.”

Logan was shocked to hear Jason laughing again, especially when it was followed with such a pained look afterwards.

“You think way too much, Mars.”

“Or it could be seen that you do not think enough.” Logan snapped back.

“Do you honestly believe that I would just walk away from a group of Juniors beating up a Freshman?”

“Anyone else would. Especially considering all the rumours, and don’t you even pretend to not know about them.” Logan turned away, angry at himself for even bringing up the unnecessary topic at all.

“Well, smart ass, those rumours were the whole reason why I swung first and didn’t bother asking questions at all.”

“Wha- What are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to work out that the king of masculinity, Karter Powell, was being homo-“

Logan threw his hands up as he stood in anger, “Why is this such a big deal in the town! Why is everyone so freaking fixated on this? I’m not gay! I don’t understand why I must repeat myself so often.”

“Logan I-“ Jason was standing, but Logan was back pacing the space.

“Just because Patton is my friend, does not automatically make me his partner; nor does it mean our sexual or romantic preferences align.”

“I never-“

“I loved Jade. I still love Jade. The only reason we separated was because she was receiving ridicule from multiple parties, and I felt it was selfish of me to subject her to that just so our relationship could continue. And honestly, I am offended that the only reason you stepped in was because you thought you were saving a g-“

“Logan!” Jason stood in front of him and grabbed his shoulders to force him to stop and look. “I couldn’t give a fuck about your sexuality, but I was not going to walk away from some prick using my sexuality as an excuse to beat someone up.”

The moment of silence seemed to stretch on for hours as Logan processed Jason’s words. The possibility of further discussions was cut short at the sound of approaching footsteps. Jason dropped his arms just as Patton rounded the corner.

“Oh my goodness! Logan!” He gasped rushing forward with Sergeant Harry a few steps behind.

“Patton? What are you doing here?” Logan braced himself for impact as Sergeant Harry unlocked the door and Patton hurried inside.

“I caught a bus after the police called the house.” Patton was surprisingly gentle as he hugged Logan and carefully inspected his face in the same manner a mother would. “I can’t believe something like this would happen. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Pat. This was not your fault in the slightest.” Logan pulled Patton close and allowed him to rest his head just below his chin, sharing a glance between Jason and Harry.

Jason nodded, acknowledging Logan’s silent request to keep facts omitted.

“Just an idiot trying to act all authoritative for his sister, instead of respecting her right to date whoever she wants. Can’t see that prick making that mistake again.”

“Watch your mouth, Jason.” Harry warned, but was only given an eye roll in response. “You’re free to go, Mars. Your parents have completed all necessary paperwork and informed us of your current living situation.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Harry.” Logan turned to Jason as Patton pulled away to stand next to Logan. “What about you? How much longer do you have to wait.”

Jason looked over at the clock on the wall, “should only be another 5 to 10 minutes. I think I’ll survive my solitary confinement for that long.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Harry grumbled as Jason leant sadly against the bars. “Go wait at my desk; out you all come. I’ve got real criminals that should be using this space.”

The group walked down the hall to the bullpen of the station, where Jason threw himself onto the chair at the Sergeants desk.

“Catch you at the track later, Logan?” He called as the others continued towards the exit.

Logan didn’t skip a beat as he called over his shoulder, “you can try, Reels.”

Chair slowly rotating, Jason grinned to himself. He was faster than Logan based on the school records, which made the remark so amusing. Logan was the first person at school that Jason had come out to. Sure, he had come out to his family years prior, and he was more than vocal through the anonymity of the online space; but this was different. Not that he ever showed it, but Jason was anxious to learn if he had made the right decision in coming out. But, one thing he knew for sure in that moment was that he wanted to get to know Logan and Patton outside of the rumours. They were his ticket to moving forward with his personal journey.

********************

Patton closed his textbook as Roman slammed his computer shut in frustration.

“I don’t understand why I need to know all this useless art history crap.” He leaned back in his chair and let his arms dangle loosely by his side. “Acting is about performing in the present. This whole course is a waste of my time.”

“Calm down, Roman.” Patton stood behind him and wrapped warm arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “You know this is just as important as every other course you have taken.”

“I know, I know, but it’s still frustrating. Can’t you stay here again tonight and help me with all this.” The pout on his face was so comical, Patton struggled to keep his face composed.

“I told you, I’m going home tonight; Logan needs me.” Straightening, Patton went to move away when Roman grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit on his lap.

“But I need you too. Let me come over. We can comfort Specs together.”

Patton had his arms around Roman’s neck again, eyes locked and begging. As much as he loved Roman, he wanted to stick to his idea of taking their relationship slow. Despite there being only a 3-year age gap, Patton still saw his partner as being so young and wanted him to have his independence; something Patton felt he didn’t have. Not that it was a bad thing, but he felt like he could never cope on his own and didn’t want Roman to be held back by similar anxieties.

“You have the breakfast shift tomorrow, Kiddo, and you’ll need all your beauty sleep; not a distraction.”

“You aren’t a distraction.” Roman pulled Patton close; eyes closing as their lips met.

Familiarity made their movements smooth and addictive as hands traced each other’s forms. It was almost painful for Patton to pull away; hand caressing the others cheek while he smiled knowingly.

“See, a distraction.”

“Okay,” defeated, Roman gave Patton a fake, sad smile. He knew he had a point, but that didn’t stop him from pushing his luck further. “If you must leave, can I be distracted until you have to go?”

Though his mind said “no”, Patton couldn’t deny his heart; nodding, he stood to pull Roman out of his chair. No words were exchanged as Roman pulled his partner in close again, before lifting them up to carry them to his bedroom.

The outside world faded away while they were together. There was no anniversary, no study, no work. Just the two of them, four walls and a queen-sized bed. When Katie shuffled through the front door, arms loaded with groceries, Patton was just packing up his things to leave.

“Have a productive afternoon, PB?” she questioned while heaving the bags into the kitchen.

“Always, Mama Kay.” Patton slipped on his backpack and moved to give Katie a brief hug. “Always. I’ll catch you tomorrow night.”

Katie smiled to herself as she restocked the kitchen, hearing the front door click shut as Patton left. It was good to see things were back to normal; especially with the anniversary fast approaching.

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End Note:

Hello, you lovely and supportive reader. Sorry this update took so long. I actually had the chapter done last weekend, but I got hit with the flu and didn't feel in a good headspace for editing. I'm at about 70% so hopefully not too many mistakes have slipped through.

Anyway, not going to lie to you all, the next chapter may be a while. My heart says 2 weeks, but I am learning nothing ever goes to plan around here. With that being said though, I do post samples on Tumblr. If you ever feel like it's taking too long, just check there and you might be lucky enough to find a sample (or art....I'm not gonna say I'm addicted, but I think I might be addicted to the thrill of seeing ideas from my head brought to life).

Thanks again for reading and happy timezone to you all 💜🐌

UPDATE: again, please don’t repost the art by Peach. Reblog this post or I have put the art as the header for the Masterlist that you can reblog. If Peach posts the art on her personal Tumblr, I will of course add that link here as well.) 💜🐌

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Chapter 8 — Master List

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary, healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton)

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles

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