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cantsayidont · 10 days

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1986. This UK-market hardcover reprint annual (whose cover is allegedly by Bryan Talbot, although it doesn't look it) contains Grant Morrison's first Batman story, a moderately florid prose story with illustrations by the late Garry Leach, featuring a Catwoman obviously based more on the '60s TV show than the contemporary comics:

Even 20 years later, Morrison's prose was frequently cringe-worthy, and this is not an auspicious introduction. If you're aching to read this literary gem, I'll put the full text behind the cut.

First page:

There are secret places under the city; closed-off storm drains, obsolete subway tunnels, the cellars of demolished buildings, Down in the dark where nobody goes, there is a network, a maze of buried galleries, Down in the dark a shadow is moving.

Listen! You can almost hear its soft and steady breathing. It has found something. Something very special. The most secret place of all. The woman with green eyes looked around. Her walk through the darkness had taken the best part of three hours. She had clambered gracefully over falls of debris and waded through flooded lightless tunnels. She had walked sure-footedly in places where the sun had never shone, until at last, shimmying her slim body through a crack in the rock, she had come upon the cavern. The eye slits in her mask held scotoptic lenses that allowed her to see in the dark and when she saw what was in the cavern, a smile spread slowly across her fine-boned features. Like the Cheshire Cat she vanished down into the shadows, grinning with strong, white teeth.

Bruce Wayne thumbed the remote control. He’d had enough of the Johnny Carson Show. Not even Superman’s guest appearance could hold his attention. He wondered why his friend agreed to these chat shows and how he managed to maintain his good humour even after the old joke about wearing his underpants on the outside had been trotted out for the thousandth time. The TV went dead and Wayne stared into space. When space became boring he decided to call his butler.

At precisely that moment Alfred Pennyworth, tall, thin and immaculately dressed, opened the door.

“Master Bruce …” he began.

Wayne turned around, startled. “Alfred!” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve added telepathy to your list of accomplishments? I was just going to give you a call. Fancy a game of chess?”

Alfred looked uneasy. “I’m afraid I shall have to decline, Master Bruce, I just popped in to let you know that the intruder alarm has been activated.”

Wayne leapt up, with an athlete’s economy of movement.

“Where?” he said, making for the door.

“In the Batcave, sir. The Trophy Room …”

Wayne was already half-way down the hall.

“Will you be requiring any assistance, sir?” Alfred called after him.

“I’ll let you know.”

Wayne disappeared round a corner. Alfred sighed, tidied the cushions on the sofa and unplugged the TV set.

So that there would be no noise, he went down by the stairs behind the grandfather clock instead of using the elevator. The lights threw his shadow ahead of him, casting a monstrous black bat shape on the

Second page:

whitewashed walls. He ran lightly through the computer vault of the Batcave and when he reached the Trophy Room he flipped a switch, activating banks of floodlights. In the sudden harsh brightness, nothing moved.

“Whoever you are you're in deep trouble,” said The Batman and his voice was deadly and as cold as December rain, “Come out!”

Nothing moved.

The Batman surveyed the Trophy Room with eyes as hard as diamond shards. This was the most impressive part of the Batcave; an enormous limestone cavern, as big as a cathedral. Down here were stored all the souvenirs of The Batman’s bizarre cases. There was a life-size mechanical Tyrannosaur from Dinosaur Island. There was a chess game with pawns as tall as men and a penny as big as a Ferris wheel. An enormous, eerily lit Joker mask leered down upon a giant dice shaker and a glass cabinet with a bat costume inside. There was an Egyptian sarcophagus and several dangerous umbrellas. There was a very tall penguin and a perfectly normal sized dollar bill. There were over a thousand trophies, free-standing or in cases, utterly strange or quite conventional. There were all these things and one thing more …

“Come out!” The Batman said again. He tilted his head and sniffed. On the edge of the slightly damp, subterranean smell of the cavern he could detect another scent He sniffed again and suddenly knew who was in there with him. He knew and was on his guard.

The woman with green eyes watched him move among the trophies and prepared to strike. She ran the thongs of a whip through her gloved fingers and waited for him to come closer, smiling all the while.

The Batman stopped in front of a shattered case and if he knew before, then this was the final confirmation of the intruder’s identity. He turned, with her name on his lips, and something came whistling through the air towards him.

“Catwoman …” He ducked and the whip smashed what remained of the glass in the cabinet.

“Fancy meeting you here,” said the Catwoman. She cast a critical eye around the cavern. “Wouldn’t stamp collecting take up a little less room?”

“How did you get in here?” The Batman asked, standing up, eyeing her warily. He knew better than to underestimate her. She cracked the whip once more, like a lion tamer.

“Oh, I thought I’d set up operations again in Gotham," she told him. “I came down searching for a new location for my Catacomb lair and instead I stumbled across this place. Lucky for me. A catastrophe for you.”

“Remind me to block up the hole after I’ve taken you back to prison,” said The Batman.

She only smiled wickedly. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Once I discover exactly where under the city we are, I’ll know where to find your front door next time. And so will everybody else. Your secret will be out.”

“But you won’t find out!” The Batman said, allowing himself one icy smile to match hers. “You might have done if you hadn't given yourself away. I smelled your perfume as soon as I came down here.”

He started to advance. “And then when I saw that your cat-o-nine-taiIs was missing from its case, I was sure.”

She backed off. “I was merely reclaiming what was mine. Like a closer look?"

Suddenly the whip snaked out, lashing across Batman’s face. He pitched back, briefly blinded by razor-edged pain.

“What’s a bat but a flying mouse, after all?" he heard her say. “Let’s play cat and mouse.” Her voice grew fainter as she darted away. The Batman shook his head to clear his vision. Blinking through bruised eyelids he heard, nearby, the sound of a ratchet being pulled back.

“I see everything’s in perfect working order,” Catwoman hissed. “Purr-feet working order ...”

There was a sharp detonation. The Batman hit the floor. Something heavy whined past his ear and clipped a strip out of his cape. He did not have to see to know she had used the harpoon cannon. There was a splintering thud as the harpoon smashed through the side wall of a doll’s house. The Batman rolled into cover and looked out through stinging, tear-filled eyes. He was on the chessboard but Catwoman was nowhere to be seen.

She came from behind. The Batman whirled too late to stop the toppling chess piece from pinning his legs. “Checkmate!” shrieked the Catwoman.

Hefting the huge rook off his legs, Batman groggily pulled himself to his feet. One ankle throbbed like a bad tooth. He scanned the Trophy Room for signs of his enemy. When he spotted her, his mouth corrugated into a grimace. She was running up the steep spine of the Tyrannosaur, as surely as a tabby on a fence. When she reached the shoulders, she pulled

Third page:

back the hatch that led into the head of the dinosaur and stepped inside.

The Batman ran, ignoring the pains that thumped through his leg. He ran, while the Trophy Room echoed to the noise of machinery starting to move. With a grinding shudder, the monster’s tail twitched. It twitched once more and then it swung in a flailing arc and demolished a helicopter.

“What a wonderful place you have here!” Catwoman’s voice came through the loudspeaker in the Tyrannosaur’s mouth. “Much more fun than Disneyland!”

The monster lurched and began to move. Its tail thrashed through a row of display cases which burst like bombs, showering The Batman with glass.

“This whole night’s been one long catalogue of disasters for you, Batman dear” mocked the monster, with Catwoman’s voice. His mind racing, Batman ran under the dinosaur, out of her sight. In that comparative safety he reviewed his situation. He had been taken by surprise. He was injured and things looked bad. His only hope lay in turning Catwoman’s own nature against her. Unclipping the radio from his belt, he signalled Alfred.

“Where are you?” purred his enemy. “Come out, come out, the game’s not over.”

The tail shuddered once more, then the dinosaur stopped. The hatch opened and Catwoman jumped down, landing on her feet. “Batman …” Her voice was a lethal whisper and she moved like a hunting cat, flexing the claws on her gloves. “Where are you?”

But he had gone, melted into thin air like a man of grey vapour. She drew her lips back over her teeth and padded off in search of him. She searched the lab and the garage; she searched the storeroom and she searched the computer vault.

And that was where she found the stairs. At the top of those stairs she would find the key to The Batman’s secret identity. She could wipe out his entire operation at a stroke. Or it could be a trap. Perhaps she should escape now and return at her leisure.

She looked back at the caves and she looked up the stairs and finally, overcome by the need to know, she ran up the steps, purring. With the contented expression of a cat that has gorged itself on cream, she opened the door in the grandfather clock.

And Alfred, waiting there, spritzed her face with gas. The satisfaction changed to surprise and then to rage until at last her face went blank and Catwoman keeled over like a doll. Batman caught her.

“Everything all right, sir?” asked Alfred.

“Fine, Alfred,” replied The Batman. “Just fine.”

When she woke up she was in the Batmobile, in downtown Gotham and headed for Police Headquarters.

“Tough luck, Selina,” The Batman consoled her. “Maybe next time.” Catwoman simply snarled.

“I knew you’d try the stairs” he went on. “You just couldn’t resist it. I suppose it proves what they say . . ”

She glared at him with eyes as green as gemstones. “I know. I know,” she spat “It’s not funny.”

The Batman smiled, pulling into the Police parking lot. “Oh, I think it is,” he said. “Just like in the old story: Curiosity Killed the Cat.”

#comics #batman #official batman annual #grant morrison #garry leach #bryan talbot #catwoman #selina kyle #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batcat #the contemporary comics were iffy on the question of whether selina knew bruce was batman #with even then-editor len wein admitting he wasn't sure #the smart money was on “yes”#but denny o'neil was so aghast at that idea that when he took over they were barely even permitted to interact #even so when she finally officially learned the truth in hush #the reaction was “wait -- hasn't she known for years?”#but in any case this story presumes she definitely does not know

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bibatfamdisaster · 2 years

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Bruce: Did you buy the eggs like i asked?

Damian: I found a much better alternative

Bruce: Damian, what did you-

Damian: *holding up a chicken* Father, meet Carl

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silly-thinkings · 2 years

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The Cursed Stone~ pt.2 Batmom Fem!reader

Might as well post the second chapter here :p I mostly write narratives like these on my wattpad - feel free to check it out Pt.3

Tim groaned, he slowly opened his eyes to find himself sitting on his chair with his limbs out to the sides. He looked at the time

"Nine a.m?"

He looked around to see Damian on top of Jason while Dick was on the other side of the room. Tim quickly got up and went to his older brother.

"Dick, hey wake up." He said shaking him gently

Dick slowly opened his eyes and sat up. "Tim? How long have I been out?"

"Seems like we've been out the rest of the night. the last thing I remember was that stone blasting us."

Dick looked around the room in a panic. He quickly stood up.

"What? What is it?"

"Where's mom?"

Now Tim was the one worried. They both remember her cry out something before the blackout.

The sound of Jason and Damien bickering under the table broke Tim out of his thoughts.

"Get your twinkle toes off of me!"

"How dare you speak to me that way you baboon"

"Guys!" Dick yelled

The two stopped immediately. Looking at their brother. Jason was the first one to notice Y/N's lack of presence. He tried to get up but he hit his head, causing Damian to snicker.

"Where's Ma?" Jason asked finally.

Damian crossed his arms "she's probably upstairs."

Annoyed, Jason grabbed Damien by the collar of his shirt "What you said to her was way out of line."

Damian kicked him, breaking free from his grasp"like you guys never said anything like that to her. "

Jason went silent before turning around and walking away from him.

Tim picked up the stone "guys... it broke."

"And it's not glowing anymore..." Dick stated

"You guys are overreacting. I'll show you exactly where Ummi is." Damian said with full confidence.

They all followed the boy out of the bat cave "Pennyworth! I require your assistance." Damian shouted.

Alfred walked out of the kitchen and towards them "yes Master Damian. How can I help you."

"Where is our mother?" He asked confidently.

Alfred raised an eyebrow "I'm sorry?"

"Where's Ummi? She must have walked out of the cave." Damian asked again, uncrossing his arms. Now a bit worried himself.

"I apologize Master Damian. It is just us in the manor. Do you wish for me to call Talia over?" Alfred said, tilting his head to the side slightly in confusion.

All of the boys' faces went pale.

"Tim, with me" Dick said as both of them returned to the bat cave whilst Jason and Damian stayed with Alfred.

Jason pulled out his phone and quickly called his father. At the second ring Bruce answered

"Jason? What's up? You never call."

"Do you know someone by the name of Y/N? Y/N L/N"

"No, I can't say that I do. Why?"

Jason hung up the phone "Alfred, can you give me and my baby brother some time alone please" he said through a strained smile.

Alfred bowed and walked to another part of the manor. Jason was ready to yell at Damian but the look on the kids face surprised him.

Damian's eyes were wide with shock. His mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Jason had never seen him so vulnerable.

"W-why don't they remember Ummi? Is... is she? Did I...?"

Jason didn't say anything, he couldn't. Whatever happened caused everyone else to forget about their mother. Jason felt his phone buzz.

He looked down at his phone and read the text. It was from Tim

"Come to the cave. Found mom."

