#Tim ‘this house is a fucking nightmare’ Drake Wayne

[incorrectbatfam]

Wayne Tower yelp reviews pls (wrong answers ofc)

★★★☆☆ Disappointed but not surprised

Was invited to the Wayne Gala held at the Tower this year to accommodate special guests from the Justice League. Was photographed by reporter Clark Kent. Wanted to meet Superman but he didn't show up. Food and atmosphere was good. Got told off for swinging from the chandelier. Why have a chandelier if not for swinging?

★☆☆☆☆ Not even gonna dignify it with a title

I'd give zero stars if I could. The CEO is a massive fucking asshole. He's full of nothing but smooth-brained takes. He claims he'll be there when you need him but never shows up. And when you RIGHTFULLY resent him, he'll turn around and pretend YOU are the bad guy. That isn't even touching on his AUDACITY to replace you so soon after you leave. You think you know this man, you think you've grown to trust him, and then he goes and stabs you in the back. Believe me when I say RUN. Get as FAR away from this company and that bastard Bruce Wayne as you possibly can.

★★☆☆☆ SOS

I work here. Too many emails. Half the execs are Boomers who can't export a PDF. The break room is out of coffee. My dad won't stop visiting the office. When will the nightmare end???

★★★★☆ Imperfect but respectable

I had the opportunity to visit Wayne Tower on Bring Your Child To Work Day. The building is up to code and I was able to view all the health code certifications. I admire that Wayne Enterprises takes care of its employees by allowing ample vacation time, in-house daycare, and well-maintained recreation spaces. The cafeteria did not have as many vegetarian options as I would have preferred, but I have been informed that they operate on a rotating menu, so I shall revisit again next week and possibly amend my review. I would leave five stars but I ran into Tim Drake on the way out and that brought the whole experience down a notch.

★☆☆☆☆ No Chipotle

Was told there was a Chipotle here. Did not find Chipotle.

★★★☆☆ Badge entry didn't work

I'm on the night shift at the company's call center. One time I was already running late but for some reason I couldn't badge in. The janitor wouldn't let me through even though I had proof I was supposed to be here. Had to escalate to the CEO. Still better than working the Batburger drive-thru though.

★★★★★ Hi Dad

Hi Dad.

★★★★☆ Good but...

I love the bathrooms. They're easy to find and very accessible for a wheelchair user like myself. There's plenty of space for me to navigate and the products are top-notch, especially the hot towels. The toaster oven under the sink also doesn't make sense, but then again, my lockscreen is Nightwing so I can't judge.

★★☆☆☆ No cats allowed

I got written permission from the CEO himself to bring my cat to the office, but the doorman turned me away. Next time, there should be better communication between the employees.

★★★★☆ Rooftop makes for good date

I brought my girlfriend up here for our anniversary date. The building has a beautiful view of the city and the restaurant was great. The bread was a little dry, but nothing that a little butter couldn't fix. Unfortunately, she's an on-call detective and we had to cut our evening short, but that's not the staff's fault.

★☆☆☆☆ Got called Bri'ish

Someone called me Bri'ish.

#bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #barbara gordon #selina kyle #kate kane #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #batfam #batboys #batbros #batgirls #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #incorrect batfamily quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect dc quotes #batfam social media #dc comics #tw swearing #tw food mention #long post

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

I will be your Blade Point Me

Loyalty was a trait Janet Drake respected above all others.

It can give you power, fame, money to have someone's loyalty was to have their life.

Tim has always given his all. His people whatever they need they have. May it be his mind, his skills, or even his weapons.

If Dick Grayson demanded the shirt off his back he would remain naked till the end of his days.

Very few times has anyone actually used it the first to test it was Jason.

"Hey Jay.. What's up you never call?"

Tim's phone is always ringing from Wayne Enterprises to his assorted friends he can't remember it being silent. Yet the shock when HighWay to Hell started blaring almost sent him into cardiac arrest.

"Need a favor. Think you could meet me at that safe house you keep pretending not to break into?"

"Yah no problem also it's not breaking in when you leave the window unlocked. Give me ten."

~

Jason doesn't do favors. He would rather die again than ever ask for shit.

When it comes to Tim though he's not an idiot. During his return to Gotham he researched, knew everything about him from his favorite color to when he fucking peed.

Part of his research specifically including who trained the third Robin. Nevermind that watching the kid fight for more than ten minutes gives it away.

Lady Shiva, Ra's just to name a few. He moves almost exactly the same as Cass. Hides in the shadows better than Damian. The whole creepy debacle with Mr. Old as Fuck just furthered Jason hypothesis.

Baby Bird, Bruce's prized protege isn't none lethal.

"I need you to kill someone."

~

Tim in the back of his mind expected it.

Jason for all he is exactly like Bruce doesn't respond the same. To him protection is blood soaked, a knife to the throat is a greeting. Kindess was shrouded and wasn't offered without losing a part of yourself.

"Joker I'm assuming?"

~

He expected a bit of a fight maybe a lecture at least for him to pretend, not whatever it is Replacement is doing.

"He hasn't broken out of Arkham in months haven't heard shit and I hear your in the same business as me nowadays. What you say about helping a brother out?"

~

He wonders if Jason is aware of how his voice cracked. The pleading that was heard the unspoken because I can't. Tim couldn't imagine looking Jason in the eye and saying no. Watching your son bend and demanding he break.

"Hate to burst your bubble, but I already did, I know you think the worst of me but I wasn't gonna let your murderer keep kicking his feet."

He tosses the drive he's been sitting on almost three months before heading back to the window.

"I know we got our shit Jay but your my brother. This is something you needed to be able to sleep at night. You shouldn't feel like you have to beg. I honestly thought you had known and didn't want to acknowledge it."

~

Jason can't breathe as he shuts his computer. Thirty hours of torture his baby brother broke the Joker in ways that turned his stomach.

He climbs into bed his eyes shutting sleeping without a nightmare for the first time in years.

He can't ever repay Tim nothing will ever be enough but he is gonna do everything to try.

He wonders if Ra's might need the same treatment?

#tim drake #batfamily #jason todd #dead joker #Bamf Tim drake #Bamf Jason Todd #tim drake is a menace #Tim drake kills people #damian wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #bamf batfamily #batfam

[dairy-farmer]

Unknowingly A Meta AU? owo ? Tim with a Dream Manipulation power he doesn't know he has? Because it can effect HIS dreams. And no one ever mentions it.

His parents? Wearing all sorts of gifts and old jewelry from various sites. They are gucci. Completely untouchable. So the few times Baby Tim DOES show up in there dreams as a kid, when they are in house, they write off as "weird but pleasant".

After all? Who doesn't like to dream about playing with your kid? Going to a fantastical theme park or something? Having a family picnic? It's JUST a nice dream, right?

But! Not everyone has such protections.

And Baby Tim? Gets fixated. Curious. Falls asleep wanting to KNOW. Perhaps, thinking about one member of the Wayne family or another. And since his range is growing? Wayne Manor is juuuuust close enough. Barely, at first. Then easily.

And it's innocent at first. Of course it is. He's just a small child, full of questions. Was Mr. Batman like him as a child? Where did Mr. Pennyworth come from? What was living in the circus like? And so? They dream.

Bruce, playing with a child his age, on the lawn as his parents watch on fondly. Alfred, back too his youth, full of mischief as he runs the streets of his little English town along side friends long dead. Made young once more. Dick, laughing, underfoot, as he and his new friend run roughshod all across the setup site. His parents fond but exasperated.

Such meaningful dreams.

Private, though.

No need to mention them. Or realize the whole household is getting such dreams all at the same time.

And the dreams persist. Tim forever having questions. Or just wondering. Not thinking much on WHY he seems to have such vivid dreams. He's always had them. Surely everyone does. Storybooks certainly seem to suggest that.

Dick leaves. Jason comes.

Dick notices he's started having... nightmares. Chaotic, dark, brooding dreams. Of failure and lose. He doesn't connect things... yet.

Jason doesn't fuckin TRUST these happy clappy, golden sunshine n puppies dreams. The fuck is this? The fuck are YOU? Tim doesn't see a reason to lie. It's just a dream, right?

Uh huh.

Riiiight. Say, Timbits, you ever been tested for that Meta gene thingy? Asks Jason, who has clocked what's happening here, basically night one.

No, why? Asks the clueless neighbor kid.

Before Jason can think of a... polite...ish... way to call him thick and his parents dense as bricks, he wakes up. Gets to spend the whole day looking into the Drake's. Finds out the kid is basicly isolated in that great big house of his. Decides he's... NOT gonna be saying anything.

Welcome to dream land, you little weirdo. Just don't scramble his brains or touch stuff he says not too.

Then? Dick visits. Tim is thrilled. And Dick? Gets his first GOOD dream in weeks. No "what if's", no haunting seconds too late, just? Good moments. Everything languid and lit by golden light. Untouchable.

Perfect.

Him and Kori, between missions, exploring each other. Everything pleasure and light. Grinding. Gasping. Groaning in pleasure as they found just the right angle, sweat catching the light like diamonds. She was beautiful. HE never felt more desirable.

But something niggles in his brain. A sense of being watched, that hadn't been there then. Fascinated little eyes. Blue. Not Jason. Poorly hidden in the corner of the room. He... he should be alarmed. Focus. This isn't for little eyes. Should kick him out. But Kori's here. And everything is soft and so GOOD. He keeps getting lost in that instead.

Is aware, so aware, of little eyes that trail his body like eager hands.

It shouldn't make everything better.

But it does.

And NOW? Now Tim has NEW questions. As puberty closes in fast and without mercy.

And Bruce's dreams certainly have answers. His every desire and fantasy laid bare. Past loves, current lovers, fantasies about coworkers. Being watched. A curiosity. An amusement, perhaps? His brain struggles to pull free of the pleasure and focus.

But eventually, his iron will allows it. He HAS trained for this, after all.

He gets the jump on the... imp? Fae? Youthful looking creature. But touching them just pulls him back under. So he kisses them instead. Strips them. Hands finding places that make them squirm. He's not sure HOW he finds himself fucking them, but he never wants to stop.

And after that? Neither does Tim. He'd never imagined THAT was an option! It felt AMAZING. Which leads to all manner of wet dreams. For every Heroic guest Bruce has. During the day? Prim and proper, everything above board. But in SLEEP? They are pounding their new brother/son incoherent.

Just? Imagine them trying to trigger wet dreams? Trying to get attention in the evenings, so he'll think about THEM before bed. Pouting when their dreams were pleasant nothing instead of Tim Time. The guilty PANIC of guests who TOTALLY boned Timmy drooling and fucked stupid in the Dream Space, now having to sit across Batman, and pretend they didn't do that. Not realizing he totally let them.

Can't get caught, if it's not physical! Dream Sex!

-🐼🐼🐼

and they're completely guilt free because its a dream😌😌😌

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

[mylifeisfruk4ever]

Winter in Gotham had no mercy. It was rigid, and ruthless, and caused more victims among the poor population than one of Mr. Freeze's bad days.

And even then, Mr. Freeze could be stopped. 

Jack and Janet Drake, due to all their travelling, must have forgotten it, otherwise, they would have had the damned heating system repaired, as Barbara had already pointed out to them centuries ago!

But no, and now here she was struggling in the snow, with a feverish five-year-old child in her arms and the freezing wind hurting her eyes.

Good thing working for Drake should have been easy!

Her father wanted her to learn responsibility – and to stop going out at night like Batgirl, but they didn't talk about that and pretended the other didn't know – and the Drakes seemed a good option, always on the go and never breathing down her neck.

A match made in heaven. Moreover, Tim was a good child.

It was great for everyone. She never imagined it would be so frustrating. Even working with Batman didn't leave her wanting to become a Rouge and join Gotham's Sirens. And Batman was exasperated.

“Babs…I'm cold…”

“Don't worry,” Barbara reassured the five-year-old, holding him tighter. “You'll be better soon.”

And Tim will be better. Barbara would have done anything to make him feel better, even calling Kara in Gotham to have them both take her to Metropolis, where winter wasn't a fucking nightmare. Screw Bruce and his stupid no-meta rule.

But she won't resort to Kara just yet. First, he had to get to Wayne Manor.

The snow made it difficult for her to walk, but Barbara was nothing if not stubborn, and with a sick child to save. She struggled, almost tripping several times, but finally made it to the door of Wayne Manor.

She tried to knock, being careful not to drop Tim, while her heart was pounding.

Let him be in the house, let him be in the house and not out beating Mr. Freezer...

Miraculously, the door opened, and on the other side, Alfred Pennyworth looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Miss Gordon? What are you doing out in this weather?”

READ MORE A place to stay warm

#au #fanfiction #bruce wayne #tim drake #the batman #feels #batfamily #kid fic #fic #my fic #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #barbara gordon #batgirl #dick grayson #jason todd #batfam #alfred pennyworth

[quotidian-oblivion]

For the wips:

BRUCE WAYNE WRITES FANFIC

And "Untitled Document" no. 3

YAYYYYYYYY. AN ASK. FROM SARDONIC SPRITE. Thank you.

I've answered bruce wayne writes fanfic AU and the link is over here. But Untitled Document no. 3... hmm... let us see.

AH YES! It is a fluffy fluffed up fluff fic. Again, I plan on writing this so imma share a bit of the idea. It is actually inspired by a post from kaibigan-ko on a tumblr post that i found on Pinterest and a bit of it is also from anotehr Pinterest post on DC headcannons.

~

Jack comes in with a flyer which advertises Dick as a babysitter. (He’s 16). Jack talks to Janet about having some company for Tim while they’re away as Tim often cries every time his parents leave. And since they’re leaving in a week, they could hire Dick to spend time with Tim. He turns to Tim and asks how he thinks of having a part-time brother, Tim is overjoyed and immediately replies with a “YES!”, jumping up and down with joy cuz Robin is going to babysit him.

Dick receives a phone call from Janet about the babysitting ad a day later, exactly when Bruce was passive-aggressively making fun of Dick not receiving a single call. He excitedly accepts and smirks at Bruce, who suddenly turned gruff again. His teasing lasts the whole day. 

The next day, he wakes up, panicked cuz he had a nightmare about losing a kid while he was babysitting. He calls Barbara and explains the situation to her, asking her to help him train him to be a good babysitter. All Barbara responds with is, “Dick, it’s 5am in the morning, what the fuck?”

“Language, missy.”

“Sorry, dad.” 

