#Janet Drake is a scary lady

[miss-choco-chips]

What if- Janet Drake was a good mom

Hers.

This little… warm and squishy ball of spit was hers. 

Her son.

His eyes still not defined, bald little head fragile under her hand and so, so vulnerable, she wouldn’t have believed he had come out of her  if not for the pain still lingering on her body and the vomit stains on that hateful nurse’s shirt, the one that talked to Janet in cooing, condescendent voice during the whole birthing process. Her son had rightfully avenged her honor by burping all over her the moment she took him out of his mother’s arms.

Her arms.

God, she was a mother. She was this baby’s mother.

Sitting by her bedside with his stupid, well meaning smile, Jack apologised half heartedly at the nurse, ignoring the proud look his wife was giving the little creature back on her grasp. He had given up on trying to take him from her, too. The almost hiss he had gotten after the first three tries was enough to let him know that wouldn’t fly well a fourth time. Slow, but he had learned not to come between a new mother and her child. Specially not a vicious, dangerous new mother like her.

-So, what’s this cutie’s name? -asked the (still annoyingly chirpy) nurse, notepad at the ready.

Jack looked at his wife and waited. He had asked for the middle name to be Jackson -which had gotten him an eye roll from the back then still pregnant lady-, and let the first one for her to decide. He hadn't tried to argue that right out of her, because, well, he valued his life and health and, despite what many people thought, wasn’t completely stupid.

Janet looked down to the- to her baby, and smiled lightly. Still high from the thrill of having brought to life something so perfect, it took her barely a moment to decide. 

-Timothy. Timothy Jackson Drake.

To honor God, in thanks -if he or her actually existed- for having let one of their angels down to earth and into her arms.

Yes, she was still hormonal for giving birth, So sue her.

The nurse cooed and took her baby again, to clean him up and measure him.

He vomited on the neckline of her scrubs this time, directly on skin.

Janet laughed.

Her son.

---.---

The party was socially required and expected. It would stain both her and Jack’s reputation if they didn’t give in to the unspoken rule. People would  no doubt start wondering why weren’t they showing off their offspring. What was wrong with them. 

What was wrong with him.

That, mainly, was what got Janet to accept it and organize the whole affair. In between, of course, to leading the company and tending to Timothy. If it was only about her, she’d first let the whole world burn than subject her son to the stupid but voracious pack of wolves that Gotham’s elite was, but if they started talking shit about him, her options were to give in to their demands or silence them the easy way. And, after a quick talk with her lawyer, she decided on the actually legal option.

Not that she couldn't get away with the other one. But she wasn’t about to contaminate her hands, the hands that held her son, with those fools’ blood. What if stupidity was contagious? She wasn’t taking that risk. Jack’s genes were enough of a wild card as it was.

A tea party seemed the most appropriate option. A ball would upset Timothy’s carefully planned sleeping schedule (as in, closely monitored so any time he woke up at night, it would always fall in Jack’s designated ‘baby duty’ hours; two weeks into it, she expected another three before he catched on), and with a tea afternoon she had an excuse to disappear back into the Mannor when -not if; when- their half witted guests started to get too much on her nerves, claiming ‘Timothy’s bedtime’ as a perfect getaway.

Halfway through it, though, she realized it wasn’t all bad. No one tried to hold her baby -men probably too uninterested in the actual child beyond the expected pleasantries, the women scared away by her ‘I fucking dare you, bitch’ glare-, Jack was properly entertained by tending to the guests, the staff doing a good job of maintaining the insides of the closed off awning at the proper temperature to keep the star of the party from catching a cold, and anyone entering the place came bearing an offering to Timothy, like peasants at a deity’s temple. It was satisfying to watch. 

‘He’s going to be everyone here’s boss, one day. The city will be his’, Janet smiled, accepting with a tilted head another gift, adding it to the growing pile on the big chest she ordered for the occasion, every socialite trying to outdo the former one.