Jason showed the text to Damian and both of them sprinted to their brothers.

~~~~

The four looked at the video on the screen. It was most definitely their mother Y/N. She wore a classic Barista outfit. White long sleeves with a black apron on and a flower crown on her hair.

"Why is ma there?" Jason asked, not looking away from the screen.

"Remember what Damian said when he held the stone? He wished that mom was never a Wayne." Tim started.

"Before she and Bruce married, mom worked part-time at a cafe in this part of town. Then she would sing at a jazz club over here." Dick continued, pointing at the map on the second screen.

"How do you know all this?" Damian asked

Dick smiled "she told me stories about it. We also sang a lot when I was a kid"

"Oh yea. There would also be times where we caught her singing while cleaning the house" Tim said looking back at his brother.

Jason looked at the stone "so did we get sent in the past?"

"No, if anything we just changed the timeline a bit." Tim typed in the computer and pulled up files "everything that's happened to us still happened. Just... no mom with us."

"Well then let's go say hi! She'll Definitely remember this amazing face." Jason said confidently.

Damian shook his head "or you'll scare her off from this family for good."

Jason pouted As Tim began typing again. "I think we are the only ones that remember her because we were in the blast. The eye of the storm if you will."

"So what do we do?" Damian asked quietly. Everyone turned to see his face scrunched up.

The silence Damian received gave him no peace of mind "how do we get her back!" Anger, sadness, annoyance. All these emotions swelling inside him. It's his fault that she's gone. It's his fault that he lost his real mother. A mother that actually cared for him.

Dick knelt in-front of Damian and brought him into a hug. Damian squirmed a bit, uncomfortable with the sudden touching. But soon after he returned the hug.

"Don't worry Damian, we'll fix this. We can do this together."

#batmom reader #batmom #batmom x batfam #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #damian al ghul #dc comcis #dc #fanfic #angst #bruce wayne

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yannowhatigiveup · 2 years

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Day 1: Grumpy Cat

I really wanted to do every prompt that was available, but the world hates me so if I miss a prompt it’s usually because I ran out of time, or I didn’t do enough research. They’re all going to be short too, so, yeah. Anyway, I just wanted to participate for fun!

Language Warning

Damian ran a hand through his hair, regretting almost every decision that lead him to this moment.

“Are you sure you have no idea where he is?” Damian asked the other kwamis. Sass flew up next to him.

“Afraid not, Damian.” The snake kwami answered. The boy sighed and turned around to go look for the missing kwami.

“We can help you.” Wayzz offered as he flew in front of the boy. Damian froze in place, not letting his emotions appear on his face.

“Thank you for offering but your help is not required, I shall retrieve him myself.” Damian spoke to the turtle kwami. “And if any of you were to be discovered by my family, I’m afraid of what fate might await me when your guardian returns.” The other kwamis nodded and flew back into one of his secret drawers. Damian sighed as he left his room, walking down the stairs to the living room which was, thankfully, empty.

Marinette had Guardian training in the temple, one that required her absolute concentration. Damian had offered to look after the rest of the kwamis while she was at the temple, most of his family were out so keeping them a secret would’ve been easy, except some of them had returned earlier without the boy’s knowledge, making the simple task quite the challenge.

“I swear to you Bruce, there’s something going on.” Damian froze at the sound of Drake’s voice. Acting on impulse, Damian pressed himself against the wall in the dark, attempting to ease drop on the conversation.

“I have to agree with Replacement on this one.” Todd’s voice. “I put my book down for a second and when I went to pick it up again, it just disappeared! I checked the security cameras and shit, and the book floated away.” Damian tensed, that was guaranteed to be Plagg’s doing.

“Floated?” his father’s voice was that of disbelief.

“Yes B, it floated. Fucking floated.” Todd seemed shocked himself, from what Damian could hear. There was a small pause. “See? Even Cass agrees!” That small silence must have been Cass nodding.

“I’m sure there’s a logical reason-“

“A logical reason? Really Bruce?” Drake’s voice interrupted his father. Damian ran his hand through his hair, again, and walked towards the kitchen. He had to find that kwami. The boy entered the kitchen and, much to his surprise, Alfred was there, seemingly waiting for him.

“Ah, Master Damian, I was looking for you.” The old man walked to the boy, a smile present on his face.

“Did you need my, Pennyworth?” Damian asked, being polite in an attempt to hide his desperation.

“I just believed that this-“ Alfred handed him something. “-would be of assistance.” And with that the man left, leaving the teen confused until he looked down at what was on the plate.

“Camembert…” Damian muttered in surprise. “How did he-“ A dark blur phased through the wall.

“Camembert! My love! Oh how I’ve searched for you!” The kwami spoke to the piece of stinky cheese. Damian furrowed his brows and pulled the plate away. “Hey!”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Damian hissed. “My family have noticed that something’s off, what if they saw you?”

Plagg didn’t look too bothered. “I can’t be seen or recorded through human technology, I don’t see the problem. And even if they do see me, without evidence, who’s going to believe them?”

“If it were someone like Drake, they’ll believe him.” He pointed out.

“Well what else am I supposed to do? You can’t expect me to stay locked up in your room when there’s a whole manor at my disposal.” Plagg crossed his little arms, glaring at the teen in front of him.

“Next time you pull something like this, I’ll skin you alive.” Damian half-heartedly warned the kwami, a smile threatening to appear.

Plagg playfully put on a grumpy expression. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m your favourite, don’t even try to lie.” Damian rolled his eyes and gave Plagg the camembert.

“I’ll stop giving you camembert from now on.” He put the plate in the sink and walked at out of the kitchen. Plagg gasped dramatically.

Plagg shouted as he followed Damian back to his bedroom. “You don’t mean that right? Damian? Kid why are you walking away- Wait! I promise I’ll be good from now on! Please! Damian! I’m sorry, don’t take my precious camembert!”

@maribat-calendar-events

#DaminetteDec21 #maribat #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #maridami #damianette #mlb x dc #ml x dc #dc x ml #dc x mlb #daminette

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stressedoutcanary · 3 years

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Family Matters - Batfamily x Reader

Summary: A surprise birthday party and Batfamily being chaotic.

“That's it Dick just a little to the right...No the other right...No! Not there you goofus! Just...Just get down from the chandelier before it comes crashing down on the rest of us and For God's Sake let Duke handle the ribbons before you somehow strangle yourself with them”

Warnings ⚠️: Fluff, lots of it, angst because I can’t help myself, Reader has got some parental issues. Hurt/Comfort.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: I wanted some good dad Bruce content so I did it myself. Also I might have been influenced by a post I made a while back about Bruce and his children. I haven't used reader's pronouns anywhere so it's kinda gender neutral.

I don��t know where I was going with this, my imagines are often like a train derailed from its track but I think it’s fine. So Enjoy ;)

•°•°•°•°

"Focus (Y/S/N), don't jump in in blind, assessing what action your opponent is about to undertake and countering it out before they can complete that action, this is the key lesson for you today", Batman's commanding voice echoed in the enclosed area of the batcave as he observed you attempting to roundhouse kick the boy in front of you. It was rather rashly executed with the hope of knocking him down which, for obvious reasons, only ended up with your leg connecting with nothing but thin air.

'Damn he is fast when he actually tries.'

"Easy for you to say Old Man! You aren't the one dancing with Mister Duckboy, the teen wonder over here!", you exclaimed, panting as your chest heaved from the exertion.

"Duckboy?!", Tim looked near scandalized as you grinned in return, stealing a glance towards the giggling crowd gathered near the stairs.

Everyone was already in the cave, it was a rare occurrence, it happened only when the issues of upmost importance were being discussed. Today was one of those days; The planning of Alfred Pennyworth's surprise birthday party.

However things usually went a lot less violent, this day every year. The sparring session this year was the result of you messing up, real bad while on patrol last night and since you were around the same age as Tim, he was found to be the most appropriate partner for it. The only drawback was that he had a staff in his hands while your weapons were confiscated, because in Bruce's words 'you rely on them too much'. You were already tired and Tim had a huge advantage over you, if you wanted to win this match you had to be quick and efficient at the same time.

Distracting Tim by your comment allowed you to have an opening, gathering all your strength you went in for a forward strike. Unfortunately he was more than ready to take you on, he crouched down, narrowly missing your punch then proceeded to swipe your legs off of the ground with his bo staff making you fall butt first on the floor.

"Congratulations you've managed to hurt both my ass and my ego, Timbers", You said laying back on the ground, hands and legs spread out and instead of helping you up, Tim joined you on the floor sitting next to you. You gave him a look that was equivalent to 'next time I get the chance, I am going to push you off a roof'.

"Your skills need improvement", Bruce said in his monotonous tone as you grunted knowing that a full ass lecture was gonna follow, but before he could get another word out, Jason chimed in with a statement no one ever expected to hear from him,"You know (Y/N), he's not wrong in fact I think the old man's actually got a point."

Jaws dropped to floor, Tim looked like he just saw a ghost, Dick who was standing near Barbara pinched himself to see whether he was dreaming or not, Damian snapped his neck up from where he was sharpening his katana, even Titus and Ace perked their heads up at the sudden silence that settled over the place. Barbara, Cass, Duke and Steph looked equally shocked.

"Before you all get any ideas, what I'm trying to say is you better pay attention because B over here won't be able to save your ass, 'cause if you slack off the next thing you know you would be in a warehouse with a maniac, getting blown to bits", Jason looked at Bruce with accusing eyes.

'And here I thought he was finally going to say something sensible', you thought to yourself as he continued,

"Take it from someone who has had that experience, you guys remember right? The fact that I--"

"Died, we know!!", everyone groaned at the same time and Bruce looked like he had to physically restrain himself from faceplaming.

"Okay! Guys how about we go ahead and do the thing we all actually came here to do instead of... whatever this conversation was", you suggested, getting up and patting the dust off your clothes.

"Well then someone has got to ask the important question here", Barbara looked around as she worded her sentence,"who is going to be the one to keep Alfred busy while we get everything ready?"

Once again the cave went silent. For a whole bunch of detectives, you all were very, very scared of Alfred, including Bruce even though he will never admit it, lying to The old-butler-cum-grandpa and making random excuses for the whole 3 hours was a thought dreadful enough to make all of you exchange petrified glances at each other hoping someone would step forward to do the job.

"I'll do it", dick raised his hand.

"NO!", everyone snapped and Dick's head tilted with a pout.

"You are good at doing a lot of stuff boy wonder, hiding things from Alfred isn't one of them", Barbara comforted Dick as Damian stepped up next.

"*tt* Since none of you imbeciles have the courage or the ability to do it. I shall be the one to handle Pennyworth. Gordon, Cain and Titus, I will require your assistance", Damian spoke or rather commanded as he went up the stairs, followed by the group he chose.

"Don't mess this up for us, you gremlin!"

"Tim!", you lightly jabbed him in the side with your elbow.

"Ow! What?"

"Be nice", you narrowed your eyes and he understood you were being serious.

"Fine I'll try, but don't blame me if he starts something", Tim shrugged carelessly. You shook your head and let out an audible sigh as you followed everyone else up towards the manor.

•°•°

"That's it Dick just a little to the right...No the other right...No! Not there you goofus! Just...Just get down from the chandelier before it comes crashing down on the rest of us and For God's Sake let Duke handle the ribbons before you somehow strangle yourself with them", you eyed him worriedly.

"Oh come (Y/N) it'll be fine!", the cheerfulness in his voice made you cock an eyebrow at him from below. Duke slid in beside you.

"10 bucks says he will somehow fall within the next hour"

"Oh Duke you should know better, 20 says he'll fall within 30 minutes", you turned towards him with an evil smile.

"What are you both talking about down there?"

"NOTHING!", you both said in unison on which Dick gave you a confused look.

"Oh Hey look Steph needs my help with the cake so, see ya!", you quickly moved to the other side of the room checking in with Stephanie and Tim. She gave you a thumbs up to signal that everything was going according to plan and the place was almost ready. Everyone was laughing, bickering, having fun, it was all very rare and seeing it, a warm feeling spread throughout you.

You smiled to yourself for a moment but it faltered and a frown pulled up at your lips, a sorrowful thought crossed your mind, something you always kept buried deep down. Looking around and seeing as nobody needed your help at the moment you decided to slip out of the chaos, taking slow steps towards the patio to clear your head.

•°•°

Leaning against the railing you thought back to how you left your house this morning telling your mother that you are going to stay at your friend's place for a while and how she just waved her hand at that, not even questioning you anymore. Your mind was completely elsewhere, despite the awe-inspiring dense forest right in front of you, your eyes were lost in space.

You registered, a bit too late, the presence of someone standing beside you.

"It is a nice view, but something tells me that's not what brought to out here, away from everyone else"

"Careful there Brucie or people might think that you are actually capable of some emotions which happen include caring for people", you retorted back at him. It was always a sort of defense mechanism for you, whenever you felt exposed you countered it with snarky remark.

You closed your eyes hoping that Bruce would just walk away. But he didn't. He stayed there.

Bruce leaned on the railing beside you and waited. You took a deep breath, contemplating you next move carefully.

"...Look It's really silly so can we drop it?", you whispered wondering why in the world would Bruce of all people, care about your feelings.

"Talk to me (Y/N). I can tell when something is bothering you, I may not be your father, but you are my family.", unlike usual, his voice was gentle and genuine when he spoke to you.

"I am really not a fan of surprise birthdays", you stated, starting off vaguely.

"And why is that?"

"Because I...It's silly but this one time I spent a whole week working on a birthday gift for my mom, it was like a craft pop up box which had multiple photos of us together, I made that from scratch! everything in it I made that, I worked hard for it, I did it out of love but when I gave her that surprise gift you know what she said Bruce! She said that I wasted my time that she would've been much happier if I had focused on my studies, she never even once said that she liked it and I--", you looked at him with tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill.

"I don't know Bruce, it-it just makes me feel sad you know? every little thing reminds me that my mother doesn’t seem to love me anymore. There is this constant thought in my mind that no one cares about me, about what I do for them and I don’t know what to do with a thought like that."

"That's not true, look around you kiddo, you are surrounded by people who would do anything for you, who love you from the bottom of their hearts", Bruce finally looked at you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"That's the thing! I am not an orphan!", you blurted out and Bruce looked more confused than ever.

"I'm aware"

"No! No you are not. I am not one of those kids you picked up from somewhere, I don't live here, Like I am sure you people aren't even sane, hell! you all make up the most dysfunctional family I have ever seen! I don’t belong here, you people have no reason to care about", Bruce gave you a sideways look, slightly chuckling at your sudden description of the people in the manor.

"But I still love everyone, my mom, you, every dumbass inside the manor right now, no matter much pain they cause me and I don't get why", this time when he looked at you, you didn't look like the vigilante who sucker punched The Riddler in the face last night, you looked like a scared little kid who is lost.

Bruce stood up straight and wrapped you in a hug. Something you never expected to happen in a million years. The shocked settled in after a bit and you wrapped your hands around him, burying your face in his chest.

"The people we love are still people at the end of the day. They act out, and sometimes they let us down, hurt us even, but that doesn't mean we stop loving them. For every bad memory, there will always be a good one that will get you through it. I promise you that (Y/N)", Bruce pulled away and gave you a warm smile. You couldn't help but smile back, your face matching his.

"Okay who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne? because I don't recognize this man who is full of emotions and on top of that, is giving free hugs right now", you broke into a grin, making Bruce's face go back to the stoic version.

"If you tell anyone, I will deny it"

"Sure you will"

Suddenly a clattering sound came from the hall, alerting you both. This, however, was followed by a 'I'm okay!' By the one Dick Grayson, which in turn was followed by Duke's 'Oh no!'

"Any idea what that was about?", Bruce inquired raising an eyebrow as you burst out laughing.

"That, you big softie, was the sound of me getting my 20 dollars, now let's get back before they destroy everything."

•°•°

You and Bruce entered back into the hall, everyone was gathered around waiting for Damian and his group to signal the beloved butler's arrival. You stood next to Tim as Jason moved towards the switches to turn off the lights.

"Okay I'll bite why are you covered in frosting before the party even started?"

"Steph", Tim replied, too tired to elaborate, leaving you giggling.

Barbara, Cass and Damian rushed through the door, looking close to terrified, with Titus tagging along.

"He is here, HIDE!", Damian said quickly closing the doors.

After a few moments, the door creaked open and Alfred's voice came through, "Master Damian, you and I will have words for what you did to-- Oh my", he was stuck to his position at the door, too shocked to say anything more after looking at the decorations and bunch gathered around an enormous cake.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALFRED!!", you all exclaimed with extreme excitement.

As the party went on you noticed that there was, in fact, a broken chandelier broomed to the side, later on there were a few not-at-all-safe stunts performed by the boys, some really bad puns made by Dick, all sorts of shenanigans by the others and cake, lots of cake. You looked around, everyone was busy doing something but now you knew Bruce was right:

You have one hell of a family, original, found or otherwise. And you love them all no matter what.

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @thesesickfics-justmakemesick

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Monster Monster

I wholeheartedly blame this pic for the existence of this fic. I just wanna hug him and ruffle his hair.

Summary: Parent Teacher Conferences are very scandalous.

a/n: This is actually one of my few fics where reading some of my previous fics will help. I highly recommend reading Of Midnight Smoothies and Murder Mysteries to get a better feel on Dick and Reader’s relationship but anything on the Dick Grayson masterlist works too. Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @americasmarauders for proofreading. Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @batarella for help with the ending.

warnings: A slur is mentioned but it gets shut down. Also, swearing.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“Tt, stop staring at me.”

You bite back a smile and what was probably a laugh rising in your throat. “Hmmm, no.” You hum, carding your fingers through Damian’s curls. The corners of your mouth twitch into a frown when you feel an angry bump against your fingers. It’s dry and there seems to be no break in the skin as far as you could tell. You let a little sigh of relief escape you which has the unintended consequence of upsetting the gremlin in front of you.

Damian attempts to swat your hand away, snarling as he did. You grin at him, all sharp teeth and pettiness. You, being childish, do not take your hand away and instead ruffle his hair more. An adorably petulant pout settles on Damian’s mouth making the kid look ten-years-old for once. It takes everything in you not to squeal in delight.

“Unhand me. I do not require your mothering and you would do very well to leave the scolding to Richard or Pennyworth.” You can easily picture Alfred scolding Damian but Dick? You try to picture Dick, hand on his hip, trying his damndest to be mean to the kid but you just couldn’t. Sure, Nightwing can be terrifying, even Batman but Dick? Especially with a kid? Not even feasible. You snort openly, the noise echoing in the deadly silent room. The woman on the other side of the room sitting next to a boy with a faceful of bruises and probably a couple of chipped teeth glares at you. Specifically, the woman scowls at your arm, skin festooned with bangles of coiled serpent tails and glittering blades. You fight the urge to stick your tongue out at her. Instead, you tug a bit at your sleeves, baring the golden lines streaked with old gashes. A low humorless laugh escapes you causing her scowl to deepen.

Damian follows your line of sight. His face folds in utter contempt. The boy next to her flinches. Their size difference made this all the funnier. “[What did he do?]” you ask in what you hope are the correct words in Arabic. Damian crosses his arms not meeting your gaze. His leg kicks out, the restlessness thrumming in his bones. “[Your accent is atrocious.]”

Your mouth twitches uncontrollably, edging into a fond smile. You tamp it down with a click of your tongue lest the little demon tear your head off. “[I’m out of practice, child,]” Damian grabs at a space beside him only for his hand to close on nothing. Something inside you dies when you stop yourself from cackling. Thank goodness, Bruce has--had--the good sense to take the kid’s katana away.

“[Anyway, what did he do?]”

“[How are you so sure he did something?]”

“[Because you’re a brat but not stupid. You are by far the most annoyingly reasonable child I have had the displeasure of conversing with.]” Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. It seems the assumed hatred was mutual. You watch as he folds his face back into a glower, not quite fast enough to evade your attention but certainly fast enough to fool the untrained eye. Unfortunately for him, you’re used to the acrobatics of faces, the chaotic cacophony of microexpression. Most people in your life are, after all, awful at broadcasting their feelings even when it was sorely needed. This is probably why you gravitated to Dick so easily. The man believed in openness, in communication.

Distantly, you can hear the woman across from you tap her foot impatiently against the carpet. A flick of your eye tells you she was sneering at both of you likely eavesdropping (and failing) on your conversation. Why she needs to know what you and a ten-year-old with a stick up his ass were talking about you weren’t sure. Damian turns his head slightly towards you, angling his chin upward to mask the uncertainty in his posture. “[If you must know, he-]”

“Gypsies”

The syllables ring like a loud staccato of gunshots despite how quietly she’d hissed it. You freeze. You can feel Damian stiffen right beside you. Understanding flowed into you molten and bubbling. You feel your throat itch, unkind words coalescing into a lump in your throat. You turn your body to Damian who was now still but you can feel the anger wicking off him. You sling your arm over the head of the chair behind him drawing his attention back to you.

He arches a brow at you, challenging. The expression falters when the next few words leave your mouth.

“[You’re off the hook.]”

Principal Jameson is a nasally man. It isn’t his anything to do with his voice. Though, you would be remiss to say that his voice was pleasant. You’re actually half tempted to turn your bad ear on him, block out the words coming from him but that would negate the point of you coming here. His voice isn’t that unpleasant but his entire demeanor rubbed you the wrong way. You’ve seen jellyfish with more backbone than this man. Then again, this might just be a by-product of your presence. Dick, and several other batbrats, have helpfully informed you that you were in fact pants pissing scary to civilians. You would like to say you couldn’t see it but standing in front of this man it was clear as day.