Dick just asks her to meet him up for slushies at their usual place. Barbara sighs and agrees (it’s the summer holidays, btw). 

Barbara teaches Dick the basics of how to treat boo boos, handle tantrums, set firm boundaries, respect the kids’ choices while keeping them safe, and how to carefully detangle himself for when the kid randomly leaps into his arms.

A week later, Dick is ready. Not. He receives another nightmare about losing a kid in the shopping center and calls Barbara again, begging her to be there with him on his first day today. Barbara has a different response this time, “Dick, it’s 4 am.” 

Dick begs her and says that they can split the earnings, 20-80. Barbara thinks for a bit and argues 35-65 and he agrees. The money he’s paid is stupid rich anyway. 

So they show up on the Drake’s doorstep after Dick and Bruce pick Barbara up from her house. They call Tim and Tim peeps from his mother’s dress. He’s so small that he managed to disappear by burying himself in Janet’s long skirt. Barbara’s heart squeezes by his microscopicness, she looks to Dick to see if he agrees with the adorableness, but he’s frozen. Barbara nudges him and he snaps out of it, flashing one of his charming smiles to the kid and his parents. The parents say their goodbyes and leave with their luggage. 

So now Dick and Barbara are alone with little Tim in a huge house.

~

I should really title the untitled documents but, meh, cant bother to.

Anyway! I hope u liked the idea, I'm turning red from the ask, thanks again.

#quotidian asks #quotidian writes #quotidian fics #tim drake #kid tim drake #dick grayson #teen dick grayson #barbara gordon #teen barbara gordon #bruce wayne #jack drake #janet drake #jack and janet drake #asks #wip tag game #tag game #babysitting #dick grayson babysits tim drake #im just now realizing how excited i am to be writing this #its sooo adorable #also #i gained some inspiration from the babysitters club graphic novel series #my sister LOVES them #dont tell her but so do i

[eyes-of-mischief]

weekly fic recs | 8

prompt: harry potter au/crossover

fandoms: aftg, bnha, dc, merlin, orv, tw, yoi

aftg

Minyards' Magical Mischief by moonix

(mature)

“No,” Aaron said. “Andrew, no.”

They locked eyes, and for a moment it was like they were eleven again, catching sight of each other for the first time across a crowded train platform.

“I confess,” Andrew said tonelessly, “to the murder of Drake Spear.”

(Or: an Auror and a murderer walk into an ice-cream parlour.)

bnha

Bend Before You Break by orkestrations

When Izuku set out for his morning run, the last thing he was expecting was to be plucked from his own world by magic and thrown into another universe entirely.

Removed from his own conflict and with no way back, he sets himself to figuring out this world and its own incipient war while searching for a way to possibly reverse the spell that brought him here.

It's just his luck that the year he arrives is the same year the government decides it's a great idea to bring back the potentially-deadly tournament.

dc

Scientific Method by vogon_poet

It’s not like he’s surprised a magic school exists— that’s probably only a seven on the scale of “crazy things Tim Drake has seen”. No, Tim’s just surprised he’s enrolled.

Point That Wand at Me and See What Happens by widdlewed

During Harry Potter's fourth year, Hogwarts gained two new additions to its hallways that no one will soon forget. Damian Wayne is feared to be the next Dark Lord rising while Dick Grayson gains a fanbase larger than Professor Lockhart. Between dealing with dreams of Voldemort and the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Harry doesn't have time to deal with alter-ego heroes and the drama they bring with them.

Also, what the fuck is up with the rumors of Professor Grayson's ass?

merlin

In Which There's a Teacher at Hogwarts That Doesn't Enable Casual Racism by stellaisnotamermaid

Merlin had been having dreams for a while—nightmares that surrounded his unconscious. He knew they were somehow connected to a prophecy he'd found about the Dark Lord and the Chosen One. He'd wanted to join in to help fight in the war, but the Old Religion held him at bay, forcing him to wait. Then, on July 31st, 1980, everything went silent. It took eleven months, but he was finally able to join in.

(Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone but with Merlin)

Emrys Ascending by tricksterity

In the depths of the Crystal of Neahtid, Merlin sees the resurrection of Lord Voldemort, an event that will tip the balance of the world so far out that only he has the power to intervene and set it right, or stop it from ever happening. For that, he'll have to pose as a student and attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The only problem is, he's been chosen instead of Cedric Diggory as a Triwizard Champion, and there's a recently reborn Arthur Pendragon in Gryffindor House.

orv

"the only good thing about you is your owl," says kim dokja, the owl, after complimenting literally everything about him. by RenderedReversed

The thing about being the Chosen One’s owl is that everyone is after your damn mail.

Or, in which Kim Dokja is Yoo Joonghyuk's post owl, and this ironically does not make their ability to communicate any better.

tw

Untamed by rosepetals42

Of course, the transfer kid gets mentioned because transfers are rare, but the news isn’t that exciting. In fact, according to Laura, no one even seems to know his first name. The only thing anyone has really figured out about him is that he’s American. And that’s not exactly hard because he obviously has an accent.

The only thing Derek really knows is that, despite other reports, he seems quiet enough, prefers to work alone, and has the most amazing shade of amber eyes that Derek has ever seen.

Not that he’s looking. Obviously.

OR: A Harry Potter AU where Stiles is a Slytherin transfer student and Derek is the grumpy Gryffindor who falls in love with him.

There are also potions, elves, and falcons involved. Oh, and illegal use of magic. Obviously.

yoi

Entwining Fates by rinsled05

Imagine if Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after the demise of you-know-who, started accepting foreign students in an effort for greater unity among wizarding communities around the world. Imagine that, in this changing climate of diversity and social acceptance, Hogwarts also decided to host an exchange programme with select students from Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for a semester.

Imagine, then, if a young Japanese wizard by the name of Yuuri Katsuki had transferred to Hogwarts to escape his past, just in time to meet a Russian Quidditch player who would blow open the very doors he was trying so desperately to close.

A story of love, magic, and teenagers trying to find themselves.

#weekly fic recs #prompt #harry potter au/crossover #aftg fic recs #bnha fic recs #dc fic recs #merlin fic recs #hp fic recs #tw fic recs #yoi fic recs #orv fic recs #believe it or not the reason why i first got into ao3 was cause all the pjo/hp crossovers were cross-posted here #also these are all pretty popular except for a few i’m sorry- #i try to avoid the hp fandom so i’m really not that deep in

[americancowgirl19]

Expendable

Summary: Consumed by your grief over Jason’s death, you track down the Joker on your own. Only you end up finding some... thing very different.

Warnings: vampires, violence, depression, fluff, angst

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader (Platonic), Jason Todd x Reader (Platonic), Tim Drake x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 6,113

A/n: Enjoy

Masterlist

You heaved heavily hunched over the bathroom sink. Your fingers grip the edge of the counter top, knuckles turning white. Your eyes are screwed shut as you try not fall apart for the millionth time that week.

It’s only been a month since Jason died and you felt as if you saw his freshly dead body a few hours ago. Your dreams are riddled with nightmares. You can’t even escape the thoughts while awake.

All you can think about is Jason’s beaten and burned body. You can hear the Jokers mocking laugh when you and Batman found him after Jason’s death. Bruce refused to kill him and stopped you from doing it yourself. Batman turned him into Arkham and like everyone could predict, the pale bastard escaped.

Slowly, your eyes open. You look at yourself in the mirror. You try to push back the tears as visions of Jason plague your mind. 

You were Bruce’s daughter. You were a few years younger than Dick but a few years older than Jason. You and Dick had a rocky friendship the first couple of years but you managed to work it out. With Jason, however, the connection was instant.

The both of you had tempers. Tempers which the other knew how to calm. The two of you just had an understanding. You became close quickly. 

You didn’t want to believe that Jason was dead. You didn’t want to believe that Bruce just let Joke get away with it. You wanted your brother back, you wanted Bruce to avenge him.

“I’m sorry, Jason,” You whisper. You wished you could have been there to save Jason. If only you had gotten to him sooner. Just 5 minutes would have made all the difference.

Your anger bubbles up to the surface all at once and before you know it, your punching the mirror until it’s all broken in the bathroom sink. Ignoring the stinging pain in your hand, you march out of the bathroom.

You storm out of your room and head toward the Batcave. You didn’t have to worry about running into your father. He’s either hiding in his room or out capturing other bad guys that have nothing to do with Jason’s death. Because apparently everyone else mattered while you, Dick and Jason were expendable.

Not to you, however. Your brothers were not expendable to you. They’re your world and the fact that you couldn’t protect Jason killed you. If Bruce wasn’t going to avenge him then that responsibility fell onto you.

You changed into your Sparrow uniform. By the time your pulling your mask on and making your way to your motorcycle, Alfred is entering the cave. You ignore him but he isn’t a man you can just ignore.

“Ms. Y/n?” He questions. You adjust your getup and swing your leg over the bike. Before you can turn the bike on, the man you’re closer to than your own father appears before you. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” You answer. He gives you a look but you don’t back down.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He advises.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for permission,” You snap. “Why don’t you go tend to daddy dearest and let me do what needs to be done?” Alfred looks even more concerned as you turn the bike on. You don’t allow yourself to feel guilty for being rude to Alfred. You have to stay focused.

You speed away from the manor and toward Gotham City. The Joker could be in a number of places but you knew who to ask to narrow down his location.

Before Jason’s death, you weren’t as ruthless as you were now. You were a happy medium between Bruce’s temperament and Jason’s. But now, you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. 

You wanted blood.

You interrogated bad guy after bad guy. You left each of them in the streets, inches from death like the scum they were. You felt no sympathy for them as they struggled to breathe. You ignored their pleas for mercy and for help as you walked to your bike to find your next target.

You were so consumed on what you were doing and your goal to find the Joker that you didn’t realize you were being watched. And Bruce wasn’t the one stalking you.

“Where’s the Joker?!” You shouted before slamming your fist into the guys face. “Tell me!” You screamed. He grunted when you resorted to breaking his rips with your foot. You kicked him before he rolled onto his back prompting you to switch to stomping on his chest.

“Oh, you poor child,” A voice sounded from the shadows. In an instant, you whip the gun you had stolen out of the thigh holster and point it into the dark blindly.

“Show yourself,” You demand. You listen to the steps before a tall man comes into the moonlight. “Who are you?” You ask.

“Someone who can help you,” Your head tilts. “You can put that gun away, it cannot harm me.” He states.

“Who. Are. You?” 

“As I said, I’m someone who can help,” He says, sauntering closer to you. Your eyes narrow at him. “I know where the Joker is, I can take you to him,”

“Where is he?”

“I’ll tell you, but that information isn’t free,” He shakes his head.

“Tell me or you’ll end up like this deadbeat,” You motion to the man on the ground that’s slowly choking on his own blood. The man in front of you looks at him and smirks.

“You surely have potential... and you certainly have anger. Oh, so much anger,” He whispers coming forward. “You live on the need for vengeance. I can give it to you and so much more. All I want is to make a deal,”

“What kind of deal?” You ask, tilting your head. 

“I give you the Joker, and you give me your allegiance,” He says, stepping up to the end of the barrel of the gun. If you pull the trigger, the bullet goes straight through his heart.

“My allegiance?” You ask, slowly.

“You get the chance to finally sate your need for vengeance and you work for me.”

You stare into his eyes for a few moments before lowering your gun to the holster. He smirks and scoops you into his arms. Before you can ask a question he’s running at a speed that could outmatch the Flash.

“What the fuck?” You gasp when he comes to a stop and sets you down. “You’re a metahuman?”

“Not exactly,” He smirks. “I’ll explain everything once you’re finished. Inside is the Joker along with a lot of his friends. If you survive, you’ll be an excellent addition to my collection,” He states, prior to running off.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” You mutter to yourself. Sighing, you turn towards the building. A moment later, people start coming out. Large men in suits. They stop and look at you. A few draw their weapons. You smirk. “Who’s first?”

It took you a half an hour to reach the Joker. You’re not sure if you killed anyone, although it’s highly likely that you have. By the time you reach the pale skin fucker you’re covered in blood and bruises (maybe a bullet hole or two). Some of the blood is yours but most of it isn’t.

The Joker talks. He’s taunting you. Yet, you don’t really hear what he says. As you look at him, your mind is filled with images of Jason’s dead body. You stalk closer to him. 

You put your weapons away and pick up the crowbar you had found on a lower level. You had set it down in order to take care of the goons in the room quickly. 

But now you had the Joker right where you wanted him. You weren’t going to make this quick. Every time you brought the crowbar down on him, he only cackled loudly. Every strike just fueled your anger. 

You continued to beat him. At some point, his skull caved in but you continued to swing. You scream, tears falling down your face but you hardly notice. You just swing and swing until you collapse on the ground.

You let out one large, loud scream that echoes throughout the entire building. When you quiet down, your body curls into a tight ball and you begin to sob.

“Easy now, little one,” The inhuman man whispers, kneeling before you. “I’ll take your pain away,” He promises, picking you off the ground. “Rest now, I’ll look after you,” He whispers, racing you out of the building seconds before Batman shows up.

You don’t know how long you’re asleep, but when you wake up everything is different. You sit up from the unusually comfortable bed and look around. You don’t recognize where you are but at the moment it’s the least of your worries.

You never had absolutely perfect vision but now you’re eyes were acting like binoculars. You could see a far distance out the window and everything in clear detail that’s around you. Hell, you could even hear the cars going down the road miles from the house you’re in.

You move closer to the window but stop at the sound of the man who had taken you. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” You spin around toward him. You frown your eyebrows and look back to the window. You didn’t understand what he was warning you about. 

You soon find out when you step into the sunlight and find your skin heating up until it begins to burn. You gasp and speed to the other side of the room.

“What’s happening to me?” You whisper, watching your skin begin to blister. 

“Here, drink this,” He tosses you a bag. Your reflexes catch it. You want to ask what it is but your instincts take over as the smell reaches your nose. Within a minute, you have the bag drained of it’s liquid. 

When your done drinking, you look at the man. He nods to your arm and your eyes widen. You see your arm heal until there’s no trace of what had happened.

“Come, we have a lot to talk about,” You follow him down the hall. “My name is Vladimir but you may know me as Dracula,”

“Dracula?” You deadpan. “For real?”

“What? You do not believe that vampires are real? Even though you are one?” You stop walking. He stops as well and turns to you. “You are the daughter of Bruce Wayne, The Batman, you should be able to connect the dots,”

The blood, the enhanced senses, the vulnerability to light. You didn’t know how it was possible, but it was true. You were a vampire. You had made a deal with the devil... But oh, was it worth it.

****

“Whe-where am I?” A pale, redhead whimpers.

“Vicki Vale,” You state from the shadows. Your voice echoes off the walls making it impossible for her to pinpoint where you are. “So, you’re the one that’s obsessed with my father,” You growled. For a long time, the woman in front of you reported on both Bruce Wayne and Batman. She wrote article after article about him.

“Who are you?” She asks, in a shaky voice.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s not me you have to worry about,” You assure her, a smirk dancing on your lips.

“Alright, Y/n, that’s enough,” Vlad says coming into the room. Vicki gasps and turns to him. “Oh, you are beautiful,” Vlad whispers. “You will work perfectly,”

“Wh-what?” She whimpers, shying away from him.

“Y/n, leave Vicki to rest in peace, we have things to discuss,” Vlad calmly orders before turning to leave the room. You come out of the shadows, smirking when you startle her.

“So, she’ll work?” You ask him, the two of you walking toward his office.

“Yes, but we must move quickly. Your father and brother are causing trouble,” He tells you. Your head tilts at the information.

“They’ve killed more of your vampires?” You ask him.

“They found a way to cure them,” Vlad corrects you. “I need you to end them. I can’t afford to lose anymore vampires and I will not let them stop me from bringing Carmilla back,” He growls.

“Don’t worry, master, I’ll stop them,” You promise.

“I don’t want you to just stop them,” Vlad says, moving closer to you. “I want them dead and I want you to bring me their bodies. Do not fail me,” He growls.

“Have I ever?” You ask, smirking.

“Be quick about it,” Vlad orders. “The sun will be up in a few hours,”

****

“Viki Vale has gone missing,” Bruce informs Dick and Tim as he enters the Batcave. 

“Dracula?” Dick asks, crossing his arms in his Nightwing costume. His mask resting on the desk by Tim.

“He’s planning something. More and more people are being turned, we have to stop him before we’re too outnumbered.” Bruce says.

“Reports are coming in about a string of animal like murders in the Narrows. Fits vampire descriptions,” Tim says, reading the reports off the computer.

“Can you get a read on how many vampires there could be?” Dick asks.

“Doesn’t seem like a lot,” Tim mutters. “One, possibly two,”

“Let’s check it out,” Bruce orders. Tim nods standing up. He and Dick pull their masks on. Tim and Bruce get in the batmobile while Duke powers up the motorcycle. They both drive to the Narrows to investigate.

****

You hide in the shadows as the infamous Batman, Robin and Nightwing appear. You glare at the young Robin boy. Of course Bruce replaced Jason. It was typical for Bruce to replace someone. Fury fills your heart but you manage to control it knowing that if you waited a little longer, you would get the opportunity to unleash hell.

You didn’t want to hurt Dick. He’s your brother. But you didn’t have a choice. Vlad ordered you to kill them and that’s what you had to do. You wouldn’t necessarily take pleasure in killing your father and his newest protégé. However, you hoped that with Bruce’s death you would finally feel at peace with yourself.

You killed the Joker but your anger remained. You killed Jason’s bitch of a mother yet storm within you continued to rage. Maybe with the death of Batman you would finally know peace and tranquility. You didn’t blame Bruce for Jason’s death but you hated that he didn’t avenge him. You hated that he replaced him. That hatred mixed with your growing anger consumed you.

“This one’s still alive,” Dick announced, kneeling beside a woman. Bruce moved to kneel beside him while Tim wandered off. You smirked and followed him. You made some noise to draw him further from the others.

“You’re the new Robin, hmm?” You asked. Tim looked around. Technically, Tim wasn’t new. He had been at this for a couple of years now but you aren’t exactly up to date on the world around you. You’ve been training and isolated from the world for a long time. So, while Tim isn’t exactly new, he’s new to you.

He took a defensive stance but it wouldn’t do any good against you. You could kill him with a flick of your finger.

“We can help you,” Tim says, his eyes searching for you. “You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to be a vampire,”

“Oh, but I want to be,” You smirk, walking around him but continued to stay out of sight. Tim looks confused by your statement.

“We have a cure,” Tim states. You sneak up behind him.

“I don’t want it,” You whisper, in his ear. By the time he spins around, you’re out of sight. You grin, loving the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. “Tell me, what do you know about the Robin before you?”

“What?” Tim asks, tensing.

“You’re not Jason Todd,” You growl. Tim becomes increasingly more nervous. “So, may I know the name of his replacement?” You spit. He doesn’t answer you. “Fine, don’t answer, doesn’t matter anyway,” 

Tim tenses as things fall eerily silent. He goes to fall for back up but before he can finish the first syllable he’s lifted off the ground. You hand becomes tighter and tighter around his throat.

“You’re not Jason and you will never be him,” You growl, glaring at him. Tim choke, gripping your wrist but your grip doesn’t falter. His eyes widen a fraction as he recognizes you.

All throughout the mansion there’s picture of you. Dick talks about you all the time. He knows who you are but he can’t believe it. Bruce assumed you were dead, Dick insisted you were just missing. For nearly 7 years Dick worked to find you. Almost every spare moment went into finding some clue about you but you had vanished. 

“If you were,” You smirked. “You would have been able to take me down... You’re pathetic... Weak,” You bring him closer to your face. He struggles to breathe, looking even more terrified when your fangs extend. “And I’m so hungry,” 

Before you can feed on him, you’re knocked to the ground. You let Tim go as you tumble away. The boy collapses on the ground, coughing and struggling to breath in.

“Has anyone ever told you not to get between a vampire and her meal?” You growled, standing up. You turn to the man who had tackled you and smirked. There, only two feet away, is your older brother.

“Y/n,” Dick whispers, his defenses falling.

“Hey, big brother,” You wink. You take advantage of his astonishment and attack. You don’t even realize it but you’re holing back. You’re not going as fast as you could nor are you striking with all your strength. Hell, you’re barely hitting him with 20% power.

“Y/n! Stop! This isn’t you!” Dick shouts but you don’t listen to him. You grab his shoulders and fling him into a nearby wall. He collapses and struggles to breath.

“I’m not you’re little sister, anymore Dickie Poo,” You say, stalking up to him. “And all you are to me is a meal,”

“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?” Dick groaned pushing himself up. You freeze for just a moment but Dick notices it.

“What can I say? I’ve always liked playing with my food,” You growled, trying to cover up your hesitance.

“You’ve always been a shit liar, sis,” Dick teases. You hiss as he stands. “You’ll always be my baby sister, you’re just more of a pain in my ass right now,” He smirks putting up his hands. “And you hit like a bitch,”

Crying out, you attack Dick once again. This time you hold back even less but you’re still not aiming to kill him. It angers you as you hear Vlad’s comment in the back of your mind. Your vampiric instincts are fighting against your humanity. 

Just when you’re about to give into your inclination to follow your masters orders a batarang sinks into your arm. It snaps you out of your instinctual daze. You look at it before following it’s path. You’re eyes land on Batman. For the first time in years you stare into your fathers eyes.

Before anything can happen, something catches your attention. You turn your head and watch the sun begin to peak over the buildings. You’re out of time.

“Wait!” Dick shouts reaching for you but you’re already gone.

****

You stand in front of Vlad for a solid five minutes. Five minutes of absolute silence. Intense, awkward, silence. You barely have the strength to hold his gaze for these few minutes but know if you look away you’ll look weak.

“I told you not to fail me,” Vlad tells you.

“I underestimated the skill of-”

“You’re a vampire!” Vlad shouts. It takes everything in you to not flinch. “You have the strength of a hundred men! I could possibly forgive you not being able to defeat your father, I failed that as well. However, you couldn’t kill an 18 year-old boy? Or your older brother?” Vlad asks, walking toward you.

“My humanity got in the way,” Vlad backhands you harshly.

“Your humanity,” Vlad says slowly. “For 6 year I’ve been working so hard to perfect you and yet here you are, a disappointment.” He spits.

“I’ll make it up to you,” You promise.

“You will,” Vlad nods, walking back to his seat. “And if you fail me again. I will rip your heart out,” You bow to him. “Wait for my word in your room,”

“Yes, master,” 

****

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tim asks, his voice horas. You had bruise his throat pretty good. It was a miracle he was able to talk at all at the moment.

“If anyone is going to get through to her, it’s him,” Dick assures him. Tim presses his lips together and follows his brother into the worn down building.

“How do we know he’ll even help?” Tim wonders.

“Because it’s Y/n,” Dick answers simply. Tim glances at him but says nothing else.

“You’ve got a lot of balls to come here, Dick,” Tim and Dick spin around to face Red Hood. Tim is in a defensive stance remembering the last time they had crossed paths. Red Hood and him fought, Tim barely escaping hospital time.

“Relax,” Dick mutters to Tim.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” He asks, looking around for Batman.

“Bruce isn’t here... It’s just us,” Dick assures him. They stare at each other for a moment before he takes off his red mask. “Jason,” Dick nods. Jason ignores the greeting and walks around them to get to his stuff. “Y/n’s alive,” Jason freezes completely. “We saw her a few hours ago,”

“Where?” Jason asks, keeping his back to them.

“Have you come across any vampires?” Dick asks. Jason turns to them.

“They’ve been crawling around town like cockroaches,” Jason says.

“Y/n’s one of them,” Dick tells him. “She attacked us a few hours ago. She tried to kill us but didn’t follow through.”

“We think that she still has some humanity left,” Tim says.

“I know she’s still in there.” Dick insists. “She could have very easily killed Tim and I but she held back,” Jason looks at the bruise around Tim’s throat. 

“She still mourns you,” Tim tells him. “If she knew you were alive, maybe we can get her back. If we can get her back to the mansion, we can cure her,”

****

“Everything is in place,” Vlad says. You stand in the background watching him. On the tables in the middle of the room lay two women. One is Vlad’s beloved Carmilla. The other is Viki Vale. The plan was to transfer Viki’s life essence into Carmilla to bring her back to life.

“Master,” A newly turned vampire interrupts. Vlad turns to her. “Batman, Robin and Nightwing have arrived.” Vlad snarls and turns to you.

“They must not stop the transference,” Vlad tells you.

“I will kill them once and for all master,” You vow.

“Kill the Batman, capture Robin and Nightwing. Take them to my office and keep them there,” Vlad orders. You tilt your head but nod.

“As you wish,” You bow and exit the room. You hunt down the three men but only find two of them; Dick and Tim. “I see your stubbornness has only increased with age,” You state standing at one end of the hall while they stand on the other. They look a little worn down but you can tell they still have plenty of energy.

“Guess I spent too much time around you as kids,” Dick shrugs, twirling his batons. 

“You should have stayed away,” You tell them, cursing yourself for how soft your voice had gotten. Your humanity, yet again, was showing. You pushed it back and locked it in a box but the little slip up was enough to confirm to both Dick and Tim that you could still be saved.

“You’ve been gone a long time, little sister,” Dick states. “It’s time to bring you home,”

“This is home,” You hiss. Dick shakes his head.

“This is a prison,” Dick corrects you. You smirk.

“You once said the same about Wayne Manor,” You remind him. You stare at him and your eyes flicker to Tim. “Join me,” You suggest. “We can give you the power you can only dream of,” You say, stepping closer to him. “We can be a family again,” You whisper, your humanity coming up once more. You allow it, for now.

“We can be a family,” Dick agrees. You perk slightly. “When you’re cured and back at the Manor,” Your face turns sour.

“Fuck the Manor,” You spat. “Fuck Bruce and Fuck Batman,” You hiss. “You think he cares?”

“He does!” Tim snaps. You laugh.

“Where did he pick you up from?” You ask Tim. “You must have a past. Bruce never takes in anybody mentally stable,”

“We’re not talking about that right now,” Dick cuts in. “If you don’t want to go to the manor, fine. Come with me,” Dick suggests. “I have an apartment in Bludhaven. You can stay with me... It’ll be like old times,” You’re so tempted to give in.

“I can’t,” You shake your head. “This is who I am now, this is where I belong,”

“No, you belong with us,” Dick insists.

“I haven’t belonged with you in years,” You mutter but he hears it. “I’m happy to see you alive, Dick... But you really should have stayed away,” You said, your voice hardening.

“We don’t have to do this,” Dick says. He and Tim fall into a defensive stance.

“I won’t go back,” You tell him. “Not with you, not with him and certainly not with Bruce,” You growl. “Why can’t you see that you’re not worth anything to him! All you are is an expendable tool! He’ll just replace you when you’re done being useful to him,”

“That’s a lie!” Tim shouts.

“Oh really?” You ask. “Then why are you standing here? Tell me, how long did he wait to replace Jason with you?” You wonder. “You’re nothing to him and when you die, he’ll move on like he always does and not give you a second thought!”

“You’re head is twisted, Y/n! You’re blinded by hatred and anger and grief, let us help you!” Dick pleads.

“No, I don’t need your help,” You growl racing toward them. Tim and Dick put up a good fight but you were done letting your humanity control you. Before they could pull any fancy tricks like they used to stop the other vampires, you knocked them out cold. Grabbing them by their collars you drag them to Vlad’s office. You lock them inside before hunting down your father.

You find him in the transference room fighting Vlad. You quickly join your master. With the both of you fighting against Batman, you’re beginning to overpower him. Until he uses a UV light which causes you and Vlad to scream in pain. When it’s gone, you slowly begin to heal.

“No! No! No!” Vlad screams seeing Vicki has disappeared before the transference  could complete. “NO!” You force yourself to a stand. You gasp when Vlad appears before you and grabs you by the throat. You struggle against him but he’s a great deal stronger than you. “I told you to kill him!” He snarls. You try to talk but he’s crushing your windpipe. “You’ve failed me for the last time,” He goes to rip your heart out when he’s pull away from you.

You fall to the ground and shake the dizziness from your head. You look up and see a grappling hook in Vlad’s chest. A man by the door holds the string and continues to pull Vlad from you until he gets his footing and yanks the man to him. You watch as Vlad throws him across the room.

“You vigilantes are a disease,” Vlad growls stalking toward him. You force yourself to stand. You feel your thirst begin to rise as your healing completes. 

Fresh blood gains your attention. You turn to the door seeing Dick and Tim at the entrance. You figured you had the guy in the red mask to thank for their escape

“Ah, look at this,” Vlad claps his hands. “A family reunion,” The red mask guy pushes himself up, grimacing at the pain in his back. “If you want another chance to live, Y/n,” Vlad turns toward you. “I want you to kill your brothers,”

You turn to Dick and Tim. They’re eyeing you as you eye them. The human voice in your head gets smaller and smaller as your animal instincts and need for blood overcome you.

“Kill them,” Vlad orders. Unable to fight his order, you advance to Dick. You stop when a clunk of stone is throne at your head. It doesn’t hurt you but it gets your attention. Your head snaps to the red mask guy with a growl.

“You on your period or something sis?” Your entire body freezes at the sound of his voice. No, it’s not possible. “You know how you get during that time of the month... I swear you turn into a fucking gremlin,” He raises his hands and takes the mask off. “Or, I guess, in this case a vampire,” Jason smirks.

“No,” You whisper shaking your head. “It’s not possible... You... you’re dead,”

“Didn’t stick,” He shrugs with that arrogant smirk of his. “Amazing what a Lazarus pit can do, huh?” Your breath hitches in your throat. It was possible.

“Y/n,” Vlad says regaining your attention instantly. “Kill. Them.” Your humanity vanished. With a hiss, you turn to attack Jason when Dick’s voice reaches your ears.

“You’re not expendable,” Dick states. You don’t look at him but it’s obvious you’re listening. “You mean so much more to us. We’re here for you and we’re not leaving without you. You’re one of us, not this creature he’s turned you in,”

“You know how much I hate agree with Dickwad,” Jason chuckles. “But on this, I do. Look, we’ve both changed over the years and that’s fine but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re brothers and you’re our sister. You went against father and killed the Joker for me. You beat the shit out of that one girl that cheated on Dick. You’ve stood up against Bruce for both of us on more than one occasion. You’ve always been there but now we’re here for you. It’s time to come home. Come with us,”

“Kill them!” Vlad shouts. Your eyes screw shut as you struggle between obeying Vlad and listening to your brothers. Realization hits Tim like a freight train.

“Don’t listen to him!” Tim encourages you. It finally made sense. All the vampires they came across were unnaturally loyal to Dracula. It was like they had forgotten their human lives and followed him. He figured it was just instinct but it was something more than that. Vampires were connected to their creator, Dracula, on a level they had severely underestimated. Tim theorized that Dracula had gotten to you, changed you, and manipulated/forced you to follow him. You had to follow his orders but that didn’t mean you wanted to.

You showed multiple signs of humanity. Dick and Jason were you’re anchors to your human side. If you could fight against Dracula’s orders then you could sever the connection. If that happened, getting you back to the manor and cured would be much easier.

“He’s the one who doesn’t care! He’s the one who believes you’re expendable, not us! We care about you, we’ll help you but you have to break his hold over you!” Tim said as clearly but as quickly as he could.

“Shut up!” Vlad shouted turning toward him. Before he could attack, Jason launches a wooden stake at him. It doesn’t kill him but it knocks them to the ground. “Kill them, Y/n! Kill them right now!”

You groan. Your hands grip your hair and begin to pull. You felt as if your head was being torn apart. You fall to your knees. A large part of you wanted to kill them, needed to kill them. Yet a big enough part of you didn’t.

“Y/n,” Jason says, softly. He slowly knelt a few feet in front of you. 

“Kill me,” You whimper, looking into his eyes. “I can’t hold myself back for long,”

“You can,” Jason encourages you. “You’re not going to hurt me, Dick or Tiny Tim,” Tim scowls but remains silent. “You’re Y/n Y/L/N. You were turned when you were 18 years old but you’re 24. You’re favorite food is y/f/f and your favorite show is y/f/s. You always let me sneak into your room if I was having trouble sleeping and you always helped me through the bad days just like I did for you. We look after each other, we have since we met each other. That didn’t stop when I died and it isn’t going to stop since you’re a vampire,”

In the corner of your eye you see Dick and Tim going to end Vlad. Something within you snaps. You snarl and before you know it you’re protecting your master. Before you can reach Dick and Tim, something pierces your shoulder. You look down to see a similar grappling hook hooked into you.

You gasp as Jason yank you back. You snarl and struggle but Jason is able to fight against you allowing Dick and Tim to destroy your master.

“No! NO!” You scream. The pain of your bond to Dracula is excoriating. You scream and writhe on the ground.

“It’s alright sis,” Jason whispers, knocking you out with a special tool they used on all the other vampires. “You’re safe now,” He whispers picking you up. “How do we cure her?”

“We have a serum at the manor,” Tim says,

“Bring it to my place,” Jason ordered. Tim goes to argue but Dick lays a hand on his shoulder. Dick nods and Jason nods back.

****

When you wake up you have the worst hangover known to man. You groan, your hand slapping your forehead. You try to think about what could have given you this feeling but you get nothing. Until everything comes rushing back to you a minute later.

All the killings, Dracula and the whole vampire ordeal hardly phases you. What makes your heart quench is the man you saw before you passed out.

“Jason!” You cry out, sitting up quickly. The motion causes you to groan again.

“Easy, easy,” You’re gently pushed back onto the bed. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” Opening your eyes, you look at Jason. You really look at him. He still has that spark, that anger in his eyes but there’s also relief and happiness. You lift your hand and gently caress his face. He leans into your touch.

“You’re real,” You whisper.

“Yeah, I’m real,” He whispers, tears coming to his eyes. “I thought I lost you there for a second,” He laughs.

“I did lose you,” You whimper. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” Jason gently pushes you over and climbs into the bed. You instantly hug him with all your might. “I’m here now and I won’t be leaving your side for a damn long time,”

“You saved me,” You whisper. “You, Dick and Tim,” You whimper the tears coming down your face.

“You just got a little lost for a while,” Jason muttered. “You would do the same if any one of us was in your position,” You nod, snuggling into his chest. He rubs circles into your back. “Everything’s going to be ok, now... You’re cured, Dracula’s dead and you’re with me,”

“Can I stay with you?” You whisper, looking up at him.

“I thought I told you that you weren’t leaving my side for a long time,” Jason smirks. “We have 6 years to catch up on and I need my big sis to keep my head on straight,”

“I need you too, Jason...” You whisper. “God, do I need you,” You snuggle back into his chest. He kisses the top of your head and holds you even tighter. “I was so lost without you,”

“Shh.. You don’t have to worry about living without me again,” Jason promises.

“Good... Because next time, you die I die,” Jason smirks.

“We’re going to be one kick ass team,” Jason mutters. You grin closing your eyes. The both of you got the first real sleep you had since Jason died.

#Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Richard Grayson #Robin #Batman #Nightwing #Red Hood #Tim Drake #Jason Todd x Reader #Dick Grayson x Reader #Tim Drake x Reader #Jason Todd x Female!reader #Dick Grayson x Female!reader #Tim Drake x Female!reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #female!reader #Vampire #x platonic!reader #platonic!reader #DC Comics #dc universe #Dracula #Joker #x sister!reader #Wayne!reader

[goulets]

Heartland

Chapter: 1/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

Jason looks down at the baby, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching the baby settle down to sleep. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

(colin)

It's a quarter past five and the first streams of daylight are curling over the horizon when Colin finally makes it back to the orphanage. He's down to his normal size, brass knuckles heavy in his pockets and slowing his already exhausted steps. It'll be at least three hours before the younger kids wake up; time enough to get one REM cycle in before he's got all those mouths to feed. Damian taught him about monitoring his REM cycles, how it's sometimes better to get three hours than four, how to stay sharp even when he's running on no sleep at all.

Even better, Dick once told him he's welcome at the manor anytime he needs to rest undisturbed, or a hot meal, or a 'flying lesson', whatever that means. Damian had thrown a batarang at his head when he'd suggested it, so Colin assumes it's some kind of inside joke. Regardless, he hasn't been back at the manor to take Dick up on his offer. Batman's back – the real Batman – and Colin would be the worst kind of liar if he said he wasn't a little bit terrified to face him, considering the circumstances of their first meeting.

A motion in the alley next to the orphanage catches his eye, and he stills. Vagrants don't usually start coming around until the soup kitchen opens, and all the thugs he's used to dealing with tend to wait until the kids are up to start messing with them. That's why Colin likes the walk back from patrol, despite his tiredness, despite the chill that rolls off the ever-present fog. The city's glow is muted at this hour, its inhabitants either just starting to stir or just turning in. He's alone with the smog and the molten aura of the streetlights, and there's a quiet about it all that makes even the bloodstains on his knuckles feel pure, purposeful.

That said, he really does need to invest in some gloves.

The figure in the alley is still moving, clumsy and hurried, and all at once Colin realizes what it is they're fumbling with. There's a sort of house-shaped capsule outside St. Aden's, a narrow chute with a small door that doesn't have a lock, and a weathered sign on the front that depicts the outline of an infant. It's a Safe Surrender site, a place where people can legally abandon their newborns, and someone is using it for the first time since Colin's been at the orphanage.

He creeps closer, keeping to the shadows.

The figure spends about five more seconds fumbling with something on the ground, then wrenches open the door to the capsule and deposits something inside. Colin's stomach twists; the blue light above the capsule illuminates, and he can hear a faint alarm going off in the nuns' office. He wonders if they'll even know what it's for. The figure startles at the light, hastily grabs what looks like an empty bag off the ground, and bolts.

Colin wants to follow, but finds himself unable to walk past the capsule without checking it, and once he sees what's inside, he knows there's no chance of him giving chase. The baby is sleeping, definitely not a newborn, but not more than a few months old. Its tiny body is wrapped in a dirty blanket, wisps of black hair sticking out from an unprotected head. Colin supposes he wouldn't have needed to pursue whoever dropped it off; for all intents and purposes, they might think they're doing the right thing. St. Aden's won't turn the baby away, and it's a better option than leaving it in a gutter or a dumpster, which, in Gotham, is not a thing unheard of.

The baby stirs as a stiff breeze swirls through the alley, making Colin shiver. The nuns will be dressed and out in five minutes, give or take. They'll at least put a hat on the baby, Colin thinks. He doesn't know much about babies, but he knows they need hats. The orphanage has baby hats, and diapers, and blankets, albeit thin ones, most with holes. They might even have a spare teddy bear for when the baby has nightmares. No one comforts you when you have nightmares at St. Aden's. The nuns aren't big on hugs, even the babies they hold as little as possible.

Colin may not know a lot about babies, but he knows what happens when you don't hold them. The kids at the orphanage who've been there since infancy are a testament to that. Colin shivers again, thinking of vacant eyes and hunched shoulders. Pale skin and raw voices. Underdeveloped, broken bodies, floating in the river.

The light in the nuns' office comes on. Less than a minute now. Before he can fully process what he's doing or why he's doing it, Colin scoops the baby out of the capsule and cradles it carefully in his arms, walking briskly out of the alley the way that he came. The fog feels damper; it clings to him like it means to shield him from view. As an afterthought, Colin takes off his own hat and uses it to cover the baby's head.

***

“What is so urgent,” Damian snarls, swinging into the garage and making Colin jump and almost topple over, “that it couldn't wait at six in the fucking morning?”

Moving past his initial alarm, Colin feels relief wash over him at seeing his friend. Damian is decked out in his Robin costume and, all things considered, no grumpier than usual. “I'm so glad you're here,” he says in a rush. “I think – I think I screwed up, and I don't know what to do. Um.”

He decides not to draw it out, and instead steps aside, gesturing to the side compartment of his motorcycle. The baby is still sound asleep; he's wrapped his jacket around it as well. He won't die from the cold, but he worries that the baby might.

“What the – ” Damian blinks at the sleeping infant, then points to Colin without looking away. “Explain.”

Colin does. “And I thought if I called you, you might know what to...because you and Batman have handled this kind of stuff, right? You know who to, um.” He pauses, and realizes that he doesn't actually know why his first instinct was to call Damian, aside from the fact that he really has no one else to call. He wraps his arms around himself and lets out a short breath. “What do we do?”

“There's no 'we',” Damian says automatically, just like Colin knew he would. “You can't take care of a baby. You're ten. You have to put it back.”

Colin doesn't move. He knows Damian is probably right. “I just,” he starts to say, searching for the words. He's so tired he can barely think straight. “I guess I wanted it to have a chance. You know? Kids at the orphanage...kids like me, we don't get a lot of choices. Everyone ends up being a bad guy or a victim.” He swallows. “We don't need any more of either in this town.”

Damian scowls and rubs at his mask absently. “You're not either one of those things.”

Colin look at his fist and squeezes it, concentrating. Within a minute, his forearm is as big around as his leg. “No, I'm not,” he says. Damian has gone very still. Colin closes his eyes and feels his way back to his normal size, flexing his hand once it's shrunk back down. “Not anymore.”

“I – ” Damian cuts himself off, clenching his jaw. “Fine. We'll take it back to the manor. We have to go now, before they realize I'm gone.”

Colin bites back a grin and scoops the baby up, cradling its head carefully against his chest. The baby's face isn't cold anymore, which gives him an unexpected surge of elation, and he practically skips to Damian's side, earning a severely reproachful look from his friend.

“How did you get here?”

“I swiped Father's keys,” Damian says dryly, holding them out and pressing a button. Brilliant headlights illuminate the alley outside the garage, and Colin's jaw drops as a sleek, two-door Batmobile pulls up in front of them.

“How did – ”

“Remote autopilot. It drives itself.”

“Whoa.”

Damian rolls his eyes and presses another button, making the roof retract halfway. He swings in over the door and says, “Don't scratch the interior.”

Colin slides in beside him, awestruck. He's in the freaking Batmobile. If everything under the sun goes wrong with this sort-of kidnapping, even if he winds up in jail, it'll be so worth it.

***

(jason)

Jason's not having a particularly good day.

Scratch that, it's nine in the morning, and Jason's already not having a particularly good day.

“Where did you say you heard this?” Bruce asks, frowning at his computer screen. Translation: which parts of this are you lying about, Jason?

“Oh, you know,” Jason says, not caring to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Me and some of my League buddies were doing tapas over at Ocho, and you know how they get when the wine starts pouring.” Bruce glares at him, and he glares right back. “All I know is Shiva's overseas for the foreseeable future. Just thought I'd share, since I heard you were looking. But whatever you want her for, I'm telling you, she probably didn't do it. This time.”

Bruce stares at him, cold and still as a statue. Jason wants to hit himself. Idiot move, coming here. Not like the Great Bat Detective needs his legwork anyhow.

He squares his shoulders and says, “Hey, take it or leave it. Which, speaking of, I'm gonna go ahead and leave now.”

Bruce's silence follows him out, and Jason practices the tried-and-true strategy of stirring up old resentments to mask the hurt. Not like he'd expected old Batsy to fall all over himself with excitement on account of a visit from his fallen son, but there's a cold reception, and there's the patented Bruce Wayne Freeze-Out. If Jason had imagined their shared history of returning from the dead would bring them closer together, he'd been sorely mistaken.

“Will you be joining us for breakfast, Master Jason?” Alfred asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel as Jason attempts to hustle past the kitchen. Habit has him pausing, because you just don't blow off Alfred, and that small hesitation is all it takes for the smells wafting out of the kitchen to hit him head-on. And oh, do they hit him. Pancakes, eggs, bacon – turkey bacon, Jason's favorite, of course Alfred remembers that stupid little detail. He probably also remembers that Jason is pathologically incapable of refusing food. Bastard.

“I'm not really – ” he starts to say hungry, but his stomach picks that exact moment to let loose a traitorous growl that echoes down the hallway and probably wakes up any still-asleep inhabitants of the manor.

Alfred, to his everlasting credit, doesn't even flinch. Jason heaves a sigh. “Yeah, all right. Just a bite, I guess.”

“I'll set a place for you.” Like the old man hasn't already.

Jason tugs off his gloves and makes his way to the sink to wash up. No telling what's living under his nails these days, but it's probably better not to ingest it.

“This is really good, Alfie,” he says through a thick bite of pancake. “Damn. I hope the new kid knows how good he's got it.”

“I'm afraid I haven't met anyone quite as enthusiastic about my cooking as you, Master Jason. Except, on occasion – Master Richard!”

“Hey, Alfie! Man it smells good, what's the occasion?” A shirtless, pajama-pants clad Dick Grayson bounds into the kitchen, more golden retriever than man, and stops on one foot with his face six inches above the bacon pan, breathing in. “Hey, is that turkey bacon?” He whirls around. “Jason!”

“Um.” Jason goes very stiff in his seat, teeth locked together around a forkful of eggs. Chew, swallow. He hadn't know Dick was here; hadn't figured any of the bat clan would even be awake at this charming daylight hour, except Bruce, who Jason's convinced deprogrammed the biological need to sleep out of his system years ago. “Hey.”

Dick looks pleased to see him, but confused. He's still on one foot. Jason represses the childish urge to throw something at him; knock him over like a big stupid bowling pin. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by to drop off some intel,” he shrugs, fidgeting with his napkin. “You know how it is. Spend enough time cracking skulls, more than brain tissue leaks out.”

When Dick doesn't react beyond placing both feet on the ground and pursing his lips disapprovingly, Jason puts on his best shit-eating grin. Ah, ruining family meals. Just like old times.

“Thanks for the grub, Alfie,” he calls, swinging his legs over the side of his chair. “Think I've overstayed my welcome now, so I'm just be on my way.” He deliberates for a moment before snatching the last piece of turkey bacon off his plate, then walks briskly out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

“Jason – wait up a second.” Dick's voice behind him, close behind him, practically a whisper. Jason turns and takes a deliberate step backward, putting space between them. He's fairly sure he can take Dick hand-to-hand, but he wants to be as close to the exit as possible when he does.

“What?” he demands, more roughly than he needs to. He shifts his hip to feel the handle of his knife pressing into it; the exact shape he'll mold his palm to if he needs to draw it.

Dick crosses his arms and stares him down steadily. It's a mistake to make eye contact with him, because Dick's stare isn't like Bruce's, shrewd and penetrating, it's not a gaze that takes any effort to hold. Quite the contrary – Jason's always had trouble breaking eye contact with Dick. Bruce's stare goes through him, turns him inside out, but Dick's grips him, surrounds him, takes the full measure of him without pulling everything ugly to the surface. It's unnerving. He'd rather face Bruce any day.

“You don't have to leave just because I walked into the room.”

He shouldn't be able to project so much earnestness in nothing but faded Superman sleep pants, Jason thinks. It defies human nature.

“It was more of a sashay,” he smirks, still not blinking. “And it's not on your account, don't worry. I just have shit to do.”

“You should come by more often,” Dick presses.

It's all Jason can do not to throw his head back and laugh. “Right,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “That's gonna happen over Bruce's dead body.”

There's a flash of pain on Dick's face, and Jason thinks his phrasing was probably ill-advised. Too soon and all. Oh well.

“That's not true,” Dick shakes his head, shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes. Jason feels a bizarre and fleeting urge to brush it away, makes it an immediate priority to repress desires like that as far down as they can possibly go. “Look, I know it hasn't always been easy – ”

Jason scoffs. “Oh, sure.”

“ – but if you'd just give him some time, I know he wants you back, Jason. You're family. And I think you know it too, or you wouldn't even be here.”

Defiant rage stirs in Jason's stomach, but this isn't the time or the place for that kind of reaction. He settles instead on indifference. “That's an old tune, Dickie. Might be time to learn some new ones.”

Dick's expression softens. Damnit. This is why he can't stand around talking to Dick, making fucking chitchat and this perverse, endless eye contact. They observe each other in circles, it's nearly impossible to hide, and Dick doesn't hide anything, which means Jason's at an automatic disadvantage. Every goddamn time.

It's pointless to bare his teeth in a grin and offer a sardonic wave, but Jason does it anyways. “It's been real, Boy Wonder. I'll catch you la – ”

“Shh.” Dick puts up a finger, frowning. He looks up the stairs. “Do you hear that?”

If this is another strategy to try and stall him, Jason's gonna start throwing punches. “Hear what?” he demands. He's about to tell Dick to go fuck himself – which, he probably can, fucking acrobat – no, bad visual, stop thinking about Dick naked, Jesus fucking Christ – when he hears it too.

It sounds like – “Is that a baby?” He looks sideways at Dick. “Bruce have a second love child already?”

Dick says, “I'll see you later, Jason,” and starts climbing the stairs.

Well, obviously Jason can't leave now.

They follow the cries down one of the many upstairs hallways, which, from the portraits and weaponry lining the walls, Jason figures must lead to Damian's room. Dick pauses outside a closed door, pressing his ear to it, and, curiosity getting the better of him, Jason follows suit.

“You have to get it to shut up! The whole mansion's probably heard it by now!”

“I'm trying!” an unfamiliar voice hisses, and there's the sound of a hiccup from a third unfamiliar voice. Presumably something babylike. “Do you think it's hungry?”

“How the hell should I know? This was your moronic idea, Colin, don't you know anything about babies?”

“Maybe we should google it.”

“I'm going to kill you. Actually, when Father finds out we kidnapped a fucking baby, he'll kill us both. I can't believe I let you talk me into this mess.”

The crying starts again. Dick looks at Jason and mouths, one, two, three, before pushing the door open and revealing their presence.

It's quite a scene. Damian's in half his costume, mask, boots, and cape discarded on the floor, and he's grinding his teeth at another boy, a redhead kid in a dirty checkered sweatshirt who looks to be around his age. The redhead kid looks horrified to see them standing there, first going furiously red, then white as a sheet. But the thing that really grabs Jason's attention is the baby – yep, a flesh-and-blood human infant – cradled awkwardly in the redhead kid's arms, screaming its tiny head off.

Dick looks between them, his eyes enormous. “Damian? Colin? What is this?”

It's a question, not an accusation. Jason has to hand it to him; Bruce would've had them sizzling on the grill the second the word 'kidnapped' reached his ears.

Colin says, “It's not what it looks like!”

Dick glances sideways at Jason. “Okay, but. I'll be honest, I'm not even sure what it looks like.”

Jason shrugs. “You kids abduct any babies lately?”

“We didn't abduct it,” Damian snarls. “Colin found it. Abandoned. It was my mistake to bring it here.”

The baby cries louder. It's a miracle Alfred hasn't come running yet.

“Someone dropped it at St. Aden's,” Colin says quickly, between bouts of screaming. “I just – I couldn't just leave it there, you don't know what it's like, growing up that way.” He clutches the baby to him fiercely, bitterness etched all over his face. “You might as well hand him over to the gangs right now, because that's where he'll end up.”

Dick looks horribly conflicted. Jason laughs out loud.

“So, what was your plan?” he asks incredulously. “Two ten year olds, teaming up to raise a baby? Which one of you's the mom?”

Dick's arm blocks Damian's sharp kick to Jason's face. “Thank you, Jason, that was helpful,” he says. “But, uh, what was the plan, exactly?”

Everyone looks to Colin, who shrinks visibly under their combined gaze. “I don't know,” he says in a small voice, nearly indecipherable beneath the baby's cries. “I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I just – I thought Batman could save him.”

It takes everything in Jason's face-saving book not to respond to that, but he barely manages to keep his mouth shut. Dick shoots him a look of gratitude, and he rolls his eyes. Obviously there are more pressing issues at hand than his lingering manpain; Jason's not that self-involved.

“Okay,” Dick says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Here's how we solve this. He – she? – we'll figure it out, whatever, is probably hungry. And wet. Did you two change its diaper?”

Damian and Colin look at each other and shrug helplessly. “Right.” Dick points one hand behind him. “I'm going to go to the kitchen; I know Alfred keeps formula in there somewhere. And we should have diapers in one of the emergency supply closets. I'll get that stuff. Jason, take the baby for a minute, would you? Colin looks like he's about to drop.”

Jason backs against the wall, saying, “Oh no, I don't – that's not a – ” but then the screaming bundle is being precariously extended towards him, and instinct has him reaching out to take it.

“Jesus,” he mutters, feeling the fragile weight of the baby in his arms. Can't be much more than ten pounds. He has handguns with more substance than this thing. “Where're you keeping those lungs, little guy?”

Silence falls over the room, and it takes Jason a minute to realize that he didn't spontaneously go deaf, the baby stopped crying. Its tiny eyes – brown, dark and wet – are blinking up at him like he's the most interesting thing in the world.

Oh, no.

This is a disaster.

He doesn't hear Dick's intake of breath so much as he feels it, which might be because he's holding his breath too, because the baby is looking at him, and damnit, this is the last fucking thing he needs in his life. “Go,” he says to Dick, inserting as much venom into his voice as possible, wrenching his eyes away from the baby's. “It's probably just going into shock or something.”

The baby farts.

“Okay, or that.”

Dick bites his lip hard, and ten different emotions of various intensities flash through Jason's gut. Then he's gone, cartwheeling down the staircase, knowing him.

Colin says, “Wow, it really likes you.”

Damian smirks. “I guess we know who the mom is.”

“Don't think because I've got a ten pound handicap I won't kick your ass, kid,” Jason snaps. It's an empty threat, and they all know it. For now anyways. Once the baby situation's dealt with, all bets are off.

Dick's back within five minutes, armed to the teeth with things more frightening to Jason than any weapon he can imagine. Diapers, wipes, blankets, bottles, even a tiny blue hat that looks handmade. Jason's heart thuds unevenly in his chest, recognizing Alfred's handiwork in the stitching; indisputable evidence that Bruce Wayne, Batman, was once a baby just like this one. It'd be hilarious, if he could push a laugh past the lump in his throat.

“Here.” Dick hands him a diaper. It has Mickey Mouse on it.

Jason shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I didn't sign up for this shit. And I mean that in the literal sense; I did not put 'clean up baby shit' in my day planner today.” He thrusts the diaper back at Dick.

“Fine,” Dick snaps, holding his arms out expectantly. “Give me the baby. Damian, shake up this formula, will you?”

Damian snatches the bottle out of his hand and shakes it with the aggression of a paint mixer. Well, hey, at least he's dedicated.

The baby starts to fuss as it's transferred from Jason's arms to Dick's, and the lump in Jason's throat gets bigger. “Hey, hey,” Dick croons, settling the baby down on the rug and starting to unwrap its blanket. “You're okay, little guy. We got you – oh, I'm sorry,” he grins, glancing up at Jason. “Little girl, I'm guessing.”

Jason peers over his shoulder and sees that under the blanket, the baby is wearing tiny pink pajamas with little white and green flowers. Like the blanket, the pajamas are dirty. He wonders when the baby last had a bath.

Not your problem. He needs to get the hell out of here.

“Ooh, someone's got a full diaper,” Dick goes on. Jason wants to kick him in the back of the head. “Let's fix that, huh? Oh, yeah. We'll get someone on that right away.”

Jason jumps backward when Dick extends the dirty diaper to him, and Dick rolls his eyes. “It's just pee. Get over yourself, honestly.”

“Fuck you,” Jason growls. “I'm not part of this.”

Colin walks over with dogged footsteps and takes the diaper from Dick, folding it over until it's a tight little pocket that fits in the palm of his hand. He turns to Damian. “Where's the garbage?”

Damian jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom, and Dick glares at Jason as he refastens the baby's pajamas.

The baby's fussing turns into loud wails again, and Dick picks her – no, it, can't think of it as a person, damnit – up, rocking his arms gently. The baby cries, rubs its face on Dick's chest, and then turns its head and look directly at Jason.

“Aw, Jay. Looks like she's got a crush.”

“Please.” Jason rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the vise that's squeezing in his chest. He really, really needs to leave. Like, yesterday.

But then Dick starts feeding the baby, and Jason finds himself utterly rooted to the spot.

It figures that parenting is something that would come naturally to Dick. It seems like most things come naturally to him, particularly the things that terrify normal people, like leaping off tall buildings, running into the line of fire, taking on twenty armed goons with nothing but his stupid fucking escrima sticks. Dick cradles the baby with arms that've put hundreds of criminals on their asses, arms that are scarred all over, just like Jason's. He gazes down at the baby as it eats, murmuring praise, shifting slowly from foot to foot, and that damn thing won't stop looking at Jason, even while it's sucking enthusiastically at the bottle.

Footfalls behind him; a distinct step he'd know anywhere. “I took the liberty of digging up some clothes for our young guest,” Alfred says, as though nothing is out of the ordinary. “They're a bit dated, but I believe they should still be suitable.”

“Can we all get out of my room now?” Damian asks. “I'd like to change, and I'd prefer to do it without the entire household watching.”

Alfred nods. “Certainly, Master Damian. Master Richard, perhaps it would be prudent to bring this matter to Master Bruce at this time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dick says, heavily, shooting another look at Jason. Why does he keep doing that? “Let's just get her fed and changed really quick.”

“Of course.”

As soon as they're downstairs, the baby spits out the nipple and screws up its face like it's going to start howling again. Jason doesn't know what it is, some kind of long-buried impulse, a skill set he never thought he'd had to begin with, but he's stepping forward with his arms outstretched, palms open and flat, like he could do a damn thing to keep the baby quiet.

Dick pegs him with a curious look, and Jason freezes. “You wanna hold her?”

“What? No,” Jason says, shoving his arms down to his sides. “I just – I thought you were gonna drop it. Her.”

Dick doesn't say anything, and Jason feels a flush creeping up his neck. “You know what, it seems like you guys have this all handled. I'm just gonna...go.”

He turns, and the baby starts crying again.

Jesus Christ in a goddamn handbasket, this is bad.

“If you wouldn't mind,” Dick says, carefully, “We could use the help. Until we figure out what to do.”

“He can help,” Jason protests, pointing at Colin.

“I actually, um,” Colin looks vaguely terrified, glancing guiltily between them. “I have to go, my kids – there's kids at the orphanage, I have to be there. For them.”

Jason doesn't think about the time he spent on the streets, doesn't relive those fun childhood memories for any reason, but they're a scar on his psyche, forever etched in, and he can't exactly make them go away, either. He remembers the kids from the orphanages, how little and lost they were, better cared for but more unloved than any of the other street kids. He remembers standing up for them as much as he remembers knocking them over and stealing from them. No kids are worse equipped to protect themselves. Colin looks like he weighs eighty pounds soaking wet, but Jason reasons that he wouldn't be friends with Damian if he couldn't take a hit.

Colin probably takes a lot of hits on behalf of his kids. The thought turns Jason's stomach, and he knows he can't ask him to stay.

Dick frowns and starts to say, “I'm sure – ”

“Go,” Jason says quickly, giving Colin a short nod. “It's fine, whatever. My shit can wait a few hours.”

Everyone stares at him. The baby is still crying.

“Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine, give me the damn kid.” He sets his jaw and takes the baby from Dick, expressly avoiding Dick's eyes, or any part of his face, for that matter. The baby fusses for a minute, then seems to catch sight of Jason's face again, and settles down at once.

Shit, shit, shit.

***

“You're doing this completely wrong,” Jason tells the baby as they make their way down to the Batcave. “I'm sure as hell not taking you home with me, I'll tell you that much. No offense.”

The baby coughs, and Jason finds himself holding it a little tighter. It's all very unnerving, the way he's already used to the shape of its small form in his arms, the way its head fits snugly into the soft spot of flesh between his shoulder and his breastbone. Alfred threw out the ratty blanket it was wrapped in and gave them a new one, along with a pink cotton onesie with a stiff lace collar. Purchased forty odd years ago by Martha Wayne, on the off-chance that she was having a baby girl. A little piece of trivia that Jason is going to any lengths necessary not to think about.

“It fits with the intel I got last week,” Tim is saying, “Qurac is a big job; she wouldn't be doing it alone.”

“No,” Bruce agrees, hunched over in front of his massive screen. “Perhaps the League of Assassins isn't behind this at all.”

“So either someone's setting it up to look like they...” Tim trails off, catching sight of Jason, or more accurately, the wiggling bundle in his arms. “Is that a baby?”

Jason looks down and gasps. “Holy shit, how did that get there?”

Dick rolls his eyes. Tim says, “Wait, it's not – ”

“It's not mine, Replacement. Don't give yourself a stroke deducing over there.”

Bruce turns in his chair to face them, frowning deeply. His eyes take in Dick, Jason, and the baby. “Where's Damian?”

Dick steps forward. “He went with Alfred to take Colin ho – back to St. Aden's.”

“Ah.” Bruce nods. “So that's where he went this morning.” His gaze lands on the baby. “I take it the infant came from the orphanage as well.”

“She's really sweet, Bruce.” Dick adopts a pleading voice. “Colin thought he was doing the right thing.”

“Colin can look after her when she's returned to St. Aden's,” Bruce says firmly. “The Mansion is no place for a baby.” He stands and walks over to Jason. “May I?”

It takes Jason a moment to realize that Bruce is asking his permission to hold the baby. He doesn't know what's more surprising, the fact that Bruce is asking at all, or the fact that he wants to refuse, to take the baby and run as far away as possible, to an alternate universe where parents don't abandon their kids or sell them out, where they don't let psychopaths murder them, where they'd rather burn the world down than let any harm come to another child on their watch.

He thinks that Bruce can probably see his struggle painted on his face as he waits for his answer. And he is waiting, because the question wasn't a formality, it's a real uncertainty, and Bruce is asking Jason whether or not he trusts him to take this small life and protect it, even if it's just for a few moments.

Jason's reflexive answer is a harsh and unforgiving fuck no, but that's not the end of it. There's something deeper inside him, something that's been climbing toward the surface for a while now, no matter how hard he tries to bury it, that tells another story. A lot of other stories.

Rather than sift through them, he bites his tongue and hands the baby over. He tells himself he won't look at Bruce to see his reaction, but how often do you get to see Batman with a baby?

Jason will die again a hundred times before he ever admits it, but the vision of Bruce, half-suited up, broad and unyielding and Batman, folding his arms into a cradling position for the baby, is actually pretty fucking charming. He wouldn't've guessed that Bruce had a lot of experience with small children, but he doesn't look uncomfortable. The baby whines and stirs, little hands feebly reaching up to clutch at the bat symbol on his chest, and Jason thinks he actually sees Bruce's mouth quirk in a smile.

“I'm just going to scan her handprint,” he says, addressing Jason.

Jason shrugs. “Whatever.”

The whining stops as soon as he takes the baby over to the enormous computer screen, and Jason hopes that all the lights and flashing images don't fry the baby's brain. There are shots of crime scenes, bodies with blood spilled onto the street, rotating in the corner of the screen, and Jason hopes the baby's subconscious doesn't file those images away for night terrors down the road. Although, if it's going back to the orphanage, it'll see the real thing soon enough.

There's an uplifting thought.

“Danielle Leigh Torres,” Bruce says after a moment. “Born the sixteenth of January. Parents Linda Torres – deceased, and Mitchell Howard, also deceased.”

“Wait a minute.” Tim's gone still with his hand hovering over the keyboard. “Mitch Howard – that's Big Mouth Howard's real name.”

Big Mouth Howard. Jason's heard the name – some lowlife, maybe a bookie? He doesn't know why it'd be significant to any of them, but the way Tim and Bruce are looking at each other suggests that there's something fairly major he's missing. Jason glances at Dick, and is relieved to see that he looks just as out of the loop.

“You two wanna clue us in?” Jason demands, stepping closer to the screen. “Who the fuck is Big Mouth Howard?”

Bruce continues scowling unfathomably at the screen, and Tim lets out a long exhale. “There's been a lot of activity in the East End this past week,” he says. “You guys have probably noticed.”

“Yeah, bunch of dealers got capped,” Jason confirms, still not understanding why this should matter so much to Batman. “Turf wars. Big fucking deal.”

Tim shakes his head. “Not just dealers. Cy Reynolds was Intergang, they bought out the Dragons’ territory a few months ago and have been pulling in major product from Venezuela. His whole family was taken out, all his lieutenants, all their families.” He pulls up a mug shot of a sneering, overweight man with some serious dental issues. “Big Mouth was one of them.”

“So, you're thinking professional hits.”

“Reynolds had a lot of enemies. Guy dipped his pen in way too many wells. We thought Intergang might've taken him out themselves, because he was something of a liability, but why take out the lieutenants?”

“And the families,” Dick adds, frowning. “Someone wanted to send a message.”

“Exactly. He's gotten on the wrong side of the al Ghuls more than once, and this is their style,” Tim continues, pulling up more detailed shots of the bodies. “That one's Linda Torres. She wasn't even married to Big Mouth, but they still got her.”

“League's got bigger fish to fry,” Jason says dismissively. “They wouldn't bother.”

“Yeah, well, you would know,” Tim replies, raising an eyebrow. “Anyways, we're thinking it's a move against Intergang now, not just Reynolds. I have a couple hunches, but we need to examine the bodies more closely to know for sure.”

“Bruce,” Dick says, “if they're really sending a message, they're gonna be looking for Danielle.”

Tim opens his mouth and shuts it. No one speaks, and, as if on cue, the bundle in Bruce's arms starts wailing again.

Something is squeezing Jason's lungs, making it hard for him to breathe normally. Danielle. The baby has a name, it's a goddamn person and it's – she's – been in this world for three fucking months and she's already got a price on her head. God almighty, what a piece of shit world they live in.

Jason grinds his teeth. “No way she goes back to that orphanage.”

Everyone turns to look at him. He ignores them and steps forward, extending his arms towards Bruce, who slides Danielle over to him without protest.

“Jason – ”

“Forget it, Bruce. I don't know what paragraph of your moral code stipulates that you have to throw a fucking baby to the wolves instead of, oh, I don't know, protect her, but you can shove it up your ass. I'll fucking take her if it's that goddamn important to you. And if anyone comes for her, they die.”

“ – I was going to say, I think she should stay here. For the time being.”

Jason pauses. “Oh.”

“Provided, of course, that someone will be able to look after her. Other than Alfred.”

“I'll stay,” Dick volunteers. Of course he does. Fucking boy scout. “Jason?”

Jason looks down at Danielle, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching Danielle settle down to sleep. Idiot. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

***

#jaydick #reposting this initial chapter from 8 years ago bc the other one's formatting got all screwed up #we are back at it again though #my fics #heartlandverse #forgot to put this in the description but the word count for this chapter is 6000

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Peace | Damian Wayne

Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Female!Plus Size Reader

Characters: Damian Wayne, Reader, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain (mentioned), Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned)

Word Count: 7k

Request: i have this idea but im not a good writer so i want to request for you to do it: ps reader is dating tim and lately sex isnt great so he invites one of his brothers (the closest in age so probs damian) to have sex with her but she doesnt know and damian doesnt know she doesnt know and when he finds out hes embarrassed and all of that? fluffy ending with damian.

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, suggestive themes, lying, mentions of hypothermia, brief talk about consent, self-doubt, fluff.

A/N: I got a little carried away with this... I hope you all like it, Damian is one of my favorite characters in general so it was great being able to write for him.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎

Cursing under your breath, you fixed your scarf as you waited to be received. The snow under your boots too out of ordinarily dense— Alfred always demanded the entrance to be free of snow. Upon making that observation you grew worried, the only occasions Alfred didn’t pay mind to those details where when an emergency was occurring and by the tone of the call you got minutes earlier, you couldn’t assume things were going.

They pulled the door open and left it that way so you’d walk yourself inside. Never a positive indication. You recognized the steps walking away from you like Jason’s, his presence in the manor so rare that you hurried in. Catching up with Jason was always hard, his strides were big and the fact that you were freezing didn’t help your situation at all.

Jason held the door to a sitting room open for you, looking at you with sympathy, bordering in pity; Tim had obviously told him you weren’t dating anymore. You thanked him, scanning the place to try to asses why had you been summoned. Swallowing your spit at the sight of Stephanie just beside Tim, you cleared your throat to not interrupt whatever they were doing.

You weren’t stupid, there was something between them. Although it hurt, you had nothing against either of them— it relieved you to know Tim had been honest and loyal throughout your relationship and if his happiness was with Steph, so be it.

Your ex-boyfriend pointed to one of the unoccupied cushioned armchairs, next to the one Jason had just sat on. You took your seat, your eyes dancing from Tim to Steph, to Jason. Tim sighed, “we need your help.” He sounded tired, more than usual, worried.

Nodding, you moved a hand to prompt him to explain what was going on. Tim looked down, Jason shifted beside you. “What’s wrong?” you asked, your nerves spiking up.

“Damian disappeared,” Tim explained. You turned to Jason, hoping he’d give you more telling, but he avoided looking at you.

“And how can I help? Is Bruce informed? And Dick?”

“Yes, he’s fine, but he doesn’t want to talk to us— not even with Alfred. He will talk to you.” Tim removed his hair from his forehead, sighing again— a sign you knew well, one of nervousness— “at least I hope.”

“So you know where he is?”

Tim nodded. Jason’s exasperated sigh didn’t go unnoticed by you. Before you could ask, the oldest of the two brothers spoke, “tell her, Tim.”

Tim picked his mug, mumbling something inaudible on the lip of it and taking a long gulp. You felt yourself starting to tense up, many occasions you had seen your ex-boyfriend do that and it always led to a clash.

He put the drink down on the table, “Remember the last time we had sex?”

How could you forget? You had assumed your relationship was getting better after a bad month. He had been so attentive that night, so passionate— his lips hadn’t left an inch of your body untouched, he had shown to have listened to what you had suggested weeks prior and blindfolded you, Tim had shown you a side of him you didn’t think to exist. He hadn’t been too extreme but he had definitely been rougher than ever, tying your hands and eating you out quite harshly even though he usually avoided giving you oral sex. Now you saw it as a passionate goodbye, it saddened you because it had been the best sexual experience you ever had but it was what it was.

“Yeah,” you rasped, uncomfortable by speaking about it in front of other people. “Why?”

“I– promise me you won’t get mad.”

Stephanie shook her head which made you realize you would definitely get mad. Scenarios crossed your mind, had he recorded you without your consent? Did he have an STD and didn’t tell you at the time? Did you have an STD you didn’t know about and passed it to him?

“What did you do?”

Tim licked his lips. “It wasn’t me. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t know how... it was Damian, I t—“

“You did what?!” you blurted a yell.

He lifted a hand to prevent you from interrupting so he could finish justifying himself. You shook your head, standing up. Your nerves were eating you alive, Damian Wayne had seen you naked and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it!

“Why the fuck did you do that, Timothy?”

He watched you, trying to find the words that would make you less mad. “I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset and... look, I knew Damian liked you so I told him you wanted to try new stuff.”

“You didn’t ask me...” you trailed off, feeling everyone staring at you. Embarrassment was an understatement, your ex-boyfriend was telling you he made his brother have sex with you without your consent and from what you gathered the entire family knew. Snatching your purse, you stormed off the room. You ignored their calls for you to get back in the same way Tim had ignored your opinions and wishes.

On the way to your apartment, you couldn’t help but wonder what else had he lied about, which things hadn’t been real. It was a nightmare, now doubting the best romantic memories you had to even be real. Everything reminded you about your relationship with Tim, the elevator where you had shared your first passionate kiss, that centerpiece on the coffee table he bought for you when he went out of the country for a business trip, the couch and how many times you cuddled there...

You didn’t wish to enter your bedroom even though it hadn’t been difficult to do it when he moved out. You had been so understanding, somewhat naive, you didn’t question him further on when he said the relationship wasn’t working. It hurt, but your consolation had been his honesty, one you now knew to have been false.

You laid down on the couch, facing the ceiling. What a way to spend a Friday evening, in anguish for an ex. Letting it affect you pissed you off, but you were human after all and he had betrayed your trust. As you continued to think about it, the situation turned worse.

From Tim’s family, you were the closest to Damian and Cass. Everyone was nice and kind, even Bruce whom you had found intimidating the first few times you interacted with, but Cass and Damian were special in their own peculiar ways. You had been told you were lucky to have met Damian as a grownup, he had even agreed although you were never given a proper explanation, and it had taken you a few tries to find things to have in common with Cassandra but when you got there your friendship with her became one of the highlights of your life.

Now you wouldn’t be able to look at your friends in the face. Maybe Cass wouldn’t judge you, but Damian had every right to do it. He had seen every inch of your body, touched it with both his hands and mouth, he had been inside you— and it had been the best night of your life.

Buzzing startled you, the vibration of your cellphone against the wooden table annoying you to no end. Extending your arm, you declined the call without looking at the screen. The device buzzed again, now in your hand; reading the caller’s name, you pondered on your options— you could turn the cellphone off and risk Dick breaking into your apartment or pick up. A hard decision, you didn’t want to talk about anything with anyone.

Deciding to get it over with, you picked up at the last ringing. “Hey, Dick.”

“(N/N)!” you could hear the relief in his voice, “Jay told me you left the manor very upset.”

“Yeah... what do you need?”

Dick exhaled very loudly, making you wince, “it’s Dami... he doesn’t want to talk with anyone. Jon tried, Alfred tried, Cass tried, I tried...”

“I can’t help you.” You didn’t feel ready to face him, you weren’t even sure you were ready to process what had happened. “Give him space, Dick, he needs it.”

“I’m worried. He never shuts himself off so drastically...”

Yeah, you knew. “I’ll text him.”

“He didn’t take his phone. But you know in which safe house he is.”

❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎

Crazy, you were fucking crazy for going out in the middle of the night. It was freezing outside, the fog from the cold and sleet making it harder for you to see in the dark. The Wayne family would be responsible for your death, you were sure, good thing Bruce was rich so he could at least pay for your funeral.

You fixed the hood of your jacket, sleet tapping against the material as you continued your walk. Your hands were numb, the gloves not really warming them up. Driving hadn’t been an option, it was too dangerous and your eyes were too tired from crying.

The streets got darker as you approached your destination, your harsh breathing getting louder. The smoke coming out of your mouth because of the cold was the only indicator of life around you, your steps having to be slower in order for you to not trip only another reminder that you could’ve been under your warm covers. You continued complaining, inwardly, with your nerves about to burst until you recognized the front of the property.

Punching the code at the gates had been harder than you anticipated, with your fingers nearly rigid. The front lawn was in perfect condition as it always did, but the lights were off. You walked up the front steps out of memory like Cass had taught you to do. Lifting your fist, you let it linger on the air for a few seconds, unsure.

It was the right thing to do, you were freezing and going back would mean definitely dying from hypothermia, and yet you weren’t ready. It terrified you more than being kidnapped which had always been so plausible in a city as dangerous as Gotham and with the acquaintances you had. Facing it meant closing a cycle, and closing the cycle would mean having to start again...

Resigned, you knocked twice, made a pause, then knocked twice again. You couldn’t hear any sound coming from inside, but that didn’t mean much. The door cracked open, an annoyed sigh greeting you as a green eye peeked from inside. Damian swung the door open and took you by the wrist, pulling you in with ease.

The entrance was locked as soon as you were inside, his fingers still around your wrist as with his other hand he made sure every lock was on.

“What were you thinking?” Damian snapped. “It’s freezing outside!”

You snatched your wrist off his grip, dying to get your backpack off your shoulders. “I was worried about you.”

“You could’ve died.”

“I couldn’t sleep! I was worried, Damian.” He hated when you repeated things, you shouldn’t have done it at that moment when he was so annoyed but you were annoyed too, and tired, and cold, and worried, and confused, and scared.

“I heard you the first time. Why didn’t you at least drive here?”

“You would’ve scolded me for driving under this weather.”

He took a proper look at you. Damian was good at reading you, your body language, the tone of your voice. There were four persons he knew like the back of his hand: Bruce, Talia, Dick, and you. “You’ve been crying...” it wasn’t a question, nor a prompt to explain yourself. He made the observation, tore his eyes away from you and stepped back.

You were sure he knew by now Tim had told you. There wasn’t any other reason why Damian would suddenly be so tense, not with you. You knew him very well yourself, not to the point he did with you but that came with the training you had never even imagined could exist. There were things, however, Damian didn’t pay attention to about himself that you did— his inclination toward sweet and savory desserts, for example, or the way he hid behind his clothes when anxious, the changes in his voice when in presence of an animal, how his eyes sparkled when he spoke about medicine.

“What did he say?”

“Who?”

“You know damn well who.”

Damian didn’t like losing time, you should’ve also remembered that. “Just what happened that night,” you mumbled, his jaw setting when you didn’t elaborate on it.

“Did you appear here to tell me you hate me?” he surprised you by asking.

You couldn’t help but frown, no matter how frustrating it could be to him. Damian would always tell you frowning didn’t suit you. “Why would I hate you? You didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know either,” he refuted. “That’s not how consent works.”

“I’m aware that’s not how consent works!”

“Then?” Damian pressed, standing perfectly straight. “Why don’t you hate me?”

“Why do you want me to hate you?!” you squealed. You could only imagine that it would be better for him if you hated him so the topic wasn’t touched upon ever again, but you could never hate Damian.

He lifted his arms in exasperation, “because I should’ve asked you at that moment! I shouldn’t have listened to Drake! I shouldn’t have let m—“ he stopped himself abruptly, right hand flying toward his forehead. He rubbed his face, huffing through his nose.

“What? You shouldn’t have let what?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” you encouraged him, “it can’t be worse than my ex-boyfriend implying to me in front of his new girlfriend that instead of straight-up telling me he didn’t want me anymore he convinced my close friend to fuck me.” Oh, wow. It sounded worse when you said it out loud— it didn’t even sound real, it couldn’t be, it shouldn’t.

Damian stood there, silently avoiding you. His eyes were solely focused on the wall in front of him, face neutral. How much time passed wasn’t relevant, you were too lost in thought to realize or care. He wouldn’t say anything, and you wouldn’t press on the subject anymore when you had been humiliated so badly. Going there was a mistake, worrying was a mistake, telling him anything had been a mistake. Just like he thought he should’ve done things differently, you were sure you shouldn’t have risked confrontation. Perhaps what annoyed you the most was that he seemed to want you away from him as you had predicted he would, and it hurt way more than what Tim had done.

You hunched down to pick up your backpack, dropping it again when he cleared his throat. “I didn’t require convincing.”

Believing to have understood his words wrong, you stared up at him through your lashes. Tim’s words came to you, ”I knew Damian liked you.” When he said it you had assumed he meant Damian liked you as a friend but not that Damian Wayne liked you. It didn’t sound bad, just highly unrealistic.

He didn’t repeat himself nor furthered his comment, he just stared back. The yellow tones in his green eyes got more prominent the longer you stared, looking like sunlight warming the prettiest forest you’d ever seen. You straightened your back as you shifted on your feet, not sure of what to say.

“Why didn’t you—“

“Say anything?” he interrupted you. You nodded. Damian shrugged, eyes again diverting from your face, “Drake always gets what I want, I wasn’t even surprised.”

You hated the way he said it, so upset his amalgamated accent turned thicker. You were at loss of words, you had never seen him that way— not because you didn’t think he was handsome but because he was Damian Wayne, your close friend, a guy way out of your league.

“I wish you had said something, but I understand.”

Damian lifted both eyebrows. “Would it have changed anything?”

“I don’t know,” you told him honestly. It was so easy to be truthful with him, so freeing.

“You looked happy.”

Tim understood many things without needing an explanation. His body was different from his friend’s and family’s so he never judged yours, he’d remind you there was nothing wrong with being the way you were so often that you had started to believe it. You could put up with the nights of worry and the fights that came with his carelessness because you felt loved and accepted and wanted to give him just that. Tim had been great up until that early afternoon.

And Tim wasn’t Damian. Tim didn’t have time to put up with your rants, he was a detective by day and vigilante by night. Tim couldn’t be there every time you needed company after a bad day, Tim in his sleep-deprived state forgot important dates and details. You had always admired the way Damian’s brain worked, how efficient he was, but you had never stopped to ask him how was he able to do that; it hadn’t even crossed your mind that he could be doing a sacrifice because he cared about you.

“I was.”

Silence filled the living room. Damian had his back against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, your fingers brushed the strap of your backpack as you wiggled them to keep them from cramping. He had the ability to bend everything over his will, his mood could change yours in seconds, his stance stirred rooms. You felt the temperature dropping, not sure if it was physical or metaphorical, and wondered if it wouldn’t be better to leave.

You didn’t want to leave. Everyone would call you crazy, but Damian’s presence had always been comforting. His silence, his bluntness— you were scared of losing that, how clearer he made things when you were confused, how much you learned from him. Things would never go back to normal, your friend liked you for some reason and you didn’t know what to think about it, he had seen you naked without you even being aware, and it seemed like he hadn’t hated what he saw. But leaving was the best option. You were confused, overall scared, and Damian couldn’t be of comfort at that moment— he shouldn’t.

Zipping up your jacket, you let out a sigh. “Just go home, man. Your family is worried.”

His low hum caught your attention. Expecting him to say something else would’ve been losing your time, Damian wasn’t a fan of being told what to do. However, he snatched his coat from the hanger and slid it on. Damian took his car keys and wiggled them, wordlessly telling you he’d drive you.

You tried to protest, using the fact that it was past 7:00 AM already. Damian wasn’t having it, it was still cold outside. You were desperate to get home already, you needed time with yourself and the sooner you got it the better.

The silence between you two not being uncomfortable throughout the ride was astounding. It felt colder in the car than back at the safe house, probably because the sleet hadn’t ceased but mostly because you were on edge. He didn’t attempt to talk nor to do anything else then drive really, he looked calm as always, so collected it unnerved you. You considered for a moment that he had simply told you what he did out of pity then discarded the thought because Damian wasn’t like that.

In any other situation, you would’ve found curious how deeply you knew him, but it was starting to scare you. One thing was being aware of what your friend liked or disliked but not even self-sabotaging your thoughts because you knew them that well was in the highest level of knowledge about someone. It meant you thought about him more often than you had ever cared to admit, more than you had ever realized.

You had so much to ponder on, to worry about. How long would it take to close the cycle of your relationship with Tim when now you weren’t sure if it had been honest or not? Would your friendship with Damian be ruined by what happened plus his attraction toward you? Were you attracted to him?

In the apartment, the silence was different, deafening. The place felt bigger than it was, bigger than it had felt when you left in the middle of the night. Unfolding the blanket you always kept on the couch, you wrapped it around your body and curled up with your head on the arm of the furniture. You also turned the tv on, hoping the noise would help you get some sleep.

Nothing helped, your mind wasn’t letting you rest. It insisted on replaying Damian’s unwavering tone when he said he hadn’t needed convincing. You probably wouldn’t have needed convincing either if Tim had asked you to fuck his brother, but it felt... wrong. Saying you had internalized your attraction toward Damian to protect yourself was an understatement, the potential rejection was scary but it wasn’t in the top five of the things you feared in relation to him— and that only proved you actually liked him back.

Conflicted was putting it lightly. If someone would’ve asked you the morning before if you had feelings for Damian Wayne you would’ve laughed, now you couldn’t take the idea off your mind. Processing it all would require time, the comfort he gave you, the confidence, seemingly the pleasure— you were seeing him in another light, and the worst part of it was that you weren’t startled by it.

Finding natural to be attracted to someone you had never seen that way before wasn’t how you expected your week to start.

You assumed Damian had eventually gotten back to the manor, your phone hadn’t buzzed too much throughout the weekend apart from a few messages in your friend’s group text. A nice contrast with your mind which was reeling from Friday and your newfound passion.

Was it just passion? You didn’t know, you weren’t sure of wanting to. Damian had started to consume all your thoughts and feelings, your dreams too— the anger you had felt from finding out Tim hadn’t been the one to pleasure you that night had dissipated by the second morning you woke up soaking wet due to a dream. It obviously had more to do with your libido than with anything else, but the new perspective was better.

Seeing it that way made you feel dirty. If you closed your eyes and let your mind wander back to that night you now could see Damian hovering over you, the greenest eyes you had ever seen staring into your soul with dilated pupils— you could picture the smirk you had felt against your skin as he nipped on your thigh. He was driving you crazy without knowing it, but him knowing terrified you.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎

Taking alone time for yourself was the best decision you could’ve taken. You didn’t find all the answers nor closure regarding Tim and you felt really lonely, but you decided to focus on what you could— it gave you perspective, about Damian, about your interpersonal relationships in general, what you wanted, what you enjoyed.

Damian hadn’t contacted you. It would’ve bothered you if you weren’t so familiar with him. He wouldn’t call until you showed signs of wanting to talk, he was too busy to beg— and even if he wasn’t, Damian Wayne never begged.

When ready, you texted your group chat with Damian and Cass as nothing had happened. Both texted you individually about very different topics as they always did, it was something you thoroughly enjoyed about them.

Damian’s answers were quicker than usual, yours shorter. You didn’t want things to be awkward between you two, but you didn’t really know what to say; or if you should say anything about what had happened.

What if not speaking about it was for the best? You liked him, the realization of it scared you to no end, and he liked you back. He fucking liked you back, why or how only he knew, but the fact that he did felt good yet it mingled with guilt. He was Tim’s brother, and although your ex-boyfriend hadn’t had consideration toward you, you felt bad.

Damian took over your thoughts, as you did house chores, as you worked, as you went out with your other friends... now you missed him in a way you had never missed anyone. His annoyed sighs, his tutting, his interesting topics of conversation, how funny he could get to be, his handsome face, his silky voice...

And so you texted him, asking if he was busy. He didn’t reply, at least not in the next five minutes. You turned the device off, not wanting to continue hopefully staring at it. Some would say it was childish, but you genuinely weren’t in the headspace to be rejected.

Pounding on the front door took you out of the tv show you were watching. Untangling yourself from the fuzzy blanket, you dragged your feet against the floor.

Damian slid past you as soon as you swung the door open, his steps more silent than ever as he analyzed the living room. His eyes stopped on the pile of folded clothes next to the couch for a prolonged moment before he continued what he had been doing.

You locked the door, estranged by his actions. “Are you looking for something?” you asked, the crack of your voice caused by how little you had used it that day making you wince, he’d surely realize.

He glared at you from behind the arch of the kitchen. “I thought you were in danger.” Before you could say something, he spoke again, “what happened to your phone?”

“Nothing.” You picked the cellphone from the center table and turned it on to show him.

Damian inhaled deeply, clearly keeping himself from snapping at you. He walked back to the living room, shaking his head once or twice while mumbling something in Arabic, and leaning against the wall just next to the window from where he could take a peek of the mostly white snowy street.

You went through your phone to avoid the tension between you two. The second worst idea you had that day, the first being texting him. You had multiple texts from him, a few from Dick, missing calls from the entire family. In your attempts to not get your heart broken you didn’t stop to think how it would seem to Damian if you suddenly stopped responding after asking if he was busy.

“Why are your clothes in the living room?” his inquiry bounced against the window glass.

You stayed quiet, he’d surely get the hint you didn’t want to talk about that.

He did get the hint, he also ignored it. The least you could do, in his mind, was answer his questions after worrying so bad. “(Y/N)?”

Lying to Damian was so hard you didn’t even try it. “I’m not using my closet anymore,” you explained, looking for the remote to turn the TV off in order to have an excuse to not look at him.

In contrast, he focused on you. You were now folding the blanket to keep your hands busy, fixing the pillows on the couch so it would look in the same fashion it always did.

“You’re not sleeping in your room.” Damian wasn’t sure if it came off as a question or an observation but it was the latter.

You shook your head, inwardly, and uselessly, begging he’d drop the topic at that. You were ashamed to accept what happened was affecting you, and even more ashamed by the fact that it was affecting you in ways you never expected. His silence was worse than being alone, there he was with his arms crossed once again, jaw clenched, and attention out of the window. You considered turning the TV back on just to feel less uncomfortable, less exposed.

Connecting the dots wouldn’t be hard for anyone aware of the situation. You should’ve said something, explain it didn’t have to do with him— not negatively at least— but you were too nervous, almost on edge which was getting too frequent for your liking.

Willing him to say something, you focused on him as if the intensity of your gaze would make a difference. He was already watching you like a hawk, analyzing every twitch. Damian uncrossed his arms, his palms slapping against his thighs as he pushed himself off the wall. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you assured him. Masking how surprised you were by his apology had been hard, probably pointless when he knew you so well.

“It’s no excuse.”

“Damian, please.” Your voice got smaller, the last word coming as a mere whisper. Speaking about it terrified you, he was right and you wished it wasn’t the case— you had tried to ignore the fact that he hadn’t given you his consent either and you didn’t have a way to know if he had enjoyed himself. The longer you thought about it, the dirtier you felt.

You were angry at yourself for not having known better, at Tim for not being honest... but you weren’t mad at Damian. Should you have been when he was almost as unaware as you? Wanting to be sure, to at least have some closure, you asked, “when did he tell you the truth?”

“The night before he told you.”

“Why do you feel so bad about it, then?”

He sighed shakily, dropping his head forward. He hoped that if he stared long enough the floor would open and swallow him, it would be way better than having you hear the truth. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he explained, eyes on the same spot they had been for the past couple of minutes. He heard your breath hitching, the swallow of your spit. Damian braced himself to be slapped when he heard the thud of the blanket being dropped on the cushioned arm of the couch.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“What?” Damian’s gaze snapped upward, completely lost as to why you could be apologizing.

You clarified what you meant, “I’m sorry you had to see... me.”

“You idiot! I don’t mean it in a bad way.” Damian hated how insecure you could be, he knew it to be natural in an environment where people believe their personal standards to be the norm but it was horrible to see. He had tried his best to make you understand there was nothing shameful about your body but it seemed like he had failed. “It’s not...” he groaned, straightening his posture. There went nothing. “I feel guilty because I get turned on thinking about it.”

Oh. Well, at least you weren’t the only one who thought about it constantly. The days consequent to that night hadn’t been easy, the break up had come too soon and the only thing you had as consolation was that night. The fact that you had touched yourself while thinking about Damian without knowing was weird, it felt intrusive and at the same time thrilling— adding it to the fact that then you had wet dreams about it wasn’t a good look. Or yes, who knew at that point? Surely not you.

“For what it’s worth, me too.” Your face was burning up as the words left your lips. Your sex life wasn’t something you talked about with Damian, and when you did it with Cass you spared her the details because she didn’t like hearing about Tim in that way.

“But you didn’t know it was me,” he reminded you, and himself.

You made a face, “I don’t really care that much... it sounds bad but I don’t. It was my first orgasm in months.”

Damian stepped closer, naturally towering over you. You gazed up, trying to make sense as to what he was doing. “Am I reading this wrong?” he inquired in a whisper, fingers flexing to stop himself from touching you.

“No.”

He cupped your face with a hand, his freezing cold fingers making you shudder. He leaned in slowly, leisurely, his breath hit your skin and his nose brushed yours but he still didn’t kiss you— not yet. Arm snaking around your waist, he licked his lips. You couldn’t take it anymore and closed the gap, moving your lips against his as your hands rested firmly on his shoulders to not lose balance.

Kissing Damian was an experience, there wasn’t any other way to call it. He wasn’t in a hurry, his tongue had just tickled your mouth open but he hadn’t made a move to deepen the kiss. The heat from his body didn’t feel human, it transferred to your insides— it made butterflies swarm around in your stomach. For someone who hadn’t known they were attracted to their closest friend, your body was reacting as if you had been longing for that moment your entire life. You felt like floating, with his arms around your waist and neck respectively and his tongue tickling yours.

You didn’t want to part from him, oxygen was getting scarce and you found yourself thinking you’d rather die than stop kissing him. He found a good middle ground, recovering his breath with his right cheek against your left one. Inhaling your perfume in the process, he tightened his arms to have your body completely flush on his.

You moved your head to face him, finding the most peaceful semblance you had ever seen on him. Damian waited for your move, or your words, his eyes dancing all over your face. He had never had you so close, not properly, he hadn’t thought it would be possible to find more details to like about you but there he was, in awe of your beauty.

Tentatively, you kissed him again. He kissed back immediately, this once around not taking his time at all. You whined on his mouth, making him grunt. You caressed his thick hair, fingers burying between the dark locks as you pulled him impossibly closer. Damian pushed your body backward, your calves hitting the edge of the couch as he sucked your bottom lip between his.

You brought him down with you, his first reaction being to place his open palm on the back of your head so you wouldn’t hurt yourself as you tried not to giggle. He huffed a laugh himself, pecking your lips before dragging his own down to your jaw.

As he kissed your neck, he asked, “what do you want, Amira?”

Your attempts of getting out of bed failed the next morning, Damian pulled you closer as soon as he felt you move. You didn’t have any other option than placing your head on his hard chest, your index finger mindlessly tracing patterns against his dark olive skin. The tips of his fingers ghosted your back up and down, his steady breathing threatening to lull you back to sleep.

“I have to go to work.”

He hummed in answer yet gave no signal of wanting to let you go. If it was up to you, you would stay there with him for the entire day, in the little bubble you two had created the night before and would probably burst once you had to talk about it.

It didn’t feel like a mistake which should have surprised you, actually, you couldn’t think about a better decision you had taken in your life. Dramatic, sure, but no less true.

“Just call in sick,” he grumbled, properly tucking both your bodies into the covers. You could feel the ripple of his muscles as he did it, with just one hand as with his other arm he kept you in place.

You huffed a laugh, “I’ve only called in sick once.”

“An even stronger reason to do it now.”

“Don’t you have to go to work too?”

Damian snorted, moving his head to stare at you. You did the same when you heard and felt him shuffle. “Will you stay if I say no?”

As much as you dreaded the idea of leaving for work and not seeing his handsome face, you also dreaded the idea of having to see him go.

Damian seemed to have read your mind and interpret your silence, he brushed your cold cheek with his knuckles. His steady breathing quickened a little bit, you wouldn’t have been aware of it if your head hadn’t been resting on him. “Will you avoid me again if I let you get up?”

You shuffled just enough to face him, both your hands flat on his chest. “It wasn’t personal against you.”

“It felt like it.”

“I needed time, that’s all.”

“For what?”

You took a sharp intake of air, swallowing your excess of saliva as you exhaled. “Think, meditate... however you want to call it.”

“Is that why you don’t want to use your bedroom?”

“We’re literally in my bedroom.”

He rolled his eyes, “that doesn’t mean you want to use it.”

You stared down at your hands, the natural light of the morning making Damian’s skin glow under them. “It’s strange.”

“Why?”

“I think—“ you stopped for a moment to consider your phrasing, there wasn’t any other way of saying it and getting the point across than being direct. “At first it was because of what happened that night.” You felt him tense up, your fingers immediately rubbing circles over his skin in attempts of soothing him. “But then, after I tried to convince you to go back to the manor... it just doesn’t feel the same knowing things between us won’t be like they were before because it something that happened here.” You could’ve had articulated it better, but you didn’t want to mention Tim.

“Do you want that?” Upon seeing the confusion in your face he reformulated the question, “do you want us to be like we were before?”

”You don’t?”

He shook his head in answer. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m your best friend?”

“That’s Jon.”

You lifted your fingers to playfully slap them against his chest, “don’t be sassy with me.”

“I don’t like you the way I tolerate him.”

”isn’t it weird?” you mumbled the question.

Damian pursed his lips, looking up in thought. You took your time to stare at him some more, your fingers itching to trace his facial structure. “Because of Drake?”

“Your entire family,” you clarified, wishing you could avoid the topic altogether.

“I honestly don’t care.” You only hummed. His eyelashes fluttered as he dropped his gaze, his hand back to caressing your face. “What do you think?”

“I think,” you said through a sigh, “that I’m calling in sick.”

He smirked, withdrawing his arms to allow you movement. You shivered due to the change of temperature as soon as your legs swung from the bed, a pair of panties and a t-shirt were the only clothing covering you; you hadn’t really needed more than that and the duvet to sleep warmly, Damian’s body was extremely hot— literally, in both aesthetics and temperature.

Damian granted himself the pleasure of staring at your body as you stood just in front of him while making the phone call, the bouncing of your left leg, the slight tilt of your head, your shifty eyes while listening to whatever your interlocutor was saying. The longer he stared the stronger the urge of pulling you back into bed got. The phone call hadn’t even been lengthy, he was being a brat, but it wasn’t as if he cared.

He sat up near the edge of the bed, his feet flat on the floor without any effort thanks to his height. You thanked your boss, your eyebrows furrowing when you realized Damian had changed positions. Your eyes diverted down to his torso at the same time the line clicked.

Putting your cellphone down on the bedside table, you asked, “do you want something for breakfast?”

He opened his legs for you to stand between them, hands ready to be placed on your sides the second you complied. Out of instinct, you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hot breath giving you goosebumps as it hit your neck.

Lightly brushing your face as he ever so slightly turned his, he spoke with his lips against your jaw, “Are you on the menu?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, then.”

Damian ignored the way you rolled your eyes and continued trailing kisses over your jaw and chin. You gripped his hair so he’d face you, leaning down to kiss him when he did so. His arms snaked your hips as he kissed back, opening his mouth a little bit more than you which gave you some type of advantage.

“I really like you,” you finally said out loud, mouth still hovering over his.

You felt him smile. It prompted you to put some distance between your faces in order to take the sight in. He didn’t smile often, you weren’t sure as to why but you had theories— that didn’t matter, what did was that he had gifted you an honest smile, one that showed his dimples and brightened his eyes.

The urge to cup his face overcame you, your hands slowly slid toward his jaw and as they abandoned his hair— Damian nuzzled against your left one. Your thumbs caressed his cheek softly, his inhaling and exhaling making the small hairs on your arms stand up and fall down at the rhythm of his breathing.

You hadn’t felt so much peace in a long time, it might have been the pride flowing through you at the fact that he wasn’t very open with people— much less when it came to emotions— but you let yourself entertain the idea that the real reason behind it was how easy it had always been to be yourself around him.

It only hit you when he locked his eyes with yours that you were making him feel the same way. No amount of self-sabotaging or teasing from his family could take that away from you.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #plus size fanfiction #plus size reader #robin x reader #robin x plus size reader #damian wayne #robin #dc x plus size reader #dc x reader #batfam x plus size reader #batfam x reader

[miss-choco-chips]

Teaching you, teaching me

Four times mother and son learned from and about each other, and one time Tim used his knowledge for evil good.

(Warning: Tim is older in some and younger in others, without order)

(For my babes @the-quiet-carrotcake and @animemangasoul who cheered me up when I was feeling bad, hope this makes you happy as well! 

Also, hon tagged me on a ‘five word prompt generator’ thing and I lost the post, so this is my contribution, five words that inspired each part)

Animal

When Jack died, it was sad but they were prepared. He’d been in a coma for two months by then, and Janet had practically been readying both herself and her son for the outcome. Tim had been sad, but it was more because of a possible future lost (he’d never given up the hope of his father changing one day, of Jack wanting to stay and being more present in his life), than genuine sorrow. Or so had the therapist told her.

Janet hadn’t felt bad, not really. Her relationship with her late husband had been cold long before his death, ruined by years of neglecting their son and being absent of their lives, but she suffered for her son, with his too big heart, who didn’t hesitate on wasting his tears on a father that never deserved them, the second she told him the news. 

Still, she held his hand through the entire funeral, surprised by the way he held his head on high. When he threw an arm over her shoulders to guide her away, after the service was over, she realized he was trying to be strong for her. The thirteen year old, heart breaking inside his small chest, was puffing it out to make himself seem bigger, more reliable, to comfort a mother that didn’t really need it.

Her beautiful, kind son.

Max’s death, a short two months after, was nothing like that.

The dog had been part of their household for nine, almost ten years now. Bought shortly after the circus tragedy, in a desperate attempt at soothing her son’s nightmares with the company of something fluffy and loveable, Max had grown up next to Tim, been there for any sad or happy moment, comforting him or sharing his joy by turns. The golden retriever had seem made specifically of love