It was going perfectly fine, and she had almost forgotten her reluctance to the whole thing, when everything inevitably crashed and burned.

Because there were a set of arms extended in her direction, accompanied by a polite ‘May I?’.

If the reaction of the people closest to her was an indication, the sound that came out of her mouth was an actual growl. Instinctively, she drew her arms closer to her chest, baby hold as tight as possible, as if she might protect him better like that.

Timothy, the angel, didn’t protest. He barely ever cried, and never when with her. Just gazed up at her face, his own eyes starting to gain pigment day by day, looking now almost completely like hers a good month after his birth. 

Hers.

Jack appeared by her elbow in barely a second, a wonder since he was at the other side of the backyard the last time she saw him, entertaining people in the farthest of the awnings she had had set. Nicole, her lawyer and one of the few people she was willing to call a friend, was at her other side a moment later, sider glass at hand and looking between her and the brave -stupid- man with equal parts amusement and trepidation.

Bruce Wayne was asking her for a turn holding her child. Nineteen year old Brucie, who had just come back to Gotham after his nine year ‘sabbatical’ from who knows where, with a high school title she was almost completely certain he had faked. Brucie, who acted as a fried brained, goofy, easy going guy, well meaning despite his supposed shortcomings in the mind department. Who was her playmate a time or two during their childhood, which is why she knew he was too damn smart to be who he showed to the society.

Or, maybe not so smart. He was asking for her baby, after all.

For a minute, Janet merely assessed him, two predators staring the other down, looking for weakness, soft spots to sink teeth into. Literally, in her case, if he tried to pry her son away. There was the shadow of amusement hidden behind the dumb, fake smile in his face. The bastard probably was asking just to watch her try to summon her inner meta human and fry him with heat vision. Oh, if only.

While she was busy staring down the threat and looking for an answer stronger than ‘fuck no’, Jack pulled a quick one over her, sliding his arms between hers, retrieving the still and warm bundle, and depositing him in Wayne’s arms, all in one smooth move.

The betrayal. Jack was sleeping on a guest’s room for the next year. How dare he give her child away? And to this man, of everyone? Smart as she may know him to be, who could promise her no harm would come to Timothy so far away from her arms?

Gods above, what if Wayne dropped him? Then she would have to throw him off a plane. Into open waters. Right in the middle of a shark circle. Tied up. 

With rocks weighing his feet.

Nicole gently grasped her upper arm, just below the dress’ sleeve (a lovely red, perfect for hiding blood stains), a gesture that might have gotten her a hole on her toes the exact size of Janet’s stiletto heel, hadn’t she been busy watching Wayne accomodate his arms to better hold her son.

At least he was supporting his head. He wasn’t a complete fool, then. Not like Jack, who might as well start writing his will (dedicated entirely to her and their son, of course).

-He… -Wayne wasn’t looking at her anymore (in any other situation, where he wasn’t holding precious cargo, a mistake), eyes drawn to Timothy’s, who returned the gesture without a hint of fear.

-He, what? -barked the offended mother, now held in both sides by best friend and husband, the only force keeping her from making a scene.

The young man smiled, still not parting his gaze from the baby. She could understand the sentiment; it was hard to look away from perfection like that.

-He looks like you -was the honest answer. A finger carefully caressed the soft, round cheek, and Timothy’s toothless mouth parted in a pure, innocent, bright giggle.

Well. Maybe Wayne wasn’t quite so bad. He’d be allowed to live another day.

-What was his name, again?

Relaxing a little, since he seemed to have an adequate grasp on the baby, Janet composed herself and answered.

-Timothy Jackson Drake.

The blank expression that overtook the man for a second when the middle name was pronounced made her feel slightly vindicated. She, too, thought it dumb the need to put himself plus the word ‘son’ on a baby. As if they didn’t already know Timothy was his. Whatever, she couldn’t complain. Any other choice about their son was hers to make, she couldn’t exactly deny Jack that one request.

Said child choose that moment to move, raising his tiny arm from the depths of his blankets, catching Wayne’s finger in a miniscule fist.

Janet saw the exact second the man melted. Huh. Well, there was an idea.

Not like it was needed, but the love and protection of one of the most rich men on earth, the richest in Gotham, might end working up on Timothy's favor. One could never have too many minions willing to put themselves at risk for their master’s wellbeing, after all.

Janet looked at Wayne, playfully moving the finger in her son’s grasp, eliciting another laugh from him in payment, and let her mind whirl.

----.----.

A little over a week later found Janet sitting on the floor next to her desk, important documents scattered around her. Timothy was napping in her lap, hence why she wasn’t on the chair (too much of a risk of falling), while she worked. Jack had been sent to entertain the board of directors of DI, one of the only chores she trusted him to not fuck up without her supervision, so mother and son had the evening to themselves.

That was, until the phone rang. Snake-quick, she raised a hand and snatched it from the desk, eyes scanning her son’s sleeping face to make sure he hadn’t woke. When she was assured, she held the device to her ear.

-Really, Jannie? Wayne? You choose Wayne as a godfather? Did giving birth melt your brain?

Swiftly, she hanged up. Then, just in case, she stretched her arm and unplugged the machine. 

Five minutes later, the butler came in, holding her cellphone (which she never had on herself during Tim’s nap time) on a silver platter. She waved him away.

Half an hour passed, and Nicole walked into her favorite tea room while she was breastfeeding her baby. Her venom-green eyes shone gleefully, kinda like they did when she utterly crushed her opponents in court.

Because she was her best friend, and Jantet reluctantly liked her, she had sent the lawyer a copy of Timothy’s daily schedule, so to be sure Nicole would never interrupt it and thus get murdered by his mother. It was no coincidence she entered the room just as Tim was finishing his evening feeding.

-Janet, wonderful to see you! 

-Tell that brain dead, lavender wearing fool that I’m not taking his call.

The other woman barreled on, ignoring her. She was lucky she was holding her son; more difficult to dismember someone.

-Aww, how’s my little baby godson? Had a good nap? 

Sighing, Janet offered the bundle of spit and genius that was her baby to her for burping duty, something she didn’t even do with his father.

-Hello, Nicole, nice to see you too. Or it would be, had I actually invited you over -she played along, accepting a cup of coffee from the maid while Nicole sat at the other side of the small table, baby held against her shoulder, little towel protecting her blouse from any substance the baby might cough up.

She would hope he puked all over her, but that would mean he’d have an upset stomach. So she switched to hoping Nicole would spontaneously combust.

-Oh Jan, you say the funniest things. Hey, one guess as to who called me half an hour ago!

Finally to the point- Tell that waste of space, colorblind idiot that if he wants to keep his place in the stock market, to never bother me again when I’m spending quality time with my son.

-He was sleeping, Jan.

-Are you a mother? No. Shut up.

Nicole rolled her eyes, and, after a few burps, cradled the baby more securely in her arms. Timothy immediately started playing with her long necklace, which she probably wore for that particular purpose, as she wasn’t particularly fond of such colorful jewelry.

-Can you even drink coffee while you’re breastfeeding? 

A scowl- It’s decaffeinated. I’m just desperate for even a taste. I have the service saving all the empty cans of this aberration, and I’m making a burning pyre with them the moment I’m allowed to drink the good kind again.

Nicole threw her head back and laughed, long black hair tragically held in a bun to keep away from the baby’s greedy chubby fingers.

-The doctor ordered it for Timmy’s good, I’m sure you can’t be that mad about it.

-I’m sure your parents must have indulged in far more dangerous vices during your conception and pregnancy, and you don’t seem worse for that.

-That’s as close a compliment I’m ever getting from you, huh? It doesn’t change the fact that I’m not your secretary, Jan. Pick up the damn phone, if only to tell Luthor to stop calling me to reach you.

As on cue, Nicole’s phone, carefully placed in the table between them, rang. Both women stared it down for a few seconds, before locking eyes. When the loud noise started making Timothy grumble and whine, Janet sighed and picked it.

-What do you want, you sad excuse of a businessman?

-So it was a good idea to call your lawyer. Hello, Janet, how is your afternoon?

-Getting worse by the minute.

-That’s no way to speak to your dear old friend.

And she couldn’t even have her usual migraine medication. Now she understood why many women choose to hire someone else for breastfeeding; if she trusted anyone else with her son to that degree, she might have done the same.

-And speaking of things that are rude to do to your favorite people, choosing someone else as godfather for your one and only son is quite the insult.

Nicole, even though she couldn’t hear the other end of the line, was smirking as she rocked the baby. Seemingly having the time of her life.

-One; you are not, by a long shot, one of my favorites. That’s a list of two, and you wouldn’t  make the cut even if one of them died.

-Timothy and Jack?

-Timothy and Nicole. Jack is currently being punished for daring give my son to someone else, and has been demoted.

-Hmm. And two?

-Two: who’s to say I’m not having another child?

-Please, you wouldn’t be able to go another year without coffee.

True, but still- Don’t presume to know my limits.

-Why him? -Insisted the man, and if they weren’t such good friends (and old classmates, from back in the day) she would have thrown the phone halfway across the rome at his pathetic whine- Is this an insult to me? Are you trying to communicate your displeasure over something I did lately? You could have done that a thousand ways, without giving such a honor to someone like Wayne.

She sighed. Nicole’s attention turned to the baby currently patting at her chin, and she let her eyes wander over them both.

-I needed someone willing to risk his life for my baby. Wayne seems like the kind of man that would, if he cares enough for someone.

-And you’re saying I wouldn’t. That…

-...is completely true. You would kill, and let other people die, and for that I already have someone -Nicole blinked in her direction, venomous green eyes stone cold for half a second before her smirk took the edge off it-. Wayne is here to provide light heartedness, and if the situation called for it… well. And you, as my friend and business partner, are bound to provide safe sanctuary when he undoubtedly reaches adolescence and runs from home in a rebellious bout.

-Still a pathological need to plan sixteen years into the future, I see.

-Still a pathological need to be chosen first, I see. I’m having memories of back in school when someone was elected first for a team during PE.

----.----.

Her baby is a genius. Of course, it was expected, being her son and everything; but with Jack’s ‘normal’ genes in the way, it was a coin toss as to whether he’d take after her or him.

He starts talking way before other babies do. Momma, Dadda, I’ole for his godmother, Bose for his godfather, and Atez for Lex. He knew how to ask for water or food, and to be carried. He had also learned to walk, although clumsily, and would be seen following after Janet’s skirts as she circled around the Manor attending to her various duties.

She was so proud of him. So excited each day, floating in a cloud of wonder of ‘what will he learn next?’, ‘how will he surprise me today?’. Nicole and Alexander were a stronger than ever presence in their lives, with Timothy as an excuse to visit as often as she would allow. And, in the softness granted to her by motherhood, she was far more lenient than she’d ever been. Still bringing fear into the hearts of whoever dared cross her but… less bloodthirsty, if her best friend’s words were to be believed.

Then, Jack came, practically demolishing her peacefulness and joy  with all the grace and delicacy of a grinning, hammer wielding moron.

-Dear! I got the perfect site for the next digging.

Time seems to stop, for her, as breathing turns suddenly an unachievable chore and her steely eyes bore into her husband’s happy ones. 

Jack, who seems to have forgotten about the very same baby currently in Janet’s arms, who had her blouse in a tight grip -as if suspecting of the situation, keeping her close-, drooling a little over the little blanket handmade by Wayne’s butler.

Her little bundle of spit, snot and genius. Her baby.

She had known, intellectually, that things were bound to change, the moment her baby was born. She had all but decided, back then, that she’d hire some good  babysitter and keep going things the way she liked them, flying from digging site to digging site, remotely managing the company and meeting her friends at fancy galas. With enough money, keeping her lifestyle, and still get her son the care he needed, without her sacrificing anything, was affordable.

But now, it was different. If she went, she would be sacrificing things. She’d be leaving the chance of seeing her son grow behind. She would be putting him in someone else’s arms and hope they’d raise him the way she wanted. 

Her son. Hers.

She looked down to the baby in her arms, and then up at her husband. Jack loved archeology, he would be leaving with or without her. 

Breathing in deeply, Janet made her choice.

#Janet drake #jack drake #Tim drake #Lex luthor #Nicole (oc) #Bruce Wayne #Listen if Janet was a good mom she'd be a bloodthirsty bear mom #janet drake is a good mom #Jack drake is still a bad dad #if you look at her son and blink three times in a row janet is gonna take it as an insult and gut you #if you look at her son and don't bow she's gonna gut you #really just keep away from her son or she'll gut you #Janet Drake is a scary lady #my writting #Janet Drake au

[fhujami]

Helpless when she smiles | Chapter 29 [Sam Drake x Reader]

Pairing: Samuel Drake x Plus Size!Reader

Words: 1248

Tags: @dragonjedihobbit @missdictatorme @toniinhere​

Helpless when she smiles

Chapters 1 - 9  -  Chapters 10 - 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28 - Chapter 29 -  Chapter 30 - 39 -   Chapter 40

Chapter 29

When the doorbell rang, you rushed to the door, while you tried to ease yourself. You were excited to tell your friends that you’re having twins.

You opened the door, seeing Janet and Annie standing there, with a flower bouquet and chocolate in their hands. You smiled to them and hugged them while gesturing them to come inside. Sam had went to visit his brother and then he’ll go to store to buy groceries, so you had a moment to spend a time alone with your friends.

You put the flowers into a vase and put the coffee maker on, to made three of you some coffee, till you waited to Violet to come too.

You went to sat on the couch, while you opened the chocolate and took a piece and started to talk with your friends.

When the coffee was ready, you served the coffee to your visitors, when Janet’s phone beeped when she had a text message. She took her phone and read it, and she sighed.

“Violet cannot come.” Janet told you and put her phone down.

“Well I guess I tell her later then.” You told and smiled, and took a sip from your coffee.

“Tell her what? She know’s you are pregnant.” Annie said with confuse. You look at your friends with a smirk on your face.

“I something wrong?” Janet asked and put her hand on your knee.

“We are having twins.”

There was a deep silence, you could almost hear the traffic from outside of the building, the silence was that deep. You friends looked at you with blank gaze, waiting you to tell them you’re joking.

“Stop joking!” Annie finally screamed when she realized that this wasn’t a joke. You got up from the couch and walked to take the ultrasound picture and walked back to your friends. They followed you with their eyes, until you offered them the picture. Annie took the picture and looked at it, Janet moves closer to see it too.

You waited. They looked at the picture, trying to see if it was fake.

“Holy shit.” Janet said and you started to laugh.

Annie jumped up and hugged you, and Janet came to hug you too, and three of you were hugging each other with such a warm.

When you withdrew the hug, you needed to wipe away couple of tears, which escaped from your eyes and you noticed that Janet and Annie wiped their cheeks too.

“You guys are crying?” You asked them with disbelief.

“Well of course we are! This is a happy thing you silly!” Janet told and hugged you again.

You three gathered yourselves and sat back on the couch. Annie and Janet looked at the ultrasound picture and smiled, and you smiled because they smiled.

Annie put the picture down to the table and spoke;

“We’re sorry we told him.”

You shook your head and smiled to them.

“It’s okay, you did the right thing. I wasn’t thinking clearly and I was acting hasty.”

You were mad them first for telling Sam that you were going to do abortion, but after the first shock you realized it was only and right thing to do. And you would have regret it for the rest of your life.

“We just think he deserved to know. Because it wasn’t only you who that was going to affect.”

“I know.” You sighed. “But you know me guys, it took me years to talk to you about my anxiety and stuff. And we had dated like four months back then. Everything is happening little too fast..”

“Slowly, only time with help with that. He truly loves you, and you love him. You always told me that I need to talk with Tony when I feel shit.” Janet smiled to you.

She was right, you always told her to talk with Tony when she had something on her heart, and not to suffocate them inside and let them raise until they’ll explode. You always laughed that even you were always the only one being single, you gave them always relationship advices. Now it was your time to act like you had always told them.

“What are you going to do? You surely need bigger apartment if there’s going to be four of you.” Janet took a sip from her coffee and put the cup back to the table. You scratched your neck, you and Sam had talked about it after you found out you were pregnant, but you hadn’t talked about it after finding out you’re having twins.

“Well, when i found out I was pregnant, Sam told that he could buy us a house. But I told that we need to find another solution because I don’t want to be dependent on him and his money, in case things don't work out. But I think we have no choice now, since like you said, there’s gonna be four of us now and we are going to need much more space to us...”

You sighed. That probably was the best option right now. You needed bigger place, maybe three bedroom, so the babies would have their own rooms when they are older. Before that, one of the room could be Sam’s office or something.

“Well, you two just need to talk about it and do the decisions together.” Annie told and smiled.

“Yeah, I’ll guess we need to take it to the table when he gets back.”

And just like that, you heard how the door got open, and soon Sam was standing in the hallway, grocery bag in his hand, looking at three of you with soft smile.

“Hello ladies.” He nodded and Annie stood up and walked to Sam.

“Congratulations Sam.”

“Thank you Annie.”

Janet walked to hug him too, while you still sat on the couch, looking at your friends congratulating sam, you were happy they came along so well, it meant the world to you.

Sam walked to you, leaned down and crooked his fingers under your chin and kissed you long and deep. “I missed you beauty.”

When Annie and Janet left, Sam came to sat next to you on the couch and you crawled into his armpit and sighed deeply. Sam took the ultrasound picture from the table and you both looked at it.

“I guess we need to buy a house after all.” You broke the silence. Sam fidget the picture in his hand while he smoothed your arm with another one.

“Yeah, maybe it’s the best, so little princesses can have their own rooms when they are older.” Sam hummed, you lifted your head from his chest and looked at him.

“Princesses? You know, there could be two prince’s too. Or princess and prince.”

Sam chuckled.

“There’s definitely at least one princess.”

“What if there’s not?” you teased him, and Sam squeezed you against him and he gave you a long kiss on your forehead.

“It is. I made a princess and princess I will get.”

“You made a princess? Excuse me sir, these two were an accident.” You laughed. It maybe wasn’t the best joke, but it still was the truth.

“But a happy accident.” Sam said and kissed you gently. You smiled against his lips and when he pulled away you looked deep into his eyes, thinking that it was indeed a happy accident.

Even it was scary, and happening maybe too fast, but there was no denying that it did  made you really happy.

#sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #samuel drake x plus size reader #sam drake #samuel drake #reader #plus size reader #fanfic #fanfiction #uncharted fanfiction #Helpless when she smiles #omg i'm sorry if this is bad #i tried my best to work with my brain #i had a idea but somehow it feels like my brain didn't co-operated #but i hope this is not that bad #ILY #fhujamiwritings

[miss-choco-chips]

Brother

The journey from Vodka Aunt to Wine Mom starts with Scottish coffee.

Or, Nicole totally thought this through, shut up Janet.

----.----

Nicole had believed -she had believed it would be… not easy, but easier than it had been, for Janet. She had been blindsided, after all, and completely out of her depth. Nicole, as she was now, had a good amount of practice under her belt- almost thirteen years of it. She shouldn’t be as clumsy about this as Jan had been, those first few weeks of Tim’s life.

In any other world, she would have been indifferent to the wounds, the verbal abuse, the disdain and blatant use of an innocent and manipulable mind. But here, now, she had been an aunt- a godmother, for almost thirteen years. Maybe it was Timmy’s kindness, absorbed into her bones via osmosis, maybe it was the maternal instinct Janet sometimes complained took over her life at irregular intervals to make her a better mother, maybe it was because he reminded her so much of her godson… but she just couldn’t stand it.

So she gathered her resources, called in a couple favors, took the child and disappeared into the night. That part was easy; Talia might be stronger, physically speaking, but Nicole’s mind could moon-walk circles around hers all day long.

But, what now? Back in Gotham as per her plan, where Talia couldn’t just waltz in and do as she wished without an angry bat breathing down her neck, but totally fucking lost as to what her next steps should be.

So she goes to Janet. If years of friendship aren’t enough to get her to help, she could always remind her of how it was thanks to Nicole’s contacts that she got Shiva as Tim’s self-defense teacher.

The bitch owes her.

----.----

Tim isn’t worried, exactly, when aunt Nicole power-walks into the tea room where mother and son are having breakfast -much more cozy than the dining room- and smiles tersely, asking if she could have a word with Janet. 

He is, though, when she asks him to leave the room. Because never before has Nicole cared that Tim heard what she talked with mom, be it a complain about some mutual acquaintance or some confidential information from one of her cases.

He leaves, of course, because he respects her enough, but sends one not-actually-scared -but-close-enough look at his mother on the way out.

The second the door is closed, he can hear Nicole blurting something out, and the deafening sound of a teacup crashing into the floor. He rushes his steps, stopping by his room to grab his camera before going outside. He doesn’t want to be there for the fall out, if mom’s initial reaction was to lose her grip on her cup. Maybe he should call uncle Lex, get a little vacation outside the city (and line of fire).

He’s entertaining the thoughts of asking for a lift via Lex Corp special jet towards Paris vs Japan, when he sees the kid sitting under his favorite tree.

He approaches, curious and tentative, and the kid looks up to him when he gets within arm distance (doesn’t look surprised, like he knew Tim was there all along). The moment he sees him clearly, though, Tim freezes.

The shape of his eyes. The color of his hair. The ears, the contorn of the face, the scowl. His skin might be tanner, and his irises a different tint, but he looks at the kid for less than a second and knows, without a doubt, that he’s looking at Bruce Wayne’s son. 

His heart might have stopped, but the mind is a wonderful thing that never stops working, and the next order of business is figuring out who the mother is. He remembers Nicole’s tight face, her venomous green eyes almost equal to this kid’s, and… Yeah, okay, so this is also Talia Al Ghul’s spawn. What the hell was Bruce thinking? Does Dick know? Does Bruce know?

-Stop looking at me like a buffon, or I’ll have your eyes removed -speaks up the kid, and Tim’s mind reminds him that, yeah, he isn’t looking at a picture, but a real, breathing human being. A six-or-seven year old being, despite his speech.

Manners kicking to the forefront of his head, he crouches down in front of the kid, camera dangling from his neck, all but forgotten by its owner for maybe the first time ever.

-Hey there. My name is Timothy Drake -he smiles, hand offered with kindness, but eyes sharp as he keeps on inspecting the face in front of his. That, and his name, seems to immediately change the kid’s opinion of him, because his eyes widen and he’s quick to return the greeting.

Aunt Nicole must have said something to him about Tim and his special position as Janet Drake’s son, because when the kid shakes his hand (calloused, with more than one scar, probably more used at handling a weapon than Tim is going to be at the end of his life), he’s being almost comically careful about it, as if he’s unsure about how much to squeeze or shake without hurting him. Nicole probably stressed into him about Tim being delicate and how he should handle him with care, which, bullshit, he’s not a baby anymore, not like this kid.

-I see. I’ve heard about you a lot from Aunt during my travels here. My name is Ibn al Xu’ffasch.

Tim blinks twice, smile firmly in place, hand holding lightly into the kid’s. There’s something ridiculous about Bruce’s kid literally being called ‘Son of the bat’.

-...my other name is Damian, Damian Al Ghul.

-I see. Which one do you prefer? 

This seems to baffle the kid, though he recovers quickly. Has anyone ever asked him for his preference on something as personal as his name?- You may address me as Damian.

-Okay then, Damian. I was going to go around the property for a walk, take some picture of animals. Why don’t you come with me? You can also tell me a little about yourself. With Nicole as your Aunt, we are sure to meet often.

----.----

-So you just… took the kid and ran.

-No, I had a well thought plan. And I didn’t ran. That’s undignified.

-Really, now.

-I couldn’t just leave him, Jan. He’s six.

-He’s a genetically engineered baby trained since birth by your psychotic sister in how to be a perfect killing machine. Excuse me if I think he can handle himself. But whatever, what’s done is done. What are you going to do now?

-I… I kinda hoped you’d tell me. 

-...I’ll tell the butler to prepare refreshments. This is going to be a long talk.

-Vodka?

-It’s nine in the morning, you unclassy fool. We are having Scottish coffee. Besides, you acquired a child, you can’t be the vodka aunt any longer. If anything, be the wine mom.

-No, I’m not adopting this kid. Rip to Bruce, but I’m not like him.

-Well, I’m not doing it for you either.

-I’m not asking that! I plan on giving him to his dad to look after, but he’s too…

-Murderous?

-...yeah, that. I’m going to try to ease him into normal society as much as I can before calling Wayne, to prevent a full blown out culture shock.

-This is Gotham, dear. You want normal society, go to Metropolis. But sure, I’ll help you with this. You might have to move into the Manor for a few weeks, though. Also, you are lucky Tim is on break right now, his innate kindness might help in this. But if your demonic nephew touches a single hair in Tim’s head, I’m throwing him to the sharks.

-Are you talking about reporters, the League of Assassins, or actual sharks?

-Yes.

----.----

Tim snaps a quick pic when the kid isn’t looking, because this is precious. 

Damian had been a proud little prick at first, refusing to show the interest shining in his eyes towards the multiple animals Tim introduced him to. But by the time they left behind the horse (the one Lex gave him on his tenth birthday), birds and fishes on the property’s pond, and moved into Tim’s pets, he had left his facade behind and did his best to pet every animal at the same time. He couldn’t, of course, didn’t have enough hands for all two cats, the dog and the bunny, but by god he tried. 

Sel, the female cat, had taken residence on the kid’s shoulders, lounging there like an Empress, judging them all from above (or as above as she could be, perched on such a small kid that was sitting down to boot). Her partner in crime and life, Alley, rubbed his head under Tim’s chin, comfortable in his human’s arms. 

Then, Max, his Golden Retriever dog. He was a sweetheart, and had charmed Damian in less than a minute, greeting him with enthusiastic licks at his hands and a furiously quick tail moving side to side. Damian had been blindsided by the utter cuteness of the dog immediately falling in love with him, and had responded in kind, dedicating almost half an hour to dote on him alone.

Now, almost two hours after meeting the kid, Tim couldn’t help but snap another picture of Damian, sitting on the ground in front of Tim, one hand petting Max who had laid by his side, the other one carefully stroking Butter the Bunny’s head while he rests on his lap. Sel occasionally nudges her head against his cheek to demand for attention, that he gladly provides, and everything seems out of a Disney movie.

He knows this kid is dangerous. Because he is Nicole’s relative, because his eyes are always scanning their surroundings for threats, because his hand is the hand of a warrior. 

But he looks up at Tim when Sel gives a tiny lick to his check, looking as if he’d been blessed by the Kitten Gods and needs guidance on the appropriate response, and Tim thinks he could overlook the danger. God knows everyone is afraid of Mom, and that doesn’t stop Tim from kissing her cheek and hugging her at least once per day. 

This kid deserves love, too, and he always wanted a sibling.

#janet drake #Janet drake au #Janet Drake is a scary lady #Nicole Al Ghul (oc) #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #My writing #No edit people #I'm bored and procastinating