“Y/n L/n,” you offer congenially. His shoulders ease a fraction but did not offer you a hand. You smother a sigh before offering an additional “I believe Mr.Grayson-Wayne had informed you that I would be coming in his stead to discuss this-” Shit show, your mind supplies but thankfully, your mouth was quick enough to bite it back. “- incident.” Beside you Damian scoffed. You stop yourself from kicking the kid because that really would not do.

“Yes, well, Ma’am your-” Jameson halts frankly unsure of your relationship to Damian because of course, Dick would leave the leg work to your socially allergic ass. You make a mental note to kick him later. “- charge.” you supply, feeling a modicum of sympathy for the drowning man.Your eyes flick to Damian. His face is impassive, ire still directed at the thirteen-year-old sniveling behind his mother. The term is too cold for your taste but as of right now that’s all you were. Maybe you’ve finally found a Robin you wouldn't get attached to.

“Well, ma’am, you see your charge, Damian, he’s punched another student and has yet to even apologize. He even started a full on brawl.”

“Mhmm, I see,” you drawl tilting your head. You feel Damian stiffen at the ease of your response. You don’t have to look at his face to know that he was glaring at you with something in his eyes withering from the betrayal. The woman across from nods agreeably as if you had said something sensible. Jameson for his part nearly sighs with relief. You click your teeth a little irritable from their responses but more fascinated than anything. ‘I see’ is barely an answer but they each filled in the gaps with their own assumptions. “And has that young man over there apologized for what he said to Damian? Or for the lump on Damian’s head? Surely, you sent Damian to the clinic as well.” you voice out looking as scandalized as possible.

The room froze.

Your eyes will probably roll into the back of your head before your meeting is done. Judging from Jameson’s posture, they didn’t. They should have at least checked if the kid had a concussion. A familiar sort of ire rose in you. Oh boy, you’re going to have a field day with these people. You sigh in exasperation before continuing. “Not only did you neglect to send him to the clinic to check on the lump on his head, but you were also planning to let the other boy off the hook?” you accuse, voice rising with some effort. Your voice has a tendency to draw low when your temper is flaring. It’s an intimidation tactic you'd learned from a while ago. It would probably be ill advised to use it on a man who looked like he was a second away from a heart attack.

Jameson leans forward, reaching out appeasingly.“Ma’am, we-”

“From what I recall, Gotham Academy has a strict zero tolerance policy on derogatory language, does it not?” You cut him off, voice suddenly vicious. You shift your body in front of Damian putting yourself between him and everyone else in the room. He bristles at the gesture but you and your habits aren’t exactly concerned with his pride.

“Ma’am I-“

“I rest my case. Please, feel free to contact Mr.Grayson-Wayne if you have more to say.” You settle a hand on Damian’s shoulder. You’re surprised he didn’t fight you or swat your hand away. Taking it as permission, you pull him closer to you as you leave the red faced woman and the paling man gob smacked and silent. Damian himself doesn’t make the sound as you made your way down the hall. You squeeze his shoulder gently hoping it comes across as a reassuring gesture. His posture does not loosen but you do not let him stray from you. You close your eyes as the elevator doors shut.

“I did not require your assistance.”

“I know.” Of course, he doesn’t. He is a Robin and an Al Ghul but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna get it. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, the dull beat only serving to irritate your nerves. You swear the traffic in Gotham was somehow infinitely worse than everywhere else in the world even with working traffic lights. Maybe that’s why there were so many crazy people here. Maybe Bruce should have invested his money on better roads. Maybe-

Your eyes slide towards Damian who is somehow shrinking and pressing into the side door. Still, his face is twisted skeptically and braced for a continuation to your statement. You looked heavenward not even hiding the weariness in your smile. The brat is truly a bat-- suspicion and all. You turn your body towards him, opening up your posture. You fold your leg and rest your chin on your arm. Damian meets your gaze head on, looking imperious as he crosses his arms over his chest. His posture is artificial, probably uncomfortable from the weight of your attention.

You roll your shoulders and reshape your features, reconfiguring yourself from understanding to teasing. “I know. I know but you see, they needed telling off and your tiny gremlin ass isn’t scary enough. And, I promise I won’t tell Dickolas that you defended him so vehemently.” you wink, a conspiratorial grin spreading across your face. Damian straightens, his body is bowed like he was about to spring for your throat but the shape his limbs took on was more natural and seemingly relaxed. The knot in your shoulder loosens. You reach over and ruffle his hair again. He really is still a kid. You stare each other down. Your smile is as unwavering as his glower.

Both of your stomachs grumble. The sound was loud and abrasive in the closed space of the car. You check your watch and hum, shifting back into your seat. Wordlessly, you switch on your signal light.

You leaf through the pages of the thoroughly used book in your hands, eyes skimming through the blocks of texts not really absorbing any of it. You never really found the appeal in fiction. The stories are too neat compared to what you experienced daily. You suppose there is simplicity in them but you find that in nonfiction, the kind of books that explained the mechanics of things. They made sense of the world and were much more useful in your opinion. You’re much more interested in the messy scribbles on the margins, the etchings of a loud mind on yellowing pages. Jason’s notes were written in the same tone of voice he used when he spoke, deceptively layman but upon further inspection was frighteningly insightful. You smile at the little comments and complaints, the snarky little remarks. Remnants of the little boy he had been before. You frowned. You should probably give this back to him once you have the chance and maybe come up with some excuse of why you still have it. Or you can just keep it.

You look up at Damian who is drumming his fingers impatiently against the lacquered table. His posture is artificially relaxed, likely something he learned from the league or maybe all nervous gremlins do it. You look down at the book again. The sight reminds you of Jay. You tip your head, the loud thunk of your skull is felt more than heard since it was your bad ear that is pressed against the glass. The sound startles Damian who was deep in thought. You hold out the book to him. He must be bored waiting for your order. He pointedly ignores you.

"I don't need that childish drivel." He snipes. You click your teeth feeling a little defensive of the book.

You sound exactly like your grandfather, you think but have enough sense to keep it to yourself. No child needs to be compared to Ra's Al Ghul even if he is a brat.

"Not a fan of-" You look at the book's spine and frown. "-Robert Stevenson?" What kind of dork reads Robert Stevenson for fun? Oh wait, it's the same dork that quotes Shakespeare while bashing heads.

"I have no need for such things."

Of course, he didn’t.

"No, I suppose you don't need anything with the actual text but the margins are quite fascinating." You hold out the book to him again. His eyebrows shoot up looking at you skeptically as he reaches for it. There is no actual written indication that it was Jay's and the kid likely hasn't spent enough time with Jay to actually tell from the way it's written. You look out the window to turn your good ear to him, listening for any reactions he might have. Every now and then you hear a huff of amusement. You smother the smile threatening to form on your lips with your hand.

"Well, the person who owned this certainly had a lot to say." Damian says carefully, handing the book back.

"Jay really was a mouthy kid."

Damian looks at you, little face scrunching up in confusion. You suddenly notice just how easily the booth swallows him up. Why is he so tiny? "If this is Todd's, why do you have it?"

You clasp the book in your hands, your thumb tracing over the creases. "He leant me this book shortly before he died. He-- Well, I told him that I wasn't fond of adventure stories. I prefer books about science and culture. They're much more useful, yanno?" Damian gives a slight nod. You relax into your seat with his understanding. "Well, he thought it was just that I've never read a good one so he gave me this one. Never quite finished it though." you admit a little sheepish after realizing just how sentimental you felt. Your eyes trace over Damian's expression. It's clear that the sentimentality bled through your words and some childish part of you winces at the vulnerability of it. Damian says nothing and doesn't even sneer in derision.

You hum, the tune musical but offkey. “Jason, actually did what you did today awhile ago.” Just like that you begin down a rabbit hole telling the little gremlin about all the stupid shit the older bats have gotten into. And oh boy, there’s a lot.

“So do either of you want to explain what happened and why GAs headmaster called me sounding like he was gonna piss himself?”

“Hmmm, probably not ” you say around your spoonful of mahalabia, not even looking up from your book. Hilariously enough, Damian had also elected to leave Dick’s presence unacknowledged and busy with his own mahalabia. Dick scoot into your side of the booth, purposefully squishing you against the wall with a shiteating grin. He loops his arm around you and pulls you closer, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You blanch and push half heartedly at his chest as he laughs. That laugh makes your heart warm and a relenting smile spreads across your features softening them. Your body twitches forward to kiss but you still when Dick freezes instead you plant a kiss on his cheek as well. Dick relaxes at the familiarity of it and you two settle down.

Damian stares at both of you befuddled. A heat creeps up your cheeks realizing that Dick is practically sitting on you. Dick, on the other hand, seems perfectly content with your current lack of personal space, so you leave it alone despite the incredulous look Damian is giving both of you. Dick snatches up your spoon taking a heap from your dessert. You make an offended noise in the back of your throat which he simply answers with another broad smile. Your lip twitches uncontrollably and your shoulders go slack.

“So what happened?”

You and Damian exchange a look. Damian rolls his eyes at you and you shrug at him performatively. “Nothing.” you two say in a chorus of nonchalance. It only succeeds in annoying Dick, so it was partially successful.

Dick pouts taking another bite of your desert. You stare in disbelief as the grownass man sitting next to you attempts to give you the puppy dog eyes as he eats your desert. You sign on exasperation because it's working and the bastard knows it. Richard John Grayson-Wayne is a manipulative asshole and you are a certified sucker.

You turn to Damian pleadingly begging him to please either help you or end you. Instead, he simply looks the two as if searching for an answer to a question forming in his mind. You run your hand over your face ready to concede when something clicks.

"Man-Bat got into GA and Damian fought him off." you say, praying Dick would catch on to the game. For a terrifying moment, he doesn’t. He blinks at you in confusion and your stomach sinks then a smile slowly spreads across his face lighting up every feature. Your heart swells at the sight.

"Bullshit. What was Man-Bat doing in GA?"

"Dunno,maybe bullying students. I don't know what bat creatures get up to." you say grinning. The picture becomes clear from every outlandish story. To your surprise, Damian joins in with a few vague details of his own giving even more details than you'd initially gathered.

Lunch passes pleasantly with outlandish stories and good food.

“NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne, New Face of Wayne Enterprises, Caught in a Torrid Love Affair with a Mystery Woman. Who Could this Exotic Beauty Be?”

“NEWS: Young Wayne Heir Being Extorted by Mystery Woman?”

“NEWS: Wayne Heir with Secret Family?”

Dick wants to evaporate somehow. He stares at the headlines mortified beyond what he ever thought possible. Maybe the floor will be merciful and it’ll finally swallow him as Jason reads another headline in a ridiculous newsreel voice.

“No, no wait. This one is fucking priceless!”

“Jason, please, I am begging you. STOP.” Dick whines, his face flattening against his work table. Tim shrugs, an amused smile adorns his face. Dick is going to scream. “Tim, please please please, make him stooop.” Tim ignores Dick in favor of scrolling through his own tablet looking, frankly unsympathetic.

“Oh a tryst!”

“Jason, you are making it sound so much worse.”

“Dunno, big bird, some of these make it sound like you fucked her over a table in the restaurant.” Jason watches in absolute delight as his older brother attempts to merge with the work bench, the tanned skin of his neck and ears burning a bright shade of crimson. Tim snickers, unhelpfully. Dick loved that his younger brothers were getting along for once. He just hated that for some reason they just had to be united against him. “All I did was kiss her on the cheek and eat her food.”

Jason gasps theatrically, feigning fainting. “Premarital kissing?! Dick, how could you? What’s next? Premarital hand holding? Think of the children.” Jason exclaims, dramatically pointing to Damian who at this point had been ignoring the ruckus Jason was causing.

“Jason, you’re awful and you’re being extremely dramatic.”

“Dick, you don’t exactly have any room to talk in that department.”

“Yeah, Mr. Pretty Man Down, Baby Bird has a point.” Jason says smugly as he offers Tim a fist bump which Tim reciprocates by shaking Jason's fist, a joking smile on his face. Jason snorts as if getting the joke or whatever movie reference this was from.

Tim's face folds into a barely held back smile. The laughter bubbling in the back of his throat straining his features. “I will say it is really funny that they didn’t recognize Damian.”

“You know how they are. They probably came up with something like the whole Damian being Bruce’s kid was actually just a cover up for Dick.” Somewhere in the background Damian makes a very displeased noise but Dick can't be bothered to lift his head to check.

“Please no. That doesn’t even-”

“Here’s one, NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne’s Baby Mama? Who is this mysterious woman?” Tim reads out flatly.

“The PR team is going to kill me. No, wait. Y/n is going to kill me first.”

“She won’t. She probably finds this hilarious.”

“How would she even find this funny?”

“Well, she does enjoy your suffering- Oh shit. This one might piss her off.” Jason clears his throat, sliding back into the newsreel voice. “DICK GRAYSON, HANDSOME PLAYBOY - WITH YET ANOTHER GIRLFRIEND - WILL HE EVER SETTLE DOWN?”

Dick is half tempted to throw his own tablet at the wall. What did he do to deserve this? You certainly don’t.

“Hey, at least, they called you handsome.” Tim laughs placatingly. It doesn’t work, of course.

Dick looks up at his little brother ruefully. “Oh yeah because the stuff about my looks was definitely the issue.”

“Well considering your morning routine...”

“I haven’t even been on a date so who are these other girlfriends?!”

“Well, me and Jason thought the same thing.” Tim shoots down sneering. When did his sweet baby brother turn to the dark side? Likely, Jason’s influence but deep down he knows Tim has always been capable of evil. Jason is cackling proudly.

“I don't see why you're concerning yourself with this drivel.” Damian says, swiping the tablet right in front of Dick forcing him to look up. Dick smiles at him wearily. “Dami, it’s a little hard when a photo of me kissing y/n on the cheek is plastered everywhere with weird headlines.” Damian tilts his head considering it but he shakes his head muttering something about pointlessness.

“Goddammit, Disco Stick!” The sound of your voice ringing out into the bunker sends their banter crashing to a halt. Dick feels his heart jump to his throat. He-- This was how he was going to die and for once he wasn’t sure he deserved it or not. You stand at the doorway haloed in bright light. At least, his angel of death would be the prettiest one, he thinks-- all the oxygen leaving his lungs.

Crumpled in your fist was a newspaper. Dick can feel his brothers take a step back as you draw near. Your footfalls were as steady as a pulse which made Dick’s own heart rate ratchet up. Your face is carefully impassive the way it always is when your anger was dosed with something else. Dick is sincerely hoping Jason is right about you being amused by the headlines.

You stop in front of him, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. You glower down at him frankly looking murderous before you snort and your face breaks into a smile. The thick tension in the air dissipates and the room releases its collective breath. The smile on your face grows even brighter. Nope, this is how Dick dies, his breath catching in his lungs as his mind fizzes out from the sight of your smile.

“I’m sorry?” Dick lifts himself off the table just barely, still bracing for any sudden wave of anger that will, justifiably, roll over you at some point.

You lean your body on to the spot next to him, letting the table support your weight. Straightening the newspaper in your hands, you frown. “I look terrible in this.”

“You look beautiful.” Dick blurts out. You raise your brow at him incredulously. Jason folds over trying to hold back laughter, his shoulders trembling. Tim just shrinks from second hand embarrassment.

“No, she is correct. She looks repulsive.” Damian says flatly as he snatches the paper from you.

You let out a breathy laugh. “To be fair, anyone would look repulsive next to professional pretty boy Dickie Wayne.” There was no sharpness in your teasing. You look at the photo over Damian’s shoulder. It was a cute photo actually. Dick’s arm loops around your shoulder as he gives you a kiss on your cheek as Damian blanches at Dick’s very public display of affection. It was hilariously easy to see where they got the idea that you two were a couple. You weren’t. You haven’t been for awhile. The thought wrenches something a dull ache inside you. You flatten your lips preventing the edges from dipping into a frown.

A look crosses between Jason and Tim. Tim leans over, asking in a hushed whisper, “I thought they were back together.”

“Dunno they act like it.” Jason shrugs watching your movement. As if to prove his point, you and Dick lean into each other’s space as you bicker about the merits of Gothamite photographers. Jason is half tempted to shove you two together.

“What are you two talking about?” You ask, finally leaning away from Dick.

“Nothing-”

“They were pondering the state of your relationship. I myself have been pondering it.”

For a moment, your eyes meet. For a moment, you are back in a drab hotel in Moscow. For a moment, you are crying your heart out in his arms trying to push him away.

You click your teeth and stare Damian in the eyes not entirely sure what kind of emotions they were betraying. “We were a thing.” Damian’s brow shoots up. You hear someone’s hand slap against their forehead.

You flush wanting to disappear but hold your stance. You hear Dick chuckle beside you as he stands shoulder to shoulder with you. Something in you eases with the closeness, like a gap being filled. “We used to be a couple.” Dick supplies, saving you from your flailing. You tap your finger against the back of his hand as a silent thank you. He taps yours twice in reciprocation. You look down trying to hide a smile.

Jason and Tim look at each other again and nod.

“We should probably go.” Jason says carrying Damian under his arm.

“Todd, unhand me! We are not done here!”

“We’ll see you two later.” Tim waves giving Dick a knowing smile. Dick’s heart jumps up to his throat while his stomach drops to the floor. Is this really the time for his brother’s to play cupid?

You lean in, letting your body press into Dick’s side as you listen to their footsteps fade away. Your head settling on his shoulder hand bracing you against the workbench. You let the stillness settle and make everything around you more solid.

Dick shifts a bit, his fingers lacing in with yours. The gesture makes your heart twinge, the chasm in your chest yawning with longing. You swallow. The air is thick with unspoken words like smoke clogging up your lungs. You think that if you could just pluck the right one out of thin air, you could clear the air.

‘I love you’ itches in the back of your throat but what right did you have to say that to him even after all this time.

Beside you, Dick is smiling and relishing your presence. The silver glint of your earring winking at him from beneath your hair. He had gotten you that on your first date, a little souvenir you got to commemorate the occasion.

Dick pivots in front of you making your breath catch. His free hand brushing your hair behind your ear revealing the silver robin on your ear. Silver robins. You had at the time laughed at the absurdity of it but here they were years later. Dick’s hands settle on either side of you boxing you in against the table. Even when he’s got you trapped like this, you feel at ease knowing Dick would never hurt you. Dick leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still intertwined with yours. Your pulse is loud in your ears. You lean your forehead against his, eyes sliding close soaking up the contact.

“It’s always been you.” Dick says breathlessly. The words do not register, too dreamlike in their conception. You always hoped and wished that you could take it back, that you had never left, that he would love you the same way he did before but you were never foolish enough to hold on to things like that with both hands. Yet here Dick was whispering things that you only let yourself dream of.

“It’s always been you.” He repeats as if the repetition could make it more real. You swallow the lump in your throat trying to find your voice but you’re afraid that once you speak, the room would catch fire and the dream would dissolve into harsh reality.

Dick gently cups your face and for a moment you let yourself be lost in the sea of blue. The stinging in your eyes makes you blink even if you don’t want to. You lick your lips as if somewhere on them were the right words.

You can’t even fathom the combination of words that could encapsulate the cocktail of longing and love you felt for him.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip as your eyes focus on his lips. You swallow again your throat feeling thick even as you lean into his space, pushing off the work bench. Your nose rubbing against his, his long lashes fluttering against your cheek and tickling your skin. Dick leans in, his lips on yours, the pressure barely enough to make contact. You twitch forward, lips melting against his. The world around you stills and disintegrates leaving only him in its wake.

The kiss is all tender softness, a promise of love and loyalty quietly exchanged between you. A delicate push and pull. Undemanding yet uncompromising in its gentle intensity.

You both pull back, only barely. Your skins still thrum with hunger for contact. Dick leans in again, his lips brushing against yours making them tingle at the sensation. Murmured breaths exchanged between you. This time you both find the right words.

Dick turning to reader seeing the familiar glint of her earing

“I still love you.”

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

I was thinking it was just them in the cave standing next to each others fingers twining with each other leaning into each other's space

he brushes the strands of her hair away

After brushing her hair away he presses his forehead against hers and he just kind of comes out with it

like he'd been holding back on saying it but couldn't anymore

Why not have the reader do something like this?

What if she nudges her nose against his? Or rubs her nose against his, like an Eskimo kiss? And it’s silent, her eyelashes flutter against his cheek. They say in Inuit, when you feel eyelashes stroke on your skin like that, it’s a way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it.

And maybe Dick knows that? Without her actually saying the words and he just smiled and captures her lips in a delicate kiss. And when they pull back, they both say it at the same time against each other’s lip, all hushed and murmured?

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Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #Damian Wayne #batboys x reader #batfamily x reader #damian wayne x sister!reader #dc x reader #dc reader insert #merc!reader

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draco-kasai · 3 years

Text

Hero Collaboration Program

Summery: High School Hero Collaboration Program! Helping Sophomore hero students connect with others around the world! Come join us for a two-week-long trip to one of our schools for an amazing once in a lifetime experience with students of Yuuei! Only a lucky 40 students will be selected for this program. They will be split into two groups of 20 and sent to different schools to have completely unique experiences!

A/N: AKA, A very ambitious fanfic I started because even though I have another fanfic in progress my brain decided to give me an idea and I just had to do it. These are all characters I adore and I even did lots of reasurch on them to hopefuly get them down right. I also too many backstories and threw them into a meat grinder to remold them in a way that would make them fit into this universe.

I love Class 1-A, but like they need to be taken down a peg or two, and I want to see them get their asses handed to them.

Ch. 1 part 1 of 3 Program sign-ups. -->

Chapter 1 Part 2

High School Hero Collaboration Program

Helping first year hero students connect with others around the world!

What is the HSHC Program?

Our program has had a partnership with Yuuei High School for 15 long years! Their first-year students would come to our schools to interact, learn and study with other sophomore students for two weeks! - For those who don’t know, first year high school students in Japan would be considered sophomores here in the states! - A select few students nationwide as well as worldwide are selected to participate. All services and activities are offered and provided at no cost to participants or their families. This program is geared to help young heroes become (1) more informed of the educational, social, and cultural aspects available, (2) learn how to work with others they are unfamiliar with, (3) gain a better understanding of hero agencies and laws around the world, (4) assist students in successfully gaining connections with other aspiring heroes around the world their own age.

Student Participants

A total of 40 lucky students are hand selected to take part in this 16 day long program. 28 slots are open for Nationwide applications. The remaining 12 slots are open for applicants across the world! Students are to go through a long application process and in person interview. Once admitted, students will be staying within the dorms that are provided. All plane tickets will be paid for by our program. This program will take place in two schools; Marina High School located in California and Chandler High School located in Arizona.

All partners who wish to apply together must submit a joint application and answer an extra essay question. Only accepting duo teams. Bigger teams are asked to either pair off and sign up as duos, or sign up individually. The whole purpose of this program is for young aspiring heroes to meet others and form connections.

Application

All applicants are required to turn in two essays (unless a team). There is no page or word limit, 12 size text, font New Times Roman, single space. Along with your essays, please send in two teacher recommendation letters. A checklist will be provided at the end of this packet. Make sure to use it to assist you in keeping organized. Everything can be either faxed to (951-262-3062), given to school office faculty to hand to us or through mailed to 1640 Riverside Drive, Hill Valley, California.

Applicants that make it past the first stage of the application process will be scheduled for an in-person interview. A letter will be sent out within two weeks after the interview confirming whether or not you have been accepted.

Essay 1.

When you become a hero, what do you hope to accomplish?

Essay 2.

What major event in your life has led you to where you are now and your decision to become a hero?

Essay question for hero teams.

How did you meet, and when did you decide to work together as a team?

Emerald eyes narrowed as they skimmed over the packet that had been handed to them. With one last look over, they turned to face the person who had given them the packet. Bright blue eyes stared back with a large smile plastered on their lips. “What is this, Grayson?”

“It’s the Hero Collaboration Program!” Richard Grayson – Part-time Gotham Police officer and Underground Hero: Nightwing - responded enthusiastically.

Green eyes rolled skyward at the older boy’s words, “I can see that. All my teachers at school had even taken the liberty to constantly remind us about it. What I mean is, why did you give this to me?”

“Awe common, Kiddo, I thought you were smart.” Jason Todd – Vigilante: Red Hood – joked as he ruffled the younger boy’s black hair. With an annoyed grunt, his hand was swatted away, “We want you to apply for the program.”

With a huff, the youngest fixed his hair, “And why would I do such a thing?”

The oldest boy grinned wider, “It’ll be fun!”

“No.” The youngest replied with a deadpan expression as he tossed the thin packet on the coffee table in front of him.

With a click of his tongue, Jason crossed his arms over his chest. Leaning back on the loveseat, he responded, “Just apply you brat, it’s not even that bad.”

“What’s ‘not that bad’?” Another voice asked as they walked into the living room, laptop in one hand, a cup of coffee in another.

“The Hero Collaboration Program.” Jason responded as he glanced over at the sleep-deprived man as he flopped down next to him.

“Oh! They started accepting applicants already?!” Timothy Drake – CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Underground Hero: Red Robin - sat up enthusiastically.

“Yeah, but Damian doesn’t want to apply!” Dick pouts

“I’m not going to apply to a program that does not benefit me in any way shape or form.” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Wha- but it teaches you so much! Your teachers must have told you about the benefits!” Tim frowned, taking a sip of his coffee.

“They did, but I don’t have any need for socializing.”

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been six years and your only friends are Jon and Maya, and honestly, I don’t think it counts. Maya is in her last year of high school and Jon is a year below you. You need friends your own age.” Jason responded, then waved his hand about, “Even if they're scattered across the continent.”

“I thought he made friends when he was sent to that boarding school in San Francisco for two years when he was eleven?” Dick raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, Titan middle school, right?" Tim hums, "I mean, they helped him become better, I guess?"

"Honestly, I feel like that was the work of the school itself, not them. Besides, Damian doesn't even text or call them like he does Maya and Jon." Jason huffs

“You've been snooping through my phone.” Damian glares as he pulls a knife from nowhere like magic.

"In that case, how will this help him if he isn't even close to people he went to school with for two years?" Tim thought out loud.

"Well, back then it was regular school and classes. Schools don't offer more hero electives till sophomore year in high school. The program does lots of team building and training. What better way to make friends than when your life's in their hands?"

"That's a good point," Tim nods in agreement.

“Didn’t you, like, date Raven while you were over there?” Dick teased, elbowing his brother

“No. I did NOT date Raven.”

“Wha- really? You seemed so close.” Dick blinks in surprise.

"Dude, she's dating Garfield."

"What?! Really?"

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Kori."

"Oh… right, I forgot she mentioned that."

"Dude, she's your wife. If she knows you block out her rants, she's going to kill you."

"... I don't… block out her rants."

“We’re straying off-topic.” Tim hums, hiding his smirk with his drink as Damian, who proceeded to slowly stand, shoots him a glare before a hand grabs the back of his color and pulled him back down.

“Oh! Right, the Hero Collaboration Program!” Dick grins

“I think Damian taking part in the program is a good idea.” Everyone's eyes flickered over to the entrance where Bruce Wayne – Owner of Wayne Enterprises and Underground Hero: Batman – stood with Alfred Pennyworth, besides him. “This program will benefit you and help you make friends with people your own age, maybe even teach you something new.”

“Your brothers all attended the program, master Damian.” Alfred gave the boy an encouraging smile as he handed out drinks for everyone in the room, “In a way you could consider it a tradition at this point.” The younger boy took his drink silently as he pondered the words the older man had given him.

“Oh yeah, I guess it kind of is tradition at this point, huh…” Tim hummed, finishing his coffee and graciously handing the empty cup to Alfred, who shoved a cup of water in his hands.

“I joined during… what? During their third year of existence?” Dick wondered out loud as he leaned back on the couch.

“That’s correct, master Dick.”

“Haa~ I was Bruce’s test dummy to make sure the program was actually useful.” Dick chuckled softly.

“Pft seriously? Thanks for your sacrifice.” Jason smirked, making Tim let out a soft laugh.

“I suppose.” Everyone fell silent to look at the youngest Wayne, “If it’s a tradition at this point, I suppose I have no other choice but to partake in it as well.”

“That’s the spirit, Lil D!” Jason grinned.

“You’ll have fun. You’ll learn a lot, too.” Tim smiled, taking the smallest of sip of his water. With a glare from Alfred, he took a bigger gulp.

“Yes! Oh, man! I can’t wait for you to tell us about it when you get back! Maybe we should tell him stories of our experience!?” Dick energetically exclaimed as he practically bounced in his seat.

Bruce gave the boys a soft appeasing smile as they all cheered, making Damian scrunch up his face at the loud sound. With a soft sigh, he walked across the room to his office. Along the way, he gave his youngest a soft hair ruffle, making him groan.

Damian Wayne. Age 16. Seat 11. Student Rank 1. Hero Name: Red Bird. Quirk: Quirkless

Martial arts, hand-to-hand, sword, expert detective, hacker, stealth.

___

“Alright, class, make sure to think about signing up for that program! It’s a very good opportunity! You’re dismissed for lunch!” Mr. Barkin, a big man with an obvious werewolf mutation, dismissed his class.

A slim girl with long bright brown hair walked next to a beautiful dark-skinned girl with wavy black locks. The ginger hummed as she stared down at the packet that had been handed to them near the end of class, “I don’t know, what do you think Monique?”

“I think it sounds like a lot of fun! Kim, girl, this is an O.I.A.L.T. E; Once In A Life Time Experience!” Monique paused and frowned.

“That was a long one.” Kim smirks at her friend.

“Ugh, I know. Never gonna use that one again.” The girl waved her hand in the air. Both girls stopped in front of a locker, “But It still stands! You should totally do it!”

“But what about you? And – and Ron?” Kim leans against the lockers, watching as her friend opens hers to put away her books.

“Psssh~ Pu-lease, I’ll be fine! I’ve got work at Club Banana and a bunch of homework to keep me company!” The brown eyed girl closed her locker, and they began their trip to Kim’s locker, “As for Ron, well-“

“K.P!!” Both girls turn to see a blond rushing over, “Did you hear about the exchange program!? Are you signing up? Please tell me you’re not leaving me! We’re supposed to be a team!!” He cried out as he hugged his friend.

The redhead huffed softly before prying her friend off her, “Ron, so not cool.”

“Yeah I – sorry K.P I just – I heard about the program and assumed you’d sign up and leave without me.” Ron sniffled dramatically. From his pocket, a small pink rodent climbed up to his shoulder and nodded in agreement, making small squeaking noises. “See! Rufus and I would miss you…”

Monique rolled her eyes with a smirked as she gently pushed the two forward to keep walking, “You know, the program is accepting team sign ups~”

“Wait really!?” Ron gasped as he brought the packet back up to read. “Oh my god, they are!”

Kim frowns, “I don’t know, then you’d really be alone, Monique.” They stop at her locker.

“Oh common Kim. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity! You have to S. I; seize it! You’re not going to be a sophomore forever, girl.” Monique leaned on the lockers with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Yeah! It’s a good opportunity to learn about other school systems! Did you see who they're partnered with K. P? It’s Yuuei High school! Yuuei! They're, like, the best in Japan! At least that's what the rest of this thing says and what Yori told me when I did that whole” Ron waves his hand in a circle as he shrugs, “seven day long Japan exchange thing during First Semester.”

“You still have yet to tell us much about that.” Kim smirks as she opens her locker, “Japan is one of those places that have schools that specialize in training hero’s, right?”

“That’s right!” Everyone looked up to the projection of a boy their age sitting at a desk, “Hey girls! Hi Ron, Rufus, Whatcha guys talkin’ bout?”

“Hey Wade. We’re just talking about Some program that’s partnered with Yuuei.” Kim smiled at the screen as she put her things in the locker.

“Oh! The Hero Collaboration Program?” Wade’s smile widens.

Kim rolls her eyes half-heartedly at her friends' excitement. “Of course you’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah! Tell Kim that She’s GOT to GO!” Monique gave her friend a glare.

“Wade! Tell us about Yuuei High School!” Ron practically begged, shoving past Kim before standing behind her again. His best friend shot him an annoyed glare.

With a sigh, Kim finally nods, “Tell us about the school.”

Wade grins and begins quickly typing away on his laptop. A few images began appearing next to him, “As you know, Yuuei High School is known as a hero school. They’re known for ranking number 1 in hero schools across Japan. Their competitor, coming in second by just a bit, is Shiketsu High School. If you ask me though, Shiketsu is obviously better, I mean, look at those uniforms! So wicked! Look at those hats and blazers!”

“Right, about Yuuei.” Kim gently reprimands when she notices her friend is straying off-topic.

“Oh, right! So, from what I’m seeing so far, I think Yuuei has an unfair entrance exam.”

“They have Entrance Exams?” Monique asked with a raised brow.

Wade nods, “Yeah. In Japan, to get into high schools, students are required to take an entrance exam.”

“Right, so, why do you think it’s unfair?” Kim raised a brow

“Well, looking at their sports festival, Just about everyone in the hero program has a “flashy” quirk. When you compare it to other hero school’s and their graduating classes, their quirks are more balanced. Um, one sec” Wade’s eyes narrowed, his pointer finger stretches out like a wire, and he connects to his computer. A moment later, his eyes turn blue and data begins to quickly rush through.

“Is it just me or is he… taking longer than usual?” Ron raises an eyebrow after four minutes pass.

“Mm, another reason to be glad our school has an hour-long lunch…” Monique hums as she leans on a leg, a hand on her hip. They watched in silence as Wade frowned and bit his lower lip. After three more minutes, the boy smirks, disconnecting himself, making his eyes turn back to normal. “Got it.” he grins as he leans back in his seat.

“Uuuuh, got what?” Ron tilts his head in confusion.

“I hacked into their system. It was pretty tricky considering it was made by the smartest being in the world, but nothing compared to me and my quirk. They had a bunch of firewalls and backups too, I think it was a lot of fun to get through.” Wade smirks as he shows them different class schedules for different courses, “I redacted all the important information, but it seems like this school also separates all of their courses. Hero course students, General Education, business, and support. They all learn different things, never interacting unless necessary.”

“That’s… different.” Kim raises an eyebrow. “Um, should you really be hacking into the system of the ‘world's smartest being’ Wade?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it, Kim. Hack helps make sure I’m untraceable and if Nedzu did get an alert, which I worked my way around, and somehow traces a location it’ll just lead him to random computers in a random location of Japan.”

“Wow, The support course students don’t have any combat classes.” Ron frowned, obviously preferring to look at the schedules to listening to the conversation.

“Hold up - Why does General Education have a Quirk Positivity class? This is high school? Shouldn't they have that class in elementary school?” Monique crossed her arms over her chest. Face filled with confusion.

“Right? Not just that, but the school conducts a sports festival, that they compare to the Olympics every year, that puts all the courses against one another.” Wade closes and erases the schedules, replacing them with a video reel of fights and highlights.

“Wha - why even call it a sports festival!? All they're doing is fighting?” Ron frowns before grinning as he watches one of the students punch another, “Booya! Look at that right hook!”

“Oh snap! He flipped him like a pancake!” Monique grinned as they watched the highlight reels.

“Why would they do that? Isn’t that practically advertising your quirk to all the villains in the area?” Kim rose an eyebrow

“It says that it’s done to ‘promote their students to other heroes for field studies.’ The kids receive internship requests by heroes that want to take them on. It’s dumb though because, according to this, only fifteen students from both hero classes combined got internship requests! And one of them got 4,123 requests!”

“They're promoting their students like they're the newest fashion trend.” Monique frowns, looking away from the video.

“That’s… only fifteen kids? Seriously? What about the others? Do they just… not do anything? Why can’t they all just apply like we do? I - My brain can’t process...” Rufus squeaks in sympathy as he pats Ron’s cheek with his paw.

Monique frowns in thought, “Hey, wait a minute… you said that the sports festival includes all the students, right?”

“Yeah, Three day’s worth of sports festival, one for each grade.”

The girl scoffed, “They're using the other courses to make the hero course look better, aren’t they?”

“What do you mean, Monique?” Kim frowns

“Think about it, girl, you saw the schedules. The hero course is the only course with combat training.” Kim’s eyes widened in realization.

“Duuuude, not cool! If they all had at least the same level of experience, it would be a lot better.” Ron frowns as he crosses his arms.

“Exactly! Personally, I prefer the way our school system is set up. Anyone who wants to take hero classes can take them, and if you don’t finish the credits, you’re in the academy longer. Not to mention, anyone who wants field experience could just apply and do the internships.” Wade crossed his hands over his chest.

“Wade, you're taking support course electives.” Kim smiled softly, “but you have a point.”

“Of course I do! I’m doing field study with the space center! You and Ron go every other weekend to work with the hero agency, and when vacation comes along you’ll be allowed to do more than just patrol. I just… this is just... “Wade signs, “At least I know how to fight and defend myself if anything were to occur.”

“A little worked up there huh, Wade...” Ron gave him a sympathetic smile

“Sorry.” He smiles sheepishly, “Anyway, will you and Kim be applying guys? They accept duo teams.” Kim thinks about it for a moment before letting out a soft sigh and smile.

“You know what? What the heck, let’s do it, Ron.” Kim smiles, “I think it’ll be really cool to get in and talk to other people not from around here. Make some new friends, and possible future partners.”

“Boo-ya! We’re so getting in!” Ron held up a finger for Rufus to high five.

Kim and Monique smile at one another, thanking Wade, the redhead closes her locker, “We can celebrate with Bueno Nacho AFTER we get accepted. For now, let's go get lunch before the break ends.”

“You think they’d let Rufus in?”

“Ron, I don’t know if they’d let your pet in the program.” Monique smiled

“Gasp! Pet? Rufus is NOT a pet! He is our partner!” the little rodent nods in agreement as he squeaks in response.

“Maybe we could ask when we get past the interview process. We’ll have to see, don’t get your hopes up, though, Ron.” Kim smiles softly, patting the boy's shoulder.

Kim Possible. Age 16. Seat 2. Student Rank 2. Hero Name: Possible. Quirk: Quirkless.

Kung fu, acrobatics and gymnastics, cheerleading skills, martial arts, hand to hand

Ron Stoppable. Age 16. Seat 9. Student Rank 11. Hero Name: Koi. Quirk: Karmic Luck.

His good luck fixes his bad luck. His natural bad luck places him in bad situations, however thanks to his quirk they always turn in his favor. For example, He once tripped over a rock, which caused him to dodge bird poop coming at him.

Basic Hand to hand, Ninjutsu

____

A young teen with black hair sat in a chair in their room, the red sleeves of his sweater pulled up to his elbows as he tinkered with a few things. The door to the room slowly opened to show a scrawny man with his blond hair in a beanie. Seeing his younger friend working, he walked in and waved the others in. Walking in, everyone made themselves comfortable in the room. A buff, burly man, walked closer to the teen. With a good slap on the back, making the boy shout in surprise, he greeted him.

“Hey there, little man!” He grinned widely, crossing his arms over his chest. Brown eyes blinked in surprise as he spun around on his chair to face the four adults.

“Oh! Hey guys! What brings you four here?” The younger boy asked with a smile as he adjusts himself in his seat. The adults all glanced at each other for a moment. A girl with purple streaks in her hair held out a packet to him, a small smile on her lips.

“We wanted you to apply for the Hero Collaboration Program.” Honey Lemon began as the boy began to read it.

“You’re a really smart kid, Hiro. Graduated from high school early, taking hero and support classes at the same time at the institute.” Gogo smiles.

“You’ve made awesome support weapons and during battle training you’re, like, wicked smart.” Fred praises.

“Buuuut you’re also a kid. A kid that’s friends with a bunch of adults, we want you to make some friends your own age.” Wasabi grinned sheepishly, everyone nodded in agreement.

“Do… you guys not like being my friends?” Hiro frowns, looking back up at them, dejection clear on his face.

“No!” They all shouted at once.

“It’s not like that!”

“We love being your friend, little dude!”

“You’re an awesome dude!”

“We don’t hate you!”

“We’re not trying to make you feel like we hate you!” Wasabi sighed as he ran a hand down his face, “We just want you to make friends your own age.”

“Yeah, you graduated from high school pretty early on general studies, and are now taking both hero and support classes at the institute, but you never really got a chance to make friends your age.” Honey Lemon explained.

“We already called to ask if you’d be able to apply.” Gogo smiled.

“Yeah! They said that they understand the circumstances considering your quirk and will make an exception! Of course, they said that just because they’re letting you apply doesn’t mean you will be accepted! That’s all on you, my dude!” Fred grinned as he shot the young teen finger guns.

Hiro stared down at the packet in his hands for a moment. They're not wrong. Because of his quirk, he had practically breezed through school and graduated at 11. He’s never been interested in heroics or any of that stuff, but even if he wanted to, no hero school would have accepted him because of his young age. Finding boredom in just staying home, he began to tinker with things and began to build small robots for fun - and maybe to con a few people out of their money - but he’s never pursued anything specific.

He hadn’t even thought about going into support until his older brother had brought it up when he was thirteen. After lots of hard work, he had gotten into the biggest hero school in the Tokyo prefecture, Institute for Heroics and Technology. He thought about applying to UA in shizuoka but he decided that the school was too over rated and stayed in Tokyo. He had stuck to the technical side of things, at least till his brother was killed in an explosion. It had taken a lot of convincing, but he was able to get his friends to help him take down the villain that caused it. He and his friends had become vigilantes and once they had captured the culprit he was reluctant to stop. It wasn’t long till he found himself in the heroics courses as well.

Now that he’s reflecting on it, they're right. He doesn’t have any friends his own age. Taking a deep breath, he nods, “Alright, sure. I’ll apply.”

“Really!?” Honey Lemon practically squeals in excitement.

“Yeah, besides, it says that the kids at Yuuei are participating. They’ve been through a bunch of villain attacks already, It’ll be interesting to see how they compare to other heroes in training.” Hiro leaned back in his seat, a leg crossing to rest on the other.

“Oh… Oh, no, that’s his ‘I have plans’ smirk, guys.” Fred stage whispered to the others.

“Should I be feeling bad for the Yuuei kids or the exchange kids he’ll be with if he’s accepted?” Wasabi asked, making Hiro burst into a fit of laughter.

“... Both.” Honey Lemon squeaked.

“He’s going to have fun.” Gogo smirked.

Hiro Hamada. Age: 15. Seat 13. Student rank 3. Hero Name: Zero. Quirk: Prodigy

His brain functions at a faster rate than possible, making it easy for him to process and retain information, giving him genius level intelligence.

Hand to hand, Martial Arts, builds his own support items.

_____

“No way man.” A dark skinned boy groaned as he tossed his backpack on the ground and sat himself on his desk chair, the wheels sending him back a bit.

“What? Miles, dude common. This event is for sophomores ONLY. You’re never getting this opportunity, ever again!” Another male walked into the shared room and closed the door behind him.

“Ganke I just got the hang of swinging around, the school year is going to end in a few months meaning finals are coming up, I don’t need to stress myself out more with this program.” Miles huffed in response, riffling through his backpack he pulled out his textbooks.

Sitting himself at his own desk, the boy responded as he grabbed his own things, “That was three months ago dude. The school year doesn’t even end until June, we’re barely getting into November, and this program is supposed to be fun. Did you even read that packet? You’ve been stressing yourself too much by adding so much training on top of your school work.”

“...... I can’t rest Ganke, you know that. I have to hurry up and graduate, so I can take over what Peter had left for me.” Miles let out a tired sigh as he slumped back on his chair and stared at the ceiling. “I know what happened to him wasn’t my fault, I get that, but… I just… I could have done more, you know? Like, I know he took me in for field studies because we have similar quirks, but I’ve looked up to him for so long and to be acknowledged only for it to be torn away all of a sudden… We became so close… He wanted me to take over the mantle of Spider-man and I just… I can’t let him down…”

Ganke sat in silence for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts before speaking, “I get that you want to take over the mantle of your mentor, but common man. Take a breather. We’re teenagers and you're burning yourself out. Peter wouldn’t want you to burn yourself out like this. You need this break.”

Silence fell in the dorm room once again as both boys started their homework. It wasn’t long for Miles to find himself tapping his pencil against his desk. Ganke’s words floating about in his mind. With a weary sigh, Miles re-read the packet that he pulled out from where he had stuffed it in a text book. “Your right… I do need a break.”

Ganke grinned widely and kicked off to roll over to his friend, “That a boy!” he cheered, slapping his friend’s shoulder, “Now then, let's talk support items! I've had this idea on making little nubs for your gloves that can discharge electricity for like a week now! I bet you’d like it! The trip is supposed to be in Late February, right? We have so much time! We can test them after school! You can even put them to use on the field when you do actual combat during Christmas break’s field studies!” Miles snorted at his friend's enthusiasm.

Miles Morales. Age 15. Seat 9. Student Rank 4. Hero Name: Spider-man. Quirk: Dolophanes Conifera.

Has characteristics of a wrap around spider. He can camouflage with his surroundings and shoot spiderwebs from a small hole from his wrists. He can effortlessly cling and climb walls thanks to the settles on his hands and feet. Is most active during the night. If he bites anyone, a venom is injected to temporarily stun his victim.

Hand to hand, fast reflexes, flexible

____

A raven haired boy with bright blue eyes groaned in frustration as he slammed his face on the kitchen table. His older sister with red hair frowned with worry, “What’s wrong, Danny?”

“Mr. Lancer handed out some packet for heroes and, like it sounds like fun, but it doesn’t allow trio teams.” Danny responded as he rested his chin on the table.

“Hero? I thought Tucker is in for support, while Sam handles the business aspect when you guys started your own agency?” The older sibling frowned in confusion.

Danny sticks his lower lip out in a pout, “Well, yeah but…” He sits up right, “Sam and Tucker are encouraging me to sign up, and It’s cool and all, but… I just…” The boy paused, turning over the words in his head in an attempt to organize them. His sister waited patiently for him to speak again, “I’ve never felt so… lonely I guess. Like… Tucker and, surprisingly enough, Kyle are going to be handling the Support items and any other tech-savvy stuff. Sam has Wes for business stuff, even if they do argue a lot, but I… have nobody.” The boy buries his face in his hands, “It’s stupid, I know…”

“W - what about Valery? She wants to be a hero too, right? You two were pretty close…?” His sister tries to reassure.

“Yeah, but she hates my guts now, Jazz. Remember the whole incident I told you about with quirk training?”

His older sister frowns at this. Her blue eyes looked over to the packet her brother had set aside. Taking it, she read it over silently before smiling softly, “Well, I definitely agree with Sam and Tucker that you should apply.”

Danny looks up with a frown, “But I’d be all alone…”

“Danny, the whole point of the program is to meet young aspiring heroes your own age. I'm sure you’ll make a friend or two while you’re out there.” Handing her brother the packet, she watched as his eyes roamed over the words again.

“I… I guess you’re right.”

Jazz smiles reassuringly at her brother, “Of course I’m right. Now then, let me help you fill that thing out.”

Daniel James Fenton. Age 16. Seat 8. Student Rank 5. Hero Name: Phantom, Quirk: - REDACTED - Ghost.

After turning four, his quirk, cryokinesis, had manifested. When he was 11 he was involved in a lab accident that -REDACTED- mutated his quirk. He can now turn invisible at will, walk through solid objects, fly, minor telekinesis, ghost wail, cryokinesis. He has no need to breathe, can last a week without food.

Hand to hand, night vision, stealth, enhanced hearing.

Chapter 1 Part 2

#fanfiction #my hero academia au #this story is very ambitious #i really hope you guys like this #my friends and I really made laws #and a whole school system #damian wayne #kim possible #ron stoppable #hiro hamada #miles morales #Danny Phantom #crossover fanfiction

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bubblyani · 4 years

Text

Bail Out : 10 (FINAL)

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 10: Life Sentence (Final Chapter)

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 6200+

Rating: Mature (18+)

Warnings: Violence, Swearing and Sexual Content

Author’s Note: The Final Chapter is finally here! As much as it makes me happy to give this the ending I wanted, I am truly sad to part with this Series. Hope you will enjoy this for the last time <3

CHAPTER LIST

Serene was the nocturnal sky, generously adorned with stars that shone like diamonds. Though an obstinate circle of clouds slowly advanced from the distance, the sky brimmed with enough confidence. Enough to conquer the night with its serenity. A sheer contradiction to the chaos that conquered the rooftop of Wayne Tower. Chaos that morphed into a fight to the death.

Gripping on to the phone, a surge of hope rushed through your system within a matter of seconds. For Blake’s message helped. It was the solution to all this. “LOOK OUT!” Batman’s growl made you look back. Your face grew pale the moment your eyes caught the sight of Emilio, pointing a gun at you. All happened in a matter of seconds. “You’re getting away that easy!” He said, chill embodying him with his hand in the trigger. It seemed death was greedy for your company. Frozen in place, Would you accept? “Goodby-Ow!” A surprise attack greeted Emilio from the back as the Dark Knight forcefully bashed his head with his elbow, leaving Mr. Slender on the ground, fully unconscious. You sighed looking at Batman, relieved to find him well. Except, you realized the evening was not fully resolved. Wait! Your heart raced frantically. Where was Clara all the sudden? Darkness was an ally to Clara, camouflaged as she ambushed Batman from the back. You gasped as you saw her grab his neck with a black wire, forcing him to fall on his knees as she began to strangle him with it. A strong man, he certainly was. You needed no proof. However, sneak attacks such a this were practically anyone’s weakness. Thus, his agonizing roars frightened you. Seemed that death turned its attention somewhere else. And that frightened you more. “No…Bruce” You whimpered to yourself, as your heartbeat grew fast in ten folds. Never had you lost anyone you cared for. And as weak as it seemed, you were not prepared to lose him. Not him. Not him at all.

“Wait! WAIT!!” You yelled at Clara, “DON’T DO THIS! NOT TO HIM!!”   Unfortunately, those words did not reach Clara’s ears. Not when her focus was elsewhere. Even through the cowl, Bruce’s face had turned gaunt, struggling to pull the wire off his neck, but failing miserably. With gritted teeth and groans of frustration, Batman was as helpless as he could be. Smothering yourself by the sight of him this way, tears pooled around your eyes. And at that moment.That very moment, was when a memory flashed before you:

 “You know what? It’s a darn shame Joe Chill didn’t finish the job…He should have gotten rid of the entire Wayne family”

You remembered Henderson’s harsh words, insulting and harming the reputation of the man you admired before you at the hotel one fateful night. Then you also remembered the rage in your eyes, taking justice into action as your fist bashed through his nose.

Now here you were, having to stand up for the same man once more, except in actual dire circumstances. For it was his life that was harmed instead of his reputation. Being the reckless woman you were before will certainly not help.Not with her. Not with an opponent of this magnitude. As time ticked fast, you had to take action. Smart was key. Practicality was key. His life was key. Tightening your fists, you drew in a deep breath:

“ALPHA!!…” You cried out, to which she did not answer once again. Pressing your lips together, you yelled louder: “CLARA!! I KNOW, OKAY?…” You said, "I know, being in your position, you don’t wanna hear me out. I know!” You continued, “Especially me being the target but…” drawing in another breath for courage, you added, “But I ask you to make an exception...Oh god!” Covering your mouth, You gasped as she strangled him tighter. Unaffected, Clara scoffed:   “No offense but…A job is a job…” Gathering the courage that spilled all around, you held on to the phone tightly: “Yeah maybe but..What if the job is NOT worth it?” You inquired loudly. Looking up, she seemed a bit surprised. “What?” “I mean…” you paused, “Is Henderson really giving you what he promised?” You said, raising both arms, “Or don’t you have a feeling that he’s stalling ?” Clara stood straight. “What makes you say that??” She snapped defensively. “This…” You replied, pointing at your phone as you played the Blake’s file on loudspeaker: It was a conversation between two men.

“Sir, about the Bruiser, I think the police maybe onto us” One man said, his tone rife with concern. “Don’t worry, she’ll finally be taken care of” the other voice replied. Which seemingly was Henderson’s. “When do you want to wire the rest of the payment to Alpha?” Henderson’s cackle was loud, “Payment??” He repeated, “No that’s not gonna happen, Paterson” “Sir?” Paterson was confused. “This Alpha..he’s is a sly one, and definitely not the obedient kind. Do you think my plan was to pay that son of a bitch in full?? Nah...as soon as the job is done, I’m gonna get them all arrested...Cause no one...No one messes with Henderson” “But sir-” “THAT’S FINAL!”

Calmer was what you felt, as you put the phone back in your pocket. A few seconds of silence was all that required for Clara to loosen her grip on Batman. Her expression changed. It was filled with shock, as if the recording had slapped her in the face.

“Don’t you see??” You chuckled sadly, “Henderson is trying to make a fool out of ALL of us.” As you pointed at her, at Batman, even Emilio, “In the end...it’s us who’s getting screwed” Staring at the ground, Clara’s eyebrows furrowed. Being a pawn in someone else’s game was never good news, “That message could have easily been fabricated! ” She snapped with naiveté. You smiled sadly.

“I think you pretty much know that I don’t do that. I never do that” you said, tone brimming with confidence, “Remember, you once called me an unprofessional thug with anger issues? Well guess who’s exactly just that??” You added, “You’re not a reckless one, Clara. I know that. Don’t... let one bad client ruin your life, just don't”

Silence followed you soon after, sending you in to spirals of concern. Yet, it was evident you did your best. And waiting with bated breath seemed worthwhile, when Clara released finally Batman from her grasp. Falling on to the ground, you watched him gasp for air. As much as you longed to be there by his side, you merely kept standing, resolute in protecting his identity and your relationship with him. You stood as if he meant very little for you. Painful as it was, it had to be done. Yet, it did not stop you from smiling with relief.

“Here you are, getting away from death once again” you heard Clara say, as you found her looking at you with a smug expression, “Wait!” She paused, her smile disappearing, “ If I shot you…” she said, pointing at you, “…then…why aren’t you bleeding?”

Standing up slowly, you pulled up your t-shirt, revealing the black bulletproof vest, with the bullet still intact. Mouth slightly parted, Clara certainly appeared surprised. Upon seeing her reaction, you were certainly relieved to have listened to Alfred Pennyworth’s careful instructions earlier. You were relieved you actually listened.

“Loyalty has its perks, you were right” You said with a smile. You sensed Bruce looking at you, pleased. And if Alfred was there, he would not hesitate to offer a prideful nod.

Clara chuckled, before walking towards the now-groaning Emilio. And truthfully, you did not mind.Bad blood was never a necessity between the two of you. Regardless of all that happened, regardless of her attempts to wipe your existence off the face of the earth, your eyes could never put in a pair angry glasses when it came to Clara. Hurt you were, truly. But never wrath. And you were relieved. For you could empathize, for you respected her for who she truly was: a woman who took her job very seriously. Picking Emilio up, she looked over to you: “Everything aside…” she began, “I meant what I said...” she said, “...it has been an honor knowing you. But...it’s up to you to believe me” she added whilst shrugging. All you could do was to nod. For it seemed the most appropriate. And with a sudden cloud of smoke bursting before you, she and Emilio disappeared.

“Bruce!” You breathed worriedly, dashing towards Batman helping him slowly get back up. For finally, you were free to feel relieved for him. Breathing deeply, he looked you straight in the eyes through his cowl: “Are-Are you oka-”

He was cut off, as you decided to kiss him with utmost passion.

This kiss, it encompassed relief. Relief to find him alive and out of death’s reach. It encompassed of your guilt, of your inability to assist him sooner. And by his enthusiasm kissing you back, a rush of excitement coursed through you. Especially when you came to the realization you not just kissing Bruce Wayne, you were also kissing Batman. And that was not a common occurrence. Shrieking Police sirens from downstairs pulled both of you away. Given the sounds coming from inside the building, you knew there would be police company.

“Go...” You said to him, “...it’s okay” “You sure?” He inquired deeply, to which You nodded. “Absolutely...I can handle it” And you certainly were confident about it.

The roar of thunder surprised you, signaling the hasty arrival of cold showers, descending from the dark clouds that now had completely taken over the skies. Looking up, you smiled as the continuous drops refreshed your face.

“Well, whaddaya know?” you began, as you turned to look back at him “…it’s-” Only to find he had disappeared, “….raining”.

Amused once again by his signature move, You smiled to yourself, “So cool…” you muttered, looking over your shoulder the moment the rooftop door suddenly flew open, as a group of policemen finally swarmed out with John Blake’s familiar face leading them.

Though the clear skies were serene, the clouds truthfully seemed to have actually brought rains of hope in disguise. For finally, all was well for you. With an non washable smile on your face, you indulged in the rain for as long as adulthood permitted you to.

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

Gotham city, yet again declared its intention to never rest, and the Gotham Police was clear proof. But as you sat across John Blake’s desk, you were certain of the fact at least your heart could rest easy tonight. And you were grateful.

“Thanks for this by the way…” you said, gently pulling the neckline of the gray hoodie you had on. The rains of hope were refreshing, yet you were drenched by the end. Thus, the gray hoodie that was lent to you was a life savor.

“Oh, Officer Langdon had a spare one so..”

Blake replied casually, before looking over at Nina Langdon. You also looked over at her with surprise. Working on her police reports with diligence, she was the epitome of bad-assery in your eyes.

“You’re welcome” eyes meeting yours, Nina said coolly with a smile. Relieved, an inaudible “Thank You” escaped your lips as your head slightly bowed involuntarily. Nodding back, her eyes quickly move towards Blake’s, her smile growing larger. And you were immediately reminded of the visit from last time.

“I know…” You began softly, forcing Blake to look back at you, “…it’s not my place but…” you added, as he leaned forward with concern “I’ve been tracking some serious sparks between the two of you since my first time here…” you stated. And to your relief, Blake chuckled, making John chuckle, “…please tell me something’s going on-”

“Oh yeah there is…” John said, “…for sure” He confirmed with a nod.

“AHA!” You snapped your fingers victoriously, “So I DO have the sense. Thank goodness” you laughed alongside him. As the laughter subsided, you took a deep breath: “You were the real hero today, Officer…” you uttered, crossing your legs, “…I mean, if it weren’t for the recording…” you breathed in, “…it would have been one hell of a bloody evening…”

“Yeah…but …" he began, “I don’t know if I can use this against Henderson” a downcast expression clouded his face. Your eyebrows furrowed as you suppressed a sudden yawn.

“What do you mean?”

“You kidding right? An Officer recording a conversation through eavesdropping?” His eyes questioned your sanity, “ Wouldn’t exactly go well with our case…”

��Oh yeah…” a trace of enthusiasm left your system as you nodded. How naive you were to even assume this would be child’s play, “…and I bet the CCTV cameras had something to catch” you muttered, slowly coming to the disappointing realization. You may have escaped death. But the root of all danger, the man with the power and the riches, would be left unaffected. As if nothing significant occurred.

“I’m sorry this was a dead end,Ma’am” Blake said sadly. The vibration of your phone urged you to look down, seeing the text brought a smile. A comforting smile. “Not entirely” you replied, looking back at him, “I mean, We know who planned it all, right?And the assassin will have no business with me anymore..so…” you paused, “…not all hope is lost” Smiling warmly, you slowly got up, “You saved many lives today, that counts. Thank you...for everything, Officer Blake”

Officer Langdon stood next to Blake, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Looking at her hand, he turned back to you with a smile full of content. Fortunate you were truly to be arrested by him that fateful evening. Fortunate you were to have him believe in you. You were truly fortunate.

Standing by the entrance of the precinct, you breathed in deep. A smile was inevitable the moment your eyes caught the sight before you. Dressed in a fine suit as always, Bruce Wayne leaned against his Black Lamborghini as he waited for you late at night. With the streets almost empty at that hour, you were truthfully quite relieved to find him there. And admittedly, the sight of him instantly grabbed you by the hand, leading you to the very first morning when he showed up this way.

“You clean up pretty good, Mr. Wayne” You jested, slowly walking towards him. He smiled: “Part of the job, I guess” he responded which drove you to a chuckle, “Let’s go home”

A faint camera shutter sound intruded your ears, capturing your attention. Looking to your left, you spotted a young, scrawny looking man shyly scurrying away with a camera phone in hand. What photo did he take? A part of you longed to know, however the other greater part did not seem to care, for you truly were not in the shape to mind at all.

Getting in to the vehicle, memories that still seemed fresh revisited you. That first conversation, getting your hand treated, accidentally having your poor heart stirred. Leaning against the passenger seat, a luxurious sense of comfort brought out another yawn from you.

“I gotta say…” Bruce began, starting the engine, “The vest, I really did not see that coming”

“Hmmmm” you hummed, occupied in the comfort with your eyes closed. “But really, that was very clever of Alfr-”

His words were faint, growing even softer. For you were a willing victim to the exhaustion , which was effortlessly brought out by the comfort of an expensive leather car seat.

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

Erik Henderson was impatient, and it certainly showed. With his silk robes moving around, he paced from one corner of his bedroom to the other with speed. For along with impatience came disappointment.

“Is the girl here yet?? Where the fuck are they?”

He snarled loudly, when he sat on one of armchair. As for the Bruiser, he was promised the deed would be done tonight, with the result presented tomorrow morning. But until then, it did not hurt for him to engage in some early celebrations. Preferably with the company of his usual lineup of high end call girls. However, they were late.

Along with his ill temper and lack of appreciation to his wife, infidelity was high on the list. And tonight, his body was ready with much enthusiasm. He was ready to feel like a man. Ready to indulge in the sight of the women pleasure one another, only to pleasure him soon after. Still, they were late.

“Apologies! Mr. Henderson”

His eyes to shot up by the sound of a brunette woman. She stood by entrance of his room wearing a trench and beige heels, her full lips and big eyes growing distinctive as she began to walk towards him. Henderson raised his eyebrows:

“Wait a minute!” He said, as she approached him, “You’re not the girl I asked for ...” he said, rising from the chair angrily, “Why aren’t you answering me, you bitc-ARGH!”

Henderson cried out loud, when he realized the woman grabbed him by the arm, only to twist it effortlessly, switching to grip his neck tightly before she stabbed his stomach with a small knife. With his defenses weakened and knife still in stomach, he was lowered back to his chair. However, her hand did not leave his neck.

“Wh-” Henderson began breathlessly, “Who the fuck are you?” He inquired.

“Perhaps this...might jog your memory” the woman said, as she proceeded to wear a black mask, that shaped like a skull. Eyes widened, Henderson just could not fathom what he just witnessed.

“Alpha!?” He breathed. “Indeed, I am…” Clara replied, now in that familiar robotic voice. “You’re…” he stuttered, “…you’re a wo-”

“Ugh!” She shook her head,“Save me the sexist bullshit” she added annoyingly, whilst taking off the mask,“Looks like you were never gonna pay for our services, huh?” She inquired, “And I bet ...” she said, her free hand going through his chair while the knife was still intact, “….you have an alarm for the police to show up, hmmm?” She raised her eyebrows, finally discovering his mobile phone, “Heh! Just what I thought...” She remarked with a chuckle. So the Bruiser was right all along.

Speechless and injured, Henderson only could hyperventilate weakly. Clara smiled at him coldly. Funny how the tables have been turned. Funny how the man once was powerful now reeked of sheer desperation.

“I knew You’ve always been bad, Mr.Henderson” she began, “…but THIS? This disrespect? is just unforgivable. So…here’s what we’re gonna do…” She added, menace evident in her tone while she twisted the knife harder into his stomach, that sent him screaming, “You and I…we are gonna take a little trip… out of Gotham”

Fear translated in to Henderson’s quivering lips, “For-For h-how long?”

“Oh….” Ready to show her true colors, Clara Bennett flashed an evil grin, “…indefinitely”

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

The blue hour greeted your fluttering eyes gently the next morning. Stretching lazily, you felt your presence on a bed. It seemed the car seat was full of comfort it sent you to the deepest slumber. The blue hour appeared more graceful at the Wayne Penthouse. It was indeed quite the beauty. But the beauty was intensified the moment your eyes glimpsed upon the man laying beside you.The man who gazed long enough for you to smile shyly.

“I dozed off last night huh?” You inquired, your tone rife with sleepiness.

He nodded gently. Pressing your face against the pillow, embarrassment took control. The thought of Bruce Wayne carrying your sleeping figure all the way to bed was more than you could imagine. What if you snored? What if you drooled? Oh! The horror!

“I’m sorry...” you mumbled, looking at him. However, he shook his head.

“Don’t need to...” he replied, his breathy tone sending shivers down your spine. You raised your eyebrows: “Shouldn’t you should be sleeping?” you inquired playfully, whilst laying on your side.

“Don’t want to...” He said, moving closer to you.

His tone may have been gentle, yet it did not mean he was not confident about it. And the moment you felt his lips press against yours, that confidence suddenly had more reason. Kissing him back, you indulged it as you would indulge your morning coffee. Even better. His kiss at dawn was a gentle fire, that was lit to spread warmth around a once cold and lifeless room, to give it the life it once had. His kiss was also a reminder of what you needed. A need that was urgent. Pulling away gently, you glanced upon the surprised expression in his face. You could empathize why, and you were surely were not planning to disappoint.

Maintaining his gaze, you dipped your hands under the white sheets, stripping yourself off your sweatpants and underwear as fast as you could. He was certainly fascinated as you tossed the sheet aside, only to slowly straddle him, wearing nothing but the gray hoodie. A faint gasp left you when your naked mound made subtle contact with his shorts. It caused friction. More importantly, it caused sheer arousal that stimulated the entirety of your senses. Seeing him so calm beneath you, it certainly was a pleasurable sight. Balancing yourself over the mattress with one hand, you were surprised at how you managed to pull down his shorts with ease, receiving his full cooperation to remove it completely. You were calm, yet daring this morning.

The sight of Bruce draw in his shaky breath as you slowly sank into his abundantly erect manhood caused weakness in your knees. However, you had to be strong. Your damp opening welcomed him whole, as you finally sat with comfort. Finally becoming one, you stretched yourself, pulling your hoodie off, leaving you completely bare. With your hands resting on his bare chest, you permitted the gentle blue morning filter wash over you when you began to roll your hips in slow rhythm. For you were a lazy rider, mounted on a horse who took you home with relaxation. For you were both relaxed, for you were both calm. This morning, it need not be a passionate race that needed a speedy finish. It was merely just two lovers on a slow journey, intimate and brimming with emotion.

Amidst the breathy moans exchanged between the two, Your eyes conversed with his. You told him how indebted you were to him in every way. You stressed how you wished every second with him was longer than the others. You apologized for every single moment you hurt him without your knowledge. He acknowledged them all, surprising you as he sat up in a flash. Wrapping his arms around your waist, his fingers explored your bare back, feeling its curves before he proceeded to envelope his lips in yours in a slow, yet passion inducing kiss. He kissed you with a mission. As if he longed to fulfill your wish, as if he was on a fierce attempt to slow down time. The manner his tongue embraced your own, certainly was a display of how this pleasure was to be indulged in the slowest, possible manner.

And it certainly meant taking one’s sweet time.

Distracted with his kisses, you were even unaware of his right hand roaming over to cup your left breast. In the midst of the morning chill, he warmed it with his generous palm, his thumb gently running over the now erect bud. The fact he savored this act slow, roused you even further. Shivering moans exited your lips the moment his delicious mouth replaced his thumb, latching on to it. The manner of which he suckled it, the manner he tasted it with passion, provided a new form of life within you. Kissing his head frantically, you continued to moan. You adored this man, you could not deny it. In fact, you could burst into tears by the thought of it. With his lips now placing gracious kisses around the softness of your breast, sparks of fire began to spread. Your fingers traced over the strangle marks on his neck, causing your lips to quiver with emotion.

Kissing his neck with determination, you hoped you would not inflict more pain upon him ever again. He heard your hopes, as his own lips frantically looked for yours to kiss you once again. Surprise was clearly the main role this morning. Your eyes widened the moment he quickly turned, flipping you back to bed, hovering over you.

Holding on the headboard, Bruce continued to move inside of you, frustratingly slow. His soft breathy moans blessed your ears, while his finger felt your sensitive nub at your opening, providing ample stimulation to throw your head back and feel the headboard behind you. He breathed in your name religiously, urging you to look at him. He spoke to you in hushed tones. He swore to protect you always, no matter what may come his way. He swore with such passion and desperation.

You believed him, with all your heart you longed to. However, you were also realistic. This was all on the brink of passion. For truthfully, Life never was always kind to everyone who walked this earth. Exceptions would always exist, even where he could not show up. And you did not take them to heart. Not one bit. For you knew better. As he buried his face on your neck, adorning it with kisses, that was when you decided, deep in your heart, to make your own promise.

Blinded by passion or not, you swore. Your swore to be at your best, and keep yourself safe. And whatever trouble may announce its arrival, he would never blamed for it. Never ever. For he was no god. He was only a man. And he was yours.

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

Hues of yellow infused with the blue as the sunlight secretly crept into the penthouse. It brought more color. But nothing could replace the magic of the blue hour, and you were grateful to have made great use of it this morning. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you slowly put the pants back on, whilst the gentle yellow light grazed over your naked torso. Bruce’s hand stroked your shoulder blades, surprising you even further when you felt his blessed lips on the lower back. Biting your lip shyly, you proceeded to dress yourself with the gray hoodie once more. But in fact, butterflies still managed to flutter within you. If only words existed for you to describe the effect this man had on you, they would be used fervently. But since there were none, you knew you would fail to do him justice. The value you held for him was beyond all measure. And that was why you were reminded of what you longed to tell him before:

“Bruce?”

“Hmmm?”

Lazy hums escaped Bruce when you turned to his reclined figure in bed. Sitting crossed legged, nervousness washed all over. You wished for a distraction. You wished to remain in his arms a bit longer. But this was mandatory, thus a deep breath was a necessity:

“I got a job offer...from Hudson’s”

You said. Surprised, Bruce slowly sat up.

“The HR company?”

To which you nodded slowly, “Yeah…And I think…” you paused, “I think I’m gonna take it”

You watched him slowly process the information he just received. It was evident with his concerned expression. “You’re… leaving Wayne Enterprises?”

He breathed in inquiry. You froze. For that sentence simply forced your heart to clench tightly. And the fact those words exited his lips in an innocent manner, made it truly worse. Nostalgia hit you violently in the head. After an entire decade of devoting one’s life to this company, it would seem unthinkable. Yet, decisions such as these were not for the faint hearted. And you certainly were not one.

“Yes I am…” you admitted, “But not right away…” you quickly added, moving closer to him, “…I still have a lot to do, like cover for Lillian during her leave, and If I am leaving, I’m gonna have to train whoever will be taking my place…I just…” you paused, “I just wanted to let you know…before I accept it”

Your clenched heart remained so, as silence filled the room. His doe-eyed expression was clear as day, taking in the news: “So…” he began, staring at you, “…It’s finally happening, huh?” He muttered.

Exhaling deep, you smiled softly: “I’ve been holding onto this company for so long cause of loyalty...that I didn’t even think of my own career…” you said, “But…after I met you, everything is starting to make sense, everything I need to do is coming to me” you continued, “So, If I leave… I can finally do what I’m really good at”

There was no mirror, yet you could feel your own eyes sparkle with excitement by the mere thought of it. You could imagine it already, walking over to Lucius Fox, handing in your notice of resignation. And you could certainly imagine his response as he would smile with a nod: “I understand” He would say, with a silent exchange of understanding for it was clear you were doing the right thing. You could imagine it all. Blinking that future away, you looked at Bruce:

“And if I leave…” you said, “I don’t have to question my liberties anymore, especially when I think about us...” you paused, breathing deeply, “If that’s what you really want. Cause…” you added as you bravely cupped his face, “…that’s what I want”

When silence overpowered the atmosphere, you grew concerned. But before you could make your way down that path, Bruce expressed his opinion by leaning forward with a loving kiss. A loving kiss that encompassed everything: His acknowledgement, his excitement, and even a taste of sadness.

“Well...” he breathed into your lips, “As much as I’m going to miss seeing you at office-” You chuckled, “You rarely get to see me unless you come by-” Chuckling back, he nodded, “Point made”. Concerned, you looked directly at him. “You upset?” You inquired, to which he immediately shook his head. “Actually…” he smiled, “I’m proud of you. The way you truly want to go far for what you really need, you inspire me. You give me hope” he added, “And yes! I do want this” holding both of your hands, he stressed, “So it’s definitely worth it” You gulped, as you realized that your heart had more to reveal that expected. Especially when you saw him show this much of enthusiasm. With a heartbeat strong enough to penetrate through your entire being, you began: “Bruce…” you paused, “That day when you bailed me out, I got a Life Sentence”

Suddenly, that smile of his disappeared with concern. To which you could only smile wider with amusement.

“I got a Life Sentence, because you stole my heart” you added, “And that’s a Sentence I was willing to take on. That’s a Sentence I could never get over.” You said, “I know, there will be a day…where you and I can walk hand in hand in public, with nothing to fear. We won’t have to worry about our reputation or our safety. I know that day will come soon” you continued, hope filled in your tone, “ But until then, I’m willing to do anything. I’m willing to be quiet, I’m willing to pretend, I’m willing to let the whole world believe I’m minding my own business, when I’m actually happily minding my own business…with you” holding his hands tightly, you spoke with adoration, “Cause given the current circumstances, I am not gonna give a shit about what everyone is gonna think, or about showing off. I just wanna be happy. And being by your side is one important factor of it. That’s it…” you took a deeper breath, “I love you, Bruce” you spoke in an emotional tone, “And the more time passes, I think I find it harder to deny that…”

Letting it all out, never did anything feel this taxing on you. Especially as you kept looking into his beautiful eyes that were a journey in itself to embark on.

“I wish you know…” Bruce began, “…how it frightens me to make promises” he said softly. The pain in his voice was evident. The pain he seemingly had held in all these years. You nodded fast.

“I know, i know…” you admitted in honesty, “Being in your…position, I don’t blame you. Not one bit. You don’t have to say anything, Bruce” you said for you truly meant it.

“But…” he began, holding your hands once more, “You will know in time...you will know how much I love you. Cause I do”

Jaw dropped, suddenly your clenched heart loosened up completely. His face formed a puzzled expression. “What?” “You just said it...” You said, chuckling when he finally came to the realization of what he just admitted. Euphoria, rushed though you as you covered your mouth with emotion. For ever since the day you fell for him, those words were what you always dreamed of hearing.

“Wow! You love me...” you voice broke, as tears formed within you, “…you do love m-” mumbled last words did not seem to matter when Bruce pulled you in for another gentle kiss. He loved you. Bruce Wayne he loved you. Unfathomable yet real. Immersed in his arms in an embrace, you rubbed his back with love.

“Don’t worry…” you assured, “I know what I’m getting into. And I’ll be here…” you paused, “…for a while. Okay…maybe even longer than that” you jested, as he began to laugh out loud. The sight of his laughter was what you cherished. And what you hoped to provide for him as long as you could.

You fixed your hair hurried upon seeing Alfred Pennyworth enter the room with morning tea. The fact he found you in bed with Bruce made you embarrassed.

“Sorry Alfred...” you muttered shyly. Alfred however, never looked this pleased. “Never apologize for putting a smile on Master Wayne’s face, Miss” He said, as he placed the tray on the bedside cupboard “And mine...”

A trickle of warmth engulfed your heart, to the point you felt your nose itch with the urge to cry once again. Scrunching up your nose, you smiled. Blessed it was truly to be this loved.

“Apparently,Henderson is missing”

“WHAT?” You and Bruce both inquired, looking at Alfred.

“That’s what it says in the papers” He responded, waving the newspaper in his hand.

Was it Clara’s doing? Was it her way of acquiring revenge? You could not help but wonder as Alfred began to read the mentioned article to Bruce. And then again, how ironic. Erik Henderson strongly wished for you to disappear, yet ended up disappearing himself.

The bedside cupboard beside you vibrated. Taking the phone, you found a text from Allison:

lol…did you see this?

Below the text was a link attached. A link that directed you to an article at a familiar website: wheresdabat.com

Your eyes widened by the sight of the photo that was above the article. A photo that showed you standing outside the Police Station with Bruce from last night. The article was written as the following:

Just when we were filled with hope of a possible spark between Batman and the Bruiser, we run into another hurdle. For here we can see the Bruiser’s employer, Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne arrived to her legal rescue once again last night. What could it be? A Love Triangle perhaps? Or are we just kidding ourselves completely??

Amused laughter erupted from your throat, causing Bruce and Alfred to look at you.

“Everything okay?” Bruce inquired.

“Yeah, its just...” you smiled, “It looks like the name Bruiser is gonna stick around for a while” you said, showing them the website article.

“Well…” Bruce began, “… it does have a ring to it” he added with a smile.

“You know what?” You looked at them, “ I like it” You chuckled, “ I used to hate that name, so so much. But not anymore. Guess it’s my own alias now.” you said jokingly.

It was evident it would be a scar you would have to wear for a while. But in truth, it was a scar you would gladly wear. For that scar, it bailed you out, it brought you the liberation you desired, and it led you to love. Thus, you were not remorseful at all. No wonder you like it so.

Excitement bubbling within you in great speed, you began to form a text reply to your friend:

Fuck!

You sent in an instant.

FUCK!!!

It certainly did not take long for Allison to respond: 

Oh no ...what is it, Sweetie? I’m sorry but I thought it was just hilarious...

Chuckling, you texted back:

No it’s not that. Ali, I think...

Over excitement led to accidentally hitting ‘send’ before you could finish typing.

What ? What is it? You’re freaking me out here…

Smiling upon seeing Allison’s reply, you looked up. Never did you imagine the sight of Bruce and Alfred causally having their morning tea would bring you such joy. With your smile still intact, you replied with the most happiness and the utmost confidence:  

I think it’s officially official with me and Bruce Wayne!!! 

——————THE END—————————

Another Author’s Note: Thank You for all you lovely people who decided to join me in this journey on Bail Out! When I took a break and started planning this story, I never thought I would receive this much love. Truthfully this is one of the favorites I have written and with the most effort and hard work. So your love meant so so much! My heart is literally heavy now. You are all awesome! Love you all! Keep being awesome!

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simshousewindsor · 3 years

Text

WE SHOULD THINK ABOUT REPLACEMENTS

[Buckingsim Palace, Kings Private Quarters, 12:07 PM WST]

Queen Rowena: Kate just called and said to turn on the news. I see you already have it on, Queen Mother.

Queen Zarah: Yes. Princess Niema just went to her room.

Queen Rowena: She wasn't feeling well this morning. I should check on her later.

Queen Zarah: They’ve caught the suspect!

King George: I should go to the hospital!

Queen Zarah: For what? That is the stupidest thing you could do right now. You would only be a distraction. Sit down!

King George: I can't sit down, mother. I need to find out what happened!

Queen Zarah: The police haven't event figured that out yet.

King George: I should summon Elisha. The palace should prepare a statement.

Queen Zarah: I never liked Lord Samuel anyway. I’m sure there is more to this story.

Queen Rowena: I liked him. This is a terrible tragedy! I hope he survives!

King George: With such a busy week of royal engagements, I can't be without him. I know that’s selfish at a time like this. Mother, do you think Alfred would...

Queen Zarah: Alfred would what? Want to be your Private Secretary? Oh, George! Alfred would do anything for you but he has moved on from those responsibilities. He loved working for your father and he was exceptional but the role almost killed him! I’m sure he would help you find a great candidate.

[Buckingsim Palace, Press Briefing Room, 2:12 PM WST]

Elisha Morris: I have already drafted a statement from the palace, Your Majesty.

Alfred Pennyworth: My connections at the MPD said the suspect is the husband of the female Lord Samuel was having brunch with.

King George: Was he sleeping with that woman?

Alfred: It appears so, Your Majesty.

King George: We should think about replacements. Alfred, I know you are Head Butler and Estate Manager but as the Private Secretary to my father, I value your input. Would you assist in finding a replacement. We have to assume Lord Samuel will be out indefinitely.

Alfred: Ofcourse, Your Majesty. I will work with your staff to start searching.

Elisha: I’ve emailed you the palace statement, Your Majesty. We will release it to the press at 3:00 PM and I will take care of the press briefing at 3:15.

King George: I will review and approve the statement now. Thank you for handling the press briefing. As Palace Spokesperson, you should manage all press briefings going forward.

Elisha: Yes, Your Majesty. There should be minimal blow-back on the palace. We should brief you on talking points for the week. You have a few events where the media will be bound to ask you questions. We should be prepared.

King George: I won't be speaking to the press this week. If there are engagements that require that, let them know I will only be posing for photos. I know this is not your job but could you have Alfred summon Princess Katherine? I’d like her to be involved in the palace’s management of this crisis.

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

With a Heart of Scars Ch. 6

Hey guys! I am here with the next chapter of With a Heart of Scars! It’s back to Damian’s pov here while he tries to figure out comms, if he’s fitting in right, and ask again, just what’s expected of him.

AO3 Link

Damian was delighted he’d been finally given something to do. He was not going to admit that out loud, nor was he planning on smiling at all tonight. It was a mission after all. He had been tasked with accompanying Pennyworth and learning the ins and outs of running the comms so that he could take over on night’s when the man needed a break.

It sent a thrill through him as he took the offered chair next to Pennyworth at the Batcomputer. Damian was not normally allowed to use the computer, nor do much to assist with patrols. At first, Damian had believed it was because they did not trust him. Grayson had explained that the system was complicated, and had made it clear to Damian that mistakes might cost lives, and so he had reluctantly agreed to wait. Now that he was being given permission, his stomach fluttered with those same warnings.

The chair was soft but not so plush one might fall asleep sitting in it too long. It was just the sort of comfortable that helped keep someone from being distracted by aches and pains from hours sitting there paying close attention. And close attention was exactly what was required of Damian if he were to watch Grayson’s back as he was out working in Gotham.

“Tonight I will run everything and talk you through the steps.” Pennyworth explained, “We will do the same for the next week. After that you’ll be in my seat and at the controls. I will be here to assist you the rest of the week, then after we will take shifts. Does that sound acceptable to you, Master Damian?”

He nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly, but Damian’s heart was racing. He was being allowed to learn. To help. To do something, anything that wasn’t constant training, Pennyworth’s accursed lessons, or skulking around.

It felt good. Even though Damian didn’t get to hit any buttons nor comment to Grayson beyond a hello, he felt like he was finally accomplishing something. It set a warm feeling in his stomach that didn’t leave the whole night. Even when Batman got in a spot of trouble and had to be bailed out by Batgirl and Spoiler, the worry was soon replaced by that wonderful feeling of being needed.

Damian was in such a good mood that when Grayson returned and insisted on giving him a hug as congratulations for making it through a first night on the comms, he allowed it with little grumbling.

He tried not to think about how that hug felt much like the warm, soft feeling in his chest he’d had all night.

The next two nights went much the same, though Damian grew more and more impatient to physically be at the controls and to make full use of the knowledge that Pennyworth was imparting on him.

He expressed this impatience once, on the third day, “I do not see the point in watching for a week. Clicking buttons to check maps is hardly challenging.”

“It has been a calm few nights.” Pennyworth explained, “However, there is nothing simple about this job when Riddler is on the loose, or when Batman is working on a larger case. Even without those situations, to consider this ‘simple’ is to risk his life. He relies on our information, backup, and eyes on information he cannot easily pull up. If you see this as a lax job then I am not sure I can trust you to take over.”

“No!” Damian all but yelled, “No, that is not what I meant. It is an important duty, and I take it seriously.”

There was something unreadable in Pennyworth’s eye at that. “Then prove it, take this portion of the training seriously so that I know I can trust you when our positions are swapped.”

Damian did not complain again after that. He wanted to, especially as the week grew to a close and his hands itched to type out a command or practice information that had been drilled into him. But, he did not speak up; he would not lose this one opportunity to foolish impatience. He had waited far longer for far more important events.

When at last it was Damian in the command seat and Alfred waiting patiently next to him, Damian thought he was going to be excited. Instead, his chest buzzed with nervousness. There was a stark difference in sitting next to someone as they worked, and being the one to actually do things himself.

It was silly to feel nervous. Damian had trained for a week, and this was by no means the first time he’d touched the computer. Pennyworth had made him come early a number of nights to run him through tests and once or twice allowed him to suggest a course of action. Beyond that, he was an Al Ghul. Failure was not an option, certainly not when he was directing Batman’s actions for the night.

He glanced at the screen to watch the footage coming from Grayson’s cowl, then to another window indicating his vitals. Everything looked normal, even as Damian checked and checked again, anxiety twisting in his chest.

He could not help but wonder if this was all a test. What if they were tricking him? Trying to see if Damian would purposefully let Grayson fail? It was a lot of work to put into such a test, but not unheard of. Damian had often found himself in the middle of similar situations set by his Grandfather.

Then, the rules had often changed halfway through. He wondered if this were the same. Would things change? Was Pennyworth not here to continue instructing, but to strip him of this opportunity at the first sign of his inability to recall everything correctly? At an incorrect decision he made? Were they waiting for him to turn on them?

Nothing indicated any of this, but Damian knew better. Damian had been trained to know better. His fingers hesitated over the keyboard, as nerves seemed to strip them of their strength.

Up until this point, little had been expected of Damian --a frustrating thing on its own-- and this was the first real task anyone had for him. Was this all some test designed to see if he was worth keeping around? A test of his loyalty?

He shook the thoughts away. There was little point in lingering on them, no matter how this turned out, he had a job to do.

Grayson was not having a good night, and so Damian must focus on that instead of his own doubts.

The streets were busy, the Birds had their own problems to deal with, and even Damian could tell Batman was tired. He had hoped that Drake returning for a few days last week --only to already be gone again-- and Grayson taking the weekend off would have recharged him but he could hear the stress in the man’s voice.

Then he picked up some chatter about a “really weird statue” in the college district that was also described as “incredibly creepy” and “giving chills”. It was strange enough Damian felt inclined to check it out, just to make sure it was not some trap being set up by one of Gotham’s many costumed criminals.

He glanced at Pennyworth for permission even as he opened a new window to start a search for security cameras in the area covering the street listed. He hesitated to hit enter, and then Pennyworth nodded.

“If your instinct says to check it out, then by all means.”

It was not the sour, dismissive, kind of permission Damian would sometimes receive from tutors. This was genuine. Pennyworth seemed to truly approve and almost sounded proud. Though pride would be determined by Damian’s discovery, he was certain.

He found the street and quickly located the “strange, scary” sculpture. What he could see, lit by street lights and a light from a bookstore across the street was certainly odd, though he would not classify it as extremely creepy.

However, Brown had told him his sense of what could be considered creepy was skewed. Damian could not outright deny that fact even if he wanted to. There was no getting around the fact that once he had brought his grandfather a horned crown from some ancient ritual.

Still, this surely could not be considered too creepy. It was just large and odd. It was a towering, oddly shaped set of statues. They looked to perhaps be made of wood? And were shaped like people, bending over with legs spread strangely. He zoomed the camera in, still keeping his ears open in case Grayson needed him.

Two people, with hoods drawn up to conceal their faces, were lifting another piece of wood that looked a bit like an arm, to press it’s palm into the ground. Zoomed in, Damian could see a series of colorful dots littering the sidewalk.

He heard Pennyworth hmm curiously.

“What do you think it is?” Damian asked, glancing over at him.

“It looks to be a statue of people playing Twister.”

Damian frowned, “I am unfamiliar with that game.”

“Master Richard is quite good at it.” Pennyworth said, with the hint of a smile on his lips.

Damian nodded, it was obvious that whatever these people were doing seemed less dangerous than inconvenient. Problematic for anyone who could not duck between the lowered arms and legs, but nothing outright impossible to bypass.

Damian’s heart sunk as he realized this was probably nothing to worry about, at least nothing for Batman to be concerned with. Still, it might be good to warn Grayson and the Birds in case they ended up close by so they did not end up tripped up.

He screenshotted the cleanest version of the scene he could get, in case anyone wanted a visual, then shot off a message to Oracle.

“Batman, there is a large structure in the college district.” he said, into his radio, “If you cross it, be aware it’s difficult to go under.”

“That’s odd. Anything I should check out?”

“No,” Damian said, eyes flickering back over to the still open window, the figures seemed to have finished their task, “I simply did not think you wished to break your neck attempting to fly through it.”

He waited for Pennyworth to inform him that he had wasted time investigating the statue. He really needn't have bothered reporting it; no one who was out currently was scheduled to go by that area during the evening’s patrol. And so, it was of little real practical use to have looked at.

As soon as his image was saved, he closed out of the window and tried not to think about it. Still, doubt circled in his head. Had he made the right call? Or was Pennyworth waiting on Grayson’s return to announce his failure? Was this the end of his chance to help? Sure, the man had told him to go with his instincts, and had not seemed upset by the outcome, but Damian knew better.

Grandfather had once sat him and his mother down in front of two glasses filled with tea and told him to choose. One was poisoned, the other not. Grandfather had also told him to choose based on his instincts.

He had been given this test before with instructions to select the safe cup. Let the other participant die. It was obvious Grandfather wanted him to do the same, to let his instincts choose the one without poison. Damian knew which it was, he could smell the sharp scent through the spices in the tea easily. It was obvious.

At the same time, Damian knew the rules had changed. He could not let his mother die. Grandfather would not let his mother die. But Damian was also not supposed to take the poison.

In the end he had failed the test. He drank the poisoned cup.

To say Grandfather was disappointed would be putting it lightly. Damian had failed in choosing love. His wrist he’d used to lift the cup ached faintly at the memory, and he winced remembering the way Grandfather had so casually ordered it broken.

“Now, you will remember your lessons,” Grandfather had said.

Damian remembered, remembered the pain, the way he had been sick for days, and his mother’s disappointed look.

It was that memory which fueled the uncertainty in his chest. He did not think that kind of punishment waited for him here. Not for something as small as taking extra time to look over a possible danger. But he was not entirely sure what to expect. He did not wish to be a disappointment, but how could he choose correctly when no one had told him the rules?

No one had told him much of anything.

He had to work to keep his breathing even as the weight of not knowing hit him again. He had felt it often enough during training sessions, being dropped off at places with no explanation as to what he was to do. Being handed assignment sheets wordlessly only to have them snatched up after an undescribed period of time. It was to keep him thinking on his feet, always on guard, aware.

Damian hated it. It made him tight, tense, and tired.

He hated that he still felt that way.

Not that he could do much about it. If his father’s family had expectations for him, well he would learn them soon enough. Grayson could not simply wish he “be a normal boy”. It was a foolhardy idea, and one the man did not seem interested in following through on. So far, Damian rarely saw him outside of meals and training.

Brown and Todd were different. Damian did not know what to make of them. Of the unrelenting nature of Brown’s attempts to rope him into idiodic activities like bike riding and watching cartoons. Or Todd pushing books onto him and dragging him to the library for ‘cultural education’ in the form of reading fiction.

At least they seemed to be attempting Grayson’s promise. Still. It was probably a trap. An attack on multiple sides to get him to lower his guard and then--well Damian was unsure what their plan was. And that was the problem wasn’t it?

He shook off his worries as best as he could, and set his focus to not making any more mistakes.

When Grayson returned from patrol and praised his handling of the comms Damian was certain he had made the right decision, and no one was upset with him. He only wished he could take that confidence into the rest of his life.

Damian’s nights running comms continued to get better over the week. Though, he found himself more and more exhausted as the week continued. He had grown weak in his time with the family, prior to this he’d been sleeping more here than he had ever. And the lack of it, after two weeks of surveillance, was catching up to him.

He took to doodling to keep himself awake, not really caring that Pennyworth saw the scribbles. It was not full-on art, and it kept his mind busy on slower nights. The ones Drake returned for were especially boring, with Batman needing them little as he had a partner.

Currently Damian did not have to worry about Drake. The boy was off with his Titans friends, called away from both Grayson’s side and his own search for Father by an emergency with them.

Drake’s willingness to up and leave Batman dug at Damian. Could he not see that Grayson needed him? That the man was far more exhausted than he let on, that Gotham was a harsher mistress than Nightwing’s ‘Bludhaven’? It was a foolish time to be so lax in one’s duties, and yet Drake was gone more than he was around.

Damian brushed off those thoughts, it wouldn’t do to linger on irritations he could do little about. No, the best thing to do was prove his own worth by showing Grayson he could be the partner that would not fail him.

He cast his eyes up and down from screen to sticky note as he doodled and kept an eye on Grayson’s cowl footage, currently in the middle of a stakeout.

A yawn built up at the back of his throat, and Damian tried to swallow it down. Instead it came out loud and somewhat obnoxious. He dropped his pencil to slap his hand over his mouth. When the accursed yawn was over, he turned to look at Pennyworth.

The two weeks Damian had spent with the butler had taught him much about Pennyworth. He was clever and witty and delightful to be around. He was far more patient than Damian deserved, and yet more fearsome than any of Damian’s tutors had been.

Right now, he seemed to be reading Damian like a book.

“I will make us both some ceylon,” he declared, standing. “It will do good to stretch my legs.”

Damian nodded. “I would appreciate that.”

He did his best to stay awake, doodling a picture of the docks Grayson was observing, adding tiny boats and a little jutting pier. Bored and tired, Damian paused to rest his chin on his arms, that was all it took. His eyelids fluttered closed and he was out.

Someone clearing their throat woke him. Damian sat up with a start, the pencil once gripped loosely now held tight as he spun, ready to defend himself from---

“Pennyworth.” Damian said, heat already beginning to flood into his cheeks.

“Guys? Anyone got that traffic update for me?” Grayson’s voice came crackling over the radio. He sounded like he was moving.

Damian scrambled to respond. “The street again, Batman?”

“Bernard and Second.”

Through the white noise filling his head, Damian’s fingers flew over the keyboard to fulfil Batman’s request. “Clear,” he said, voice clipped.

“Thanks!” There was the sound of air moving quickly, like he’d jumped from something. A glance at the cam footage confirmed it, with the ground quickly rising to meet Batman before his grapple line went taut and he was swinging.

Damian sat frozen then, fear making his heart beat rabbit-quick against his chest. He had fallen asleep. Failed in the worst of ways. It was as if he’d gotten up and simply left Grayson. The man could have died because he had allowed himself to fall prey to something so stupid as sleep.

“I would guess you were only out for a few minutes. The tea hardly took long at all,” Pennyworth said, taking his seat and lowering the tray he’d brought in.

Damian hadn’t even noticed it when he’d woken. Like it had been invisible. Another failure.

Pennyworth set a cup of tea before Damian and placed his own on the table before setting the tray aside.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of.” Pennyworth said, “I was here, and it was not an emergency.”

An answer felt stuck in Damian’s throat. He reached out for his tea and tapped the side of the cup, his wrist aching.

“Master Damian, look at me.”

Damian turned his gaze slowly to the man beside him, and waited.

Pennyworth did not look angry or disapproving. But that did not stop Damian from fretting. His wrist positively ached, and his stomach turned a bit thinking of the tea. This mistake was far worse than spending time on investigating a mystery.

“Do not worry on it, it is all part of learning.”

All he could do was nod, a single, sharp movement.

Pennyworth returned to his seat, and sipped on his tea, “If it helps, it has happened to us all before.” he added, “When it is important, you will be awake. Adrenaline does have a way of keeping one awake.”

Damian did, of course, worry on it. Shame and guilt pooled in his stomach. All he could think of for the rest of the night was his mistake. The fact that he had fallen asleep doing the one and only thing he’d been asked to do since he’d arrived here. It did not matter that he was not the only one to have done it, or that in an emergency situation things would be different.

By the time Grayson returned, Damian felt so tightly wound with anticipation --what was going to happen, would he be punished? Removed from his position? Never allowed out to patrol?-- he had no idea what to expect.

The man looked tired, Damian could read that easily on Grayson’s face as he pulled the cowl back, and unclasped the cape from his shoulders. When he saw Damian, he gave him a worn smile.

“Good job tonight,” he said.

Damian stiffened, “What?”

Grayson blinked at him, “I mean, you did a good job.” He turned his gaze on Pennyworth, who nodded in agreement.

“Master Damian did quite well. I only had to prompt his attention once.”

His heart started to race at that, and Damian had to work to keep his face neutral. Pennyworth had so casually exposed his moment of weakness, and now Grayson knew. Grayson knew, and Damian did not know how the man would respond.

“Prompting hmm? I used to be prompted by Alfred all the time, you’ll get used to it.” Grayson’s smile returned at this.

It was too much. The utter lack of...anything. Too much paired with all the unknowing and the uncertainty and the--everything. Every emotion Damian had tried to bury and shove away burst forward, like he had seen blood do when a blade drove through a body. Flowing and unstoppable, and in a flood far heavier than one expected.

“I do not know what you are playing at but, enough,” he snapped.

Grayson actually took a step back at this. “Damian, what are you talking about?”

He waved at Grayson and Pennyworth. “This, you. I failed.” The word tasted like his poisoned tea had.

And now, Grayson took a step forward, like if he were dancing with him. “Damian, I don’t think there’s anything for you to feel guilty of.”

“Of course there is; need I spell it out for you? I fell asleep. You could have died.”

“I mean, I’m glad you care, but, kiddo, falling asleep is understandable.”

“Not when I am your partner!” Damian shouted, hands in fists at his side.

Pennyworth moved to intervene. “Master Damian, please calm down. It is nothing to get so worked up over. You have had a number of long nights; it is my fault for keeping you up so often.”

Damian shook his head, words lost again. They were not going to blame him. Not going to do anything. Or tell him anything or make any of this clear.

Frustration was hot and sick in his chest. Like wanting to throw up; only, he wanted to scream as well. Scream and fight, and wear himself out until everything was gone and he was simply tired.

“Dames--”

“No,” he snarled. “No, no, no. No nicknames or niceties or soft words. Do something!” he yelled and snapped at last, throwing himself at Grayson.

The man was surprised, catching Damian’s fist in one hand. Damian twisted away from him, darting to the side to charge again. He fought as much and as hard as he could, throwing punches that were dodged, kicks that missed by a mile, and flips that got him no closer to Grayson.

At last, Grayson caught another punch and didn’t let go. Instead, Damian found himself pulled forward and shifted until his back was pressed against Grayson’s chest, his arms wrapped tight around him.

All the fight flooded out of him in that instant and Damian slumped forward, heaving sobs catching in his chest. He didn’t even know when he’d started crying. It had been too much. Too much fear and exhaustion and not knowing.

Grayson pulled them both to the cold concrete. Damian wanted to turn, to bury his face in Grayson’s chest, but that was more weakness, and he’d fallen so far tonight.

Instead, he cried until he’d worn himself out and his eyes felt dry, his chest hollow. He wanted--wanted---he wanted Mother. He wanted to know what to do, wanted the comforting knowledge of a Father there and alive, anchoring him.

“I’m sorry.” Grayson murmured, “I’m sorry I can’t be him.”

Had Damian spoken aloud?

“What do you want?” he asked instead.

“Oh, Dames.” Grayson’s voice was sad. “I just want to help. To be whatever I can be.”

Grayson’s grip loosened a bit, from a desperate hold to an almost cradle. “I haven’t been here as much as I should, and I’m sorry. I’ve been busy, but I should have made more time. Made sure you knew I meant it when I said I wanted you here.”

He sat there for a moment silent again, before Grayson spoke back up, “Damian?”

“Yes?”

“What do you want?” he asked, turning Damian’s question back on him.

“I--” Damian broke off, “I don’t know. I want--I want to know what to do.”

The floodgates felt like they wanted to open again, but Damian was too tired, he hiccupped, “I don’t know the rules. I don’t know what you want.”

“Oh, Dames” -- the nickname felt warm, like the hug Grayson held him in -- “does it bother you that much?”

“Yes.” The word was a sob.

“Alright.” Grayson’s nod brushed against his hair. “Structure, Steph mentioned you needed it, and I was hoping you’d find it on your own, but, yes. Let’s talk? I’ll answer all your questions.”

Grayson shifted, pulling away a bit to move around and face Damian before continuing, “First though, I need to shower, and you might like one to help soothe your nerves. You’re not in any trouble, ‘kay? So don’t go start assuming things.”

He hiccupped again, “Okay.”

“Good. Then we’ll both meet up in the kitchen in twenty minutes for cocoa, alright?”

Damian nodded. “Alright.”

#Damian Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Dick Grayson #poison #mentions of childhood abuse #trauma #breakdown #fanfiction #precious posts #chapter 6 #with a heart of scars #wahos

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lulaypp · 3 years

Text

If You Put Two Stubborns Together... - Deleted Scene

Robin entered his brother's apartment, disabling all alarms before slipping in through the window. It was dark, quiet and seemingly empty. Just like how it usually was. He pulled his hood back before walking deeper, a box under one arm.

The rest of the family were at the manor, preparing for the birthday-dinner-plus-party, and they had sent Damian to invite Todd over, after the elder hadn't replied to their messages.

The place looked neat and tidy, cushions properly propped on the couch, books either stacked on the coffee table or lined in their shelves. He casted a glance around the darkness, trying to figure out where could his brother be. It was still too early for patrol and the shoes perched neatly at their place by the door indicated that Jason wasn't outside.

His eyes landed on the open bedroom door and he crossed the living area with ease, the lights of the setting sun coming from the window more than enough for him to see by. Silently rounding the couch, Damian nearly jump back, hand flying to his utility belt.

At the bedroom doorway, was Jason. On the ground. Unmoving. And there was a red-crusted rip on his pants, showing the dried wound underneath.

Robin casted his eyes around the apartment, checking every dark shadow for any signs of a hidden intruder, before diving to his brother, pulling off one of his gloves. His bare fingers found the elder's wrist and he released a breath at the pulse under the warm skin.

Warm. Too much so. With a frown, Damian moved his hand to rest on his brother's forehead, feeling the heat radiating from the skin. Fever, his mind supplied.

His brows drew into a confused furrow. He quickly checked the bedroom. No sign of an intruder. Another run-through of the apartment showed no signs of struggle or fight either, only an unwashed container, plate, pan and fork in the sink.

Something... was not making any sense. He crouched by Todd again, noting the leather jacket and gun holsters worn by his brother.

He needed an expert's help on this.

Damian pulled out his phone, dialed and waited for the other end to pick up. Todd was unconcious, fevered and in his Red Hood uniform. There were no intruders, no lethal wounds; unless if that knife stab on the leg was caused by a laced weapon.

The person other end of the line finally picked up and Damian quickly spoke up before the man could say anything. "Pennyworth, I require you assistance."

---

A/N: Originally wrote it to get my writing brain to start working again when it reached a block (and to prevent it from going full-fledged angst) but I decided to remove it from the story as it was a bit short and it didn't go well. I found it again a bit ago and decided to edit and make it longer than just two teeny paragraphs and post it here. It actually sounds a lot more dramatic than the story actually is? XD

Click here to read the fanfic itself.

#Batfam #Fanfic #Deleted scene #Damian wayne #Robin

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thelittleredrobinhood · 4 years

Text

The Shadows We Cast

This is my contribution to this years @batfam-big-bang Big Bang! I’ve never been apart of anything like this and it was incredible. I have never met such kind and talented people and I can’t wait to do more with all of them in the future. The mods are all amazing and wonderful people and I can’t thank them enough for existing.

Special thanks to @shelbychild, @kuraness, and @xvivon for betaing this chapter, and @houser-of-stories for the art for this chapter, and @coravao and @dreamer-247 for the artwork for later chapters. You were all so incredibly helpful and I’m sorry I made you work so hard.

Chapter: 1/6

Length: 4,300 words

Fandom: Batman

Ratings: General Audiences

Trigger Warnings: Food Mention, Fire Mention,

Relationships: Dick Grayson/Barbra Gordon

Characters: Dick Grayson, Barbra Gordon, Jason Todd, Tim Drake-Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth

Summary:

Just another ordinary day in Gotham city and Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Duke are enjoying the calm in different ways. But in the sunlight everyone casts shadows, and some are harder to avoid than others.

Chapter 1: Dick

The morning light shines through Dicks window, casting his small bedroom in a golden hue. He quickly glances at the clock on his bedside table, 8:00am faintly glowing on its screen. Dejectedly, he resigns to his fate; he has to get up.

After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he carefully turns to the other side of the bed to see the beautiful redhead sleeping next to him. Barbara Gordon - sometimes he still can’t believe it. How did he ever get a girl like her? She’s smart, kind, and brave... not to mention the most beautiful girl he has ever seen.

He takes a minute just to let it sink in, then carefully kisses her forehead, and, though her eyes flutter, she doesn’t wake. Silently, he sneaks out of bed and creeps out of their room. Normally Babs would cook breakfast, but she was up late solving a cold case with Tim, and Dick wants to do something nice for her.

He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, stretching his sore muscles as he walks. Each step feels as though his own body is against him, fighting with everything it has to convince him to go back to his warm bed, but he persists. There was a time in his life when he could jump out of bed and run all the way to breakfast, but that time has long since passed.

He pauses for a moment, taken aback. When did his childhood begin to feel like a lifetime ago? He swears it was only yesterday he was running through the manor halls. Glancing around him, he takes in his surroundings; the short hallway from his bedroom to the kitchen is dark, getting lighter with each passing second. He could just see their couch, with Barbara’s favorite blanket strewn across the top and the kitchen table still covered in case files from last night.

Finally, he looks to the wall in front of him, filled with pictures of his family. The single picture of his parents surrounded by the family he has found, the family he has watched grow. There are pictures of all of them, though his favorite is the newest: a group photo of him and his brothers; even Jason is there. He can’t help but smile at the memory; it was right after Duke's first solo patrol and they all had dinner at the manor to celebrate.

Dick remembers starting out, all the pressure and the fear, but he can’t be happier with how it all turned out, with what he started. He knows it was hard on them following in his footsteps, but he can’t be prouder of what they’ve accomplished. He only hopes they know that.

After another moment, and a few deep breaths, he walks the rest of the way to his kitchen. After turning on the light, the first thing he does is start the coffee machine, the smell of the roasting beans waking him up properly. As that brews, Dick carefully clears the table, making sure to keep Barbara’s work in order.

Then he walks over to the fridge and opens it slowly, taking stock of what’s inside. His usual go-to is a nice big bowl of cereal, but Barbara deserves better. After a minute, he decides his best bet is just some simple scrambled eggs and toast; even he couldn’t mess that up, again.

A few more minutes pass and just as Dick is finishing the eggs, Barbara comes into view.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Dick says when he spots her. He always has to see her to know she’s there. So many years of training ingrained stealth into her bones, even silent in her wheelchair.

“Morning. Is that breakfast?”

“Yep! Scrambled eggs with extra cheese, just how you like it.” Dick places her coffee and plate of food on the dining room table just as she wheels into her spot, their motions fluid around each other, practiced a hundred times.

“Thanks babe,” she says, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. He got the coffee just right too. Dick kisses her quickly on the forehead in response, then turns to retrieve his own breakfast.

Though just as he is about to sit down, smoke fills the room.

“The toast!” He remembers too late. He promptly jumps to his feet as Babs begins to laugh. Acting quickly, he pulls out the toast and opens a window, just in time to stop the fire alarm from going off, again. After a few minutes of frantically waving his arms back and forth to clear the smoke, he finally sits down, now with the burnt toast in hand.

“A lot of help you were,” he says teasingly to his girlfriend, who has continued to eat her breakfast without him.

“You had it under control, you always do. Please tell me you aren’t going to eat that?” she asks when she notices Dick begin to butter the black toast.

“What? I like it burnt.” He grins. Babs just shakes her head, a fond smile appearing at her lips.

Once breakfast is finished and the plates cleaned and put away, Barbara opens her laptop and checks her messages.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Dick asks, leaning on the back of her wheelchair to see the screen.

“I don’t know. It looks like Duke is already out on patrol and he seems to have the city under control for now,” she says without looking up.

“Well then, it looks like we can have a quiet Saturday for once.”

“That sounds nice,” Barbara says longingly.

“It does. I just need to call Bruce real quick. Then I’m all yours.” Dick kisses her cheek then grabs his phone and dials.

He puts his phone next to his ear as he walks towards the window. Outside his apartment, Gotham City is slowly waking up: cars making their way to jobs, kids enjoying their day off from school. After a few more rings, he hears Bruce’s answering machine, not unexpected this early in the morning. Though by now he knows B doesn’t ever bother listening to his voicemails, so he doesn’t leave one.

Dialing a new number, he raises his phone back up to his ear. It takes less than one ring for a voice to come through.

“Grayson.”

“Morning, Damian,” Dick says cheerfully.

“Of that I am aware. What is the reason for this phone call?” Damian asks in his ever-emotionless tone.

“What? A guy can’t just call his little brother?” Dick asks playfully.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Damian retorts dryly.

“Well now that you mention it. I called Bruce, but he didn’t pick up. Did he make it back from Star City ok?”

“Father has yet to return, he must have gotten caught up in the case, goodness knows Queen probably needs the help. He will undoubtedly make contact later when he remembers to look up from the computer screen,” Damian replies, though more curtly than usual.

“Is everything ok over there?” Dick asks. Most people couldn’t tell, but Dick could hear the odd tone in his little brother’s voice.

“Everything is fine. Brown was finally able to get Drake to sleep and I am under orders not to disturb him,” Damian responds.

“That’s good. How long was he awake this time?” asks Dick, as he turns to lean against his window.

“3 days. I don’t understand how he could even function… Not that I care. If that is what it takes for him to be of use then so be it. The mission is all that matters,” he adds quickly.

“Of course, the mission, but you know he’s family too. It’s okay to worry about him,” Dick says carefully.

“I am not worried. It would be a waste of my time to feel such emotions for anyone, let alone that imbecile,” Damian snaps, though Dick ignores the tone.

“Well I’m glad you’re not worried because Tim can handle himself,”

“If that will be all?” Damian asks haughtily.

“But if Tim isn’t bothering you what is?” Dick probes.

“Nothing.”

“Damian?” he questions.

“Really, Grayson, I am fine.”

“Ok, if you say so. Hey, since Bruce is still gone, do you want to patrol together tonight? Or are you going with Jon?” Dick asks, changing the subject.

“Kent and I have no plans. If you require my assistance, I can accompany you,” Damian replies.

“Awesome, 7 sound good?” Dick offers.

“Perfectly acceptable. I will meet you in the cave then.”

“Cool, see you then,” Dick replies happily.

Damian hangs up the phone without another word.

Dick takes a deep breath. Concern for his little brother is still fresh in his mind, but he knows if something were really wrong Damian would have told him. Shaking his head, he moves from his spot at the window back to where Babs is sitting, still looking at her laptop.

“Everything ok?” she asks without looking up from the screen.

“Yah. Bruce isn’t back yet so I spoke to Damian. Apparently, Stephanie finally got Tim to sleep.”

“Ooh, how long was he awake this time?” Babs questions, finally looking up.

“3 days. Did he seem alright while you were working together last night?” Dick asks while settling on the sofa next to her wheelchair.

“No more sleep deprived than usual. I have no idea how he does that, but I’ll admit I’m kind of jealous.”

“I’m not. I can’t imagine trying to deal with both of you while you're hyped up on caffeine.” Dick shuddered at the thought. He still had a bruise from the last time it was his turn to get Tim to sleep.

“You wouldn’t stand a chance.” Barbara smirks. “So did Damian know when Bruce is going to be back?”

“He didn’t know, if he’s not back by tonight Damian and I are going to head out for patrol around 7,” Dick responds.

“Hmm, it's not like Bruce not to call in. Maybe I should check up on him…”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Oliver would have called if something were wrong. Now come on, we have the whole day to ourselves. What do you want to do?” Dick says confidently.

“Well, there is some shopping I’ve wanted to do, and we could probably use a new toaster, one that’s a little harder to set on fire,” Barbara remarks with a grin.

“Hey!” Though just as Dick is about to protest, one look from Babs has him thinking twice. He puts his hands up in defeat. “You know what, that’s fair. And we can grab lunch while we're out, my treat.”

“Old Chuck’s Sandwich Truck?”

“You got it! I’ll grab our coats.” Dick smiles, kissing Barbara’s cheek.

The shops aren’t far from their apartment and the autumn weather hasn’t turned on them yet. The pair decide to take the opportunity and enjoy the cool day, walking leisurely to the shops.

The errands don’t take too long, just some essentials and a new toaster. Though they take their time simply enjoying each other’s company. Finally, arms full of bags, they start to make their way home.

The streets are busy but not yet filled with holiday shopping madness. Everyone is still in light jackets and shorts, no need to hide away from the cold yet. On the last turn to their apartment, they take a left instead of a right, heading toward a small nearby park. This particular park has all the best food trucks, though that has nothing to do with why he picked an apartment nearby, definitely.

Their walks were never dull, conversation always flowing easily between Dick and Barbara; from new movies to old memories, the topics never stayed the same for long. Though right now they walk in comfortable silence, no words are needed. At a crosswalk Dick glances down at Barbara with a smile, simply content to see her face, though she doesn’t notice. Her attention is taken by a bus unloading across the street; she can’t help but grin and stifle a laugh.

Across the entire left side of the bus is an ad for Wayne Enterprises, with a giant picture to Tim Drake-Wayne’s face. Dick follows her eyes and they almost miss the sign to cross, they are laughing so much. Tears in their eyes, they finish the walk to the park, still giggling to themselves.

“Please tell me you got a photo of that,” Dick asks once they reach the park.

“Of course. Who do you think I am, Bruce?” Babs replies sarcastically.

“Can you…”

“Already sent to your phone,” Barbara answers before he can even finish his question.

“I’m gonna send it to Tim, he’ll love this.” Dick takes out his phone and sends his little brother a quick text with the photo.

Following one last laughing fit, the pair head to a small food truck tucked in the back corner of the park, the aroma hitting them twenty feet away, and by the time they order both their stomachs are rumbling.

After placing their order, they sit down on a nearby table. It’s covered in graffiti, like everything in Gotham, but at least it looks clean and isn’t mysteriously wet. Dick doesn’t really notice though; his mind has traveled back to the bus ad with Tim’s face. He looked so grown up.

“So, Tim must be doing well at Wayne Enterprises huh?” Barbara asks, noticing the distracted look on her boyfriend’s face.

“Huh? Oh, yeah he is. It's only been a few months and productivity is up 10%,” he says, turning his full attention back to his girlfriend.

“You must be proud of him.”

“The whole family is.” And he means it: Tim is doing a great job.

“But?”

“I just hope he isn’t pushing himself too hard. There’s a reason I didn’t go into business at W.E. Our lives are busy enough with, well, you know. I couldn’t handle that kind of pressure on top of it.”

The words came out before he could stop them, but it was nice to finally air his worries out into the world.

“But that’s what makes you two different: stress like that is where Tim shines,” Barbara says, trying to ease his concern.

“I guess, but he still shouldn’t stay awake for days on end.”

“That’s just what he does, I don’t think anyone can change that,” Barbara points out. “Though maybe I should have tried to get him to rest last night.”

“He wouldn’t have listened; you’re right about no one being able to change him,” Dick says, and offers up a small smile.

“Except Stephanie apparently,” Barbara corrects.

“Except Steph. At this point she may be our only hope.” He smiles for real now. He’s so glad Tim has someone like her in his life.

After a few moments of content silence, the cook shouts that their order is ready. Dick gets up and retrieves their food and brings it back to the table. As the pair eats, their conversation returns to lighter things: the meal, the weather, the rules about their new toaster. The worries from their previous conversation melt away.

Once they finish, they throw away their trash and begin walking home. As they make their way back onto the street, a light rain begins to fall from above. Some passers by raise their umbrellas while others hurry indoors, but Dick and Barbara don’t even flinch. This was Gotham after all; rain was nothing. Though they both hope it stops before patrol, as rain and spandex don’t mix well.

On the final block of their walk they pass by a newsstand, still a common sight in Gotham. It’s almost like some parts of the city are frozen in time. Shifting her bags to one arm, Babs grabs a now slightly soggy paper and pays. It may be old fashioned, but some habits are harder to break. She blames her Dad for this one.

A few more feet and Dick steps up and unlocks the complex door, holding it open for Barbara to pass through. She smiles gratefully and rolls up to the elevator doors, hitting the button with her newspaper.

While waiting for the elevator she begins scanning the cover, a proud smile quickly appearing on her face. The front page headline was from last night: Batman and Robin had busted a local gang, and though some got away, most were now safely behind bars.

A moment later the elevator arrives, and they begin the slow ascent to their apartment floor.

“How’s it feel being a hero?” Barbara asks him coyly, holding up the newspaper for her boyfriend to see.

“You did all the hard work finding them,” he responds.

“Really though, how are you doing filling in for the big bad bat?” Barbara asks, becoming serious.

“It's fine. He needed my help, so I helped.” Dick shrugs.

“Really? No mixed feelings? I know you don’t want to become Batman, but you’ve really started to get good at it,” she probes.

“…Honestly? At first, I hated it, you know that. But after Bruce came back and it became a once in a while thing, it's not so bad. It’s just no matter what I do, I know I’ll never be as good as Bruce. Like last night, it should have been a piece of cake, but some of them still got away.” He looked down, guilt evident on his face.

“But you’re not Bruce and that’s ok,” Barbara reassures him.

“Is it? Part of the reason I didn’t want the cowl was because I didn’t want to know just how much better he is than me.” He sighs, shifting his bags to run a hand over his face.

“And?”

“And maybe I didn’t want him to know either, but now we both do. I just know how much I’ve already let him down, by not joining the company, by becoming a cop. I didn’t want to disappoint him in this too.”

“You aren’t. You’re doing a great job, and if I recall he didn’t start out perfectly either. You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” she insists.

“Maybe.”

“Hey, there has to be some upside to it?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“I mean, it is nice to patrol with Damian again,” he says.

“Oh yeah?”

“His fighting skills have come so far, and he actually listens to orders now and…” He can’t help the wave of pride washing over him as he talks about all of Damian’s achievements.

The elevator doors open to their floor. Realizing they could be heard, he shifts the conversation.

“…and his grades are great! All A’s. And he’s finally making friends, he and Jon have been hanging out a ton lately, I’m actually surprised he was free tonight,” he continues, careful of saying anything suspicious.

Reaching their apartment door, they make their way inside and begin putting away their groceries.

“He did sound a little odd earlier, though he may just have been worried about Tim,” Dick remembers.

“Really, I thought they still weren’t getting along?” Barbara asks, a bit surprised.

“They aren’t really, but I know Damian cares. I should probably bring it up on patrol tonight just to be safe. I need to make sure he knows he can tell me stuff too, especially if Tim isn’t,” Dick answers, his tone going serious again.

“I’m sure Tim will come around.”

“Hopefully. Maybe I should speak to him tonight too, though I doubt Alfred will let him out on patrol.”

“If you want to stay there tonight that’s ok with me. I can do my work from here. You spend some time with your brothers,” she offers with a reassuring smile.

“Thanks babe. I think I will,” Dick kisses Barbara’s forehead in thanks. He’s so grateful for her sometimes; she always knows what to say.

“Well, we’ve got a little time before you have to head out, want to watch a movie?” she asks, hoping to distract him for a little bit.

“Sure. Why don’t you pick while I finish putting the groceries away,” he responds as he picks up another bag and begins to put its contents away.

“Perfect.” She begins turning toward the couch half way there when she adds, “And don’t even think of touching the new toaster.”

He glances to the kitchen counter where it still sits in a plastic bag, deciding that’s probably a good idea and leaves it where it is.

Once he’s done putting away the rest of the groceries, Dick walks over to the couch, shrugging off his jacket as he goes. On the TV screen the first Avengers movie is just starting to play.

“Oh Avengers, you know I love me some good Steve Rogers,” Dick says. Barbara playfully punches his arm when he comes into range, then loops hers around his neck.

“Well you’re in luck, there’s a whole marathon on.”

In an instant he picks her up and settles them both down on the couch. Raising one arm behind his head he grabs Barbara’s blanket and throws it over them both, content to spend the next few hours by her side.

Towards the end of the movie, right as Tony flies into the wormhole to save the day, a news briefing flashes interrupts the scene.

“Good evening Gotham my name is Vicky Vale here with breaking news. This just in Gotham’s newest hero The Signal has stopped a bank robbery at Gotham National. Video shows him handing over several would be thieves to GCPD officers waiting outside. More at 6 on WWTN!”

The screen cuts back to the movie just as the Avengers decide to go out for shawarma.

“Wow look at Duke! Looks like Damian isn’t the only one finding his place,” Barbara comments.

“He’s a natural alright. He’s been here less than a year and he’s already going solo,” Dick replies.

“Well his powers can’t hurt,” she adds.

“He doesn’t need them, he does it all on his own,” Dick says confidently.

“You sound impressed,” Babs says.

“I am, no way I was doing that stuff year 1.”

“You were only 10 at the time,” she recalls.

“Still, he’s caught on so fast. I’m just glad he took the daytime route, or I might be out of a job. But in all seriousness, he really is doing great, even Bruce is surprised. And not just on the streets, he’s found his place in the family too. Even Damian likes him.”

“Wow, that’s high praise from him,” Babs says, surprised.

“It is, and I’ll admit, I wasn’t too sure at first. I didn’t see what Bruce did, but I’m glad I was wrong. He’s just the change this family needed after the past few years,” Dick says with a smile.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Barbara concurs. “Well we may have missed the end of the movie, but another is on after this. While we wait, can I trust you to make popcorn?”

“Hey, popcorn is my specialty,” he says sarcastically, and kisses her head as he gets up.

While walking to the kitchen, an alert on his phone grabs his attention. Looking down, a message from Jason fills the screen.

“I’m heading out early, got a tip about an arms deal down by the docks. Anybody else want in?”

Wow, Jason really has come a long way if he’s asking for backup. Well, not so much asking, but it's probably as close as they’ll ever get from him. He hasn’t exactly needed them lately, which is fine. Jason is his own man now, but that doesn’t mean Dick doesn’t miss spending time with him.

Jason’s death had really changed Dick, made him reevaluate what mattered to him, and now that’s Jason’s back he hopes his little brother knows he’s on that list. Though he’s sure Jason definitely has other priorities; he has his own mission now after all.

A lot of other heroes in the community think of Jason as a black sheep, but Dick never has. If anything, it's always impressed him how dedicated he is to his cause. At first, he was jealous of this new kid taking over his spot, but as time went on, he saw how much the boy had earned it.

Ever since Jason joined the family, he’s had a plan, and even now, after everything, he still knows what he needs to do. In some ways, he may even be more dedicated than Tim, giving up everything he had to fight his own way.

Dick can admit there was a time, a long time, when that was all he wanted. Now look at him, playing Batman while Bruce is off saving the world or whatever he’s doing this week. Maybe somewhere deep-down, Dick still is jealous of Jason.

“Dick, are you burning the popcorn?” Babs shouts from the living room.

“What? No, of course not.” Barbara’s call snaps Dick back to reality just in time to salvage their food.

He quickly grabs a bowl from a cabinet and pours the only slightly black popcorn inside. After adding enough butter to make Alfred wince, he heads back to the living room.

“Everything ok?” she asks, seeing his face.

“Jason texted, he’s heading out early to a bust, and wanted to know if anyone would like to join him.”

“Why don’t you join him? You probably have just enough time to go get Damian and meet him there.”

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes, I do. You’ve been feeling like your brothers aren’t confiding in you anymore, maybe spending some time with them will help. All of them.”

“You’re right, I just don’t want to make things worse.”

“You won’t. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want you there.”

“Alright I’ll go. Sorry it looks like you’re going to have to eat all this popcorn without me.”

Barbara looks down at the slightly burned kernels. “That’s too bad,” she says sarcastically.

Dick turns around and begins making his may to their hidden compartment filled with gear. He reaches for his phone to respond when it beeps again.

“Oh, maybe he changed his mind,” Dick mumbles to himself, as he looks at the device, but spread across the screen is a message he never wants to see.

Emergency: Code Red!

“Oh no…”

#batfam #batman #dick grayson #damian wayne #jason todd #barbara gordon #tw: food #tw: fire #dc comics #tim drake #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #lovable dumbass #fluff #maybe a little angst #cliffhanger

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bat-famzine · 4 years

Text

Happy Thanksgiving to our followers in the US! We hope you can enjoy some hearty food and fun time with friends and family.

How does the Batfam celebrate Thanksgiving? What are their favorite foods? Check out the incredible @preciousthingsareprecious‘s take on a Batfam Thanksgiving celebration below the cut! Don’t forget to preorder a copy of the zine here to read more of her work, as well as amazing art and writing from our other contributors!

Jason’s attention was split. A small speaker rested on the counter behind him, the rising and falling voice of a narrator flowing from it as they read The Andromeda Evolution to the room. Below him on the counter he worked dough, kneading it with growing confidence. His apron, the counter, and the floor were all dusted with flour, spread in a mess he was not looking forward to cleaning up.

As the narrator moved into a long technical explanation Jason’s mind wandered back to the dough under his palms. It had been a long time since he’d made rolls from scratch, or any bread beyond quick easy ones-- like those that were just a batter thrown in a loaf pan and baked-- so he’d been nervous when he’d decided that if he was going to do this, he’d do it right. Still, his hands and arms remembered the repetitive push and pull of working the dough, even if the last time he’d done it was when he’d been a kid.

When he’d lived at the manor, it had become somewhat of a tradition for Jason to help with the rolls. He figured Alfred set him to them because kneading took such energy, but he’d loved it all the same. He loved cooking in general. More than that, he’d loved that it seemed to bring everyone together. He and Alfred, and then on holidays where there was much to be done, Bruce would join them for the easier tasks and chatting.

He smiled at those memories, holidays had been much quieter when he was Robin than what he was expecting today. The family had grown so much since then.

His smile turned down and he rolled his eyes, they were all still idiots though, nothing would change that. If not, he’d be in the kitchen at the manor helping Alfred cook and not settled into his own apartment with far too little counter space for all his needs.

The narrator moved from their technical description back to the team in the jungle and Jason let thoughts of family past and present fall away as he listened. He rolled the dough into a loose ball and moved to get his greased bowl, depositing the dough into it, and covering the whole thing with a towel before setting it aside to rise.

As Jason set it down, the doorbell rang. He tapped pause on the app playing the book and wiped his hands on his apron before moving to the door. When he opened it a burst of chilly air washed over him.

“Heya, Squirt.” Jason said to a somewhat anxious looking Damian standing at his doorway.

He scowled at the nickname, anxiety falling away as his obligation to be irritated with any name beyond his given taking precedence over worries. His arms were crossed across his chest against the cold, making him look small and alone in the doorway.

Jason stepped back, smiling at the kid, “Come on in.”

Damian hurried inside, and stopped short, looking around the apartment utterly bedecked in pumpkins, leaves, and crackling candles. Jason let his grin grow at Damian’s surprise.

“What, did you think I’d invite you over for Thanksgiving and not roll out the red carpet?”

Damian turned on him, “I was under the impression that most people do not decorate for Thanksgiving.”

Jason shrugged, closing the door, “I’m not most people. Besides, it’s not every day I’m the one having family over for a holiday.”

“Then you did not only invite me?” It was a question, sharp enough to say he knew the answer.

He wagged a finger at Damian, and moved back towards the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, I didn’t have you come early so you could loiter at the door.”

“Todd.” Damian demanded, stomping after him, “What kind of plan have you cooked up this time?”

Jason was already busy, pulling an assortment of fruit out of the fridge to set on one of the counters, “I’m going to need to you slice all of this into bite size bits for the fruit salad.”

“Jason.”

It was the use of his name, and the worry in Damian’s voice that made Jason turn his full attention onto his youngest brother. The anxious look Damian had on his face when he��d been at the door was back, more obvious this time than last.

“If you have invited everyone then I will not be able to--”

“Stop that.” Jason said, interrupting him, “This is why it’s me hosting this year, because you lot all got it in your heads that it would be better if everyone celebrated without you.”

“You lot?” Damian asked, brows knit, “Do you mean to say that I was not the only one to have claimed alternate plans to Father?”

Jason nodded. He’d called Alfred a week ago to confirm Thanksgiving plans and see when he was expected to arrive and learned that everyone had mysterious ‘other engagements’. A few calls later and Jason had learned that each and every one of his siblings had opted out of the holiday festivities in an attempt to make the day better for someone else, leaving Bruce and Alfred alone. The lot of them were self sacrificing to a fault. On Thanksgiving of all days. The idiots.

“Thanksgiving is about family.” Jason said, tossing an apple at Damian, “Peel those before you slice them,” he added three more to the growing stack of fruit on the counter, “Family and time spent being thankful you’ve got them in your life, and I’m not letting any of you skip out because we’ve all got the conversation skills of rocks.”

Damian still hadn’t moved, apple cradled in his hands, “If I had known...I did not wish Father and Pennyworth to be alone.” his voice was tight, slightly strained like he was fighting with emotions.

Jason moved over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, “It’s alright. It’s sorted and everyone’s coming over.” he grinned at Damian, “Alfred and I will make sure of that. I’ve got the adults bringing stuff, so pull your weight and help me out.”

They worked in tandem, Damian following Jason’s instructions as he gave them, and showing a lot of promise in the kitchen. Jason made a mental note to have the kid help him more often when the opportunity presented itself. To avoid too much silence Jason switched the book on his speaker to something he knew Damian was interested in. They listened and worked together as a new voice filled the room, spinning tales of fantastic events.

When another knock at the door resounded above the narrator’s voice, Jason paused it.

“That’ll be Dick. Get the door for me?” he said, checking on now risen dough.

He smiled to himself as he heard Dick’s surprised exclamation and rolled his eyes at Damian’s playful complaints of being “worked to the bone”. The two chatted with animated voices while Jason finished rolling individual rolls and setting them aside for their second rise. He turned just in time for Damian to lead Dick into the kitchen, the man carrying a large bowl of mashed potatoes.

“Now I see why you told me to bring enough for ten.” he said, grinning, “What’d you do, team up with Alfred to plot all this?”

Jason grinned at him and winked, making Dick choke on a laugh, “I should have known. Careful or you’ll be hosting every year.”

It was a warning Jason wasn’t sure he’d heed. Even with the few of them there, the feeling of the day was warm and comforting. He found himself looking forward to the chaos sure to fill his little apartment in a way he hadn’t looked forward to anything in a long time.

Everyone else filtered in slowly after that. Tim, Cass, and Steph came together having bumped into one another on the way bringing drinks and stuffing. Then Duke with a casserole looking much like something Alfred had made.

People milled around, Tim hijacked Jason’s speaker and started playing music, and Damian (now protective of the kitchen and his place helping) shooed out anyone trying to sneak an early bite of dinner. It was a tight fit in Jason’s apartment, but comfortable. And everyone was smiling, despite all the worries of “If I’m here I’ll fight with them” and “It would be more peaceful if I did not come”. Jason fully expected some kind of spat to happen at some point, but what was a family gathering without a little bit of mess?

Jason left his youngest brother stirring the gravy to greet Bruce and Alfred when they arrived. Each carried one of Alfred’s famous pies. Alfred had a delighted twinkle in his eye and Bruce looked startled but happy.

“I never doubted you for a moment.” Alfred said, patting Jason on the shoulder before taking Bruce’s pie from him and moving to the kitchen to leave them together.

When they were alone Bruce cast his eyes around the group, “You got everyone together?”

“Alfred helped.” Jason said.

“But you spearheaded it.”

Jason shrugged, at a loss for words. Which was silly, it wasn’t like he’d done anything huge or dug them out single handedly from rubble or something. He’d just tricked everyone into coming over for Thanksgiving dinner.

“Thanks.” Bruce said, and tugged him into a hug, “It’s good to have everyone together.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Old Man.” Jason said clearing his throat of the sudden tightness there, “Alfred threatened not to bake at all if the whole family didn’t come.”

This made his dad laugh, “Nothing motivates like Alfred’s pies.”

“We should try bribing criminals with them.” Jason said.

“Todd!” Damian’s head poked from the kitchen, his nose was smeared with what could be either mashed potatoes or whipped cream, “Your assistance is required in the kitchen.” his eyes caught onto Bruce, “Oh, hello, Father.”

“Damian.” Bruce nodded, “You’ve got a bit of uh.” he motioned to his nose.

Damian’s eyes just about crossed to look at his nose before he wiped a hand across it, “It is Drake’s fault. Both of you come, or the whole meal will be ruined.”

Jason waved him back in, and turned back to Bruce, “That’s our cue, ready to go save the day?”

Bruce nodded, “Lead the way.”

#batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #batgirl #alfred pennyworth #duke thomas #fanzine #batfamily #batfam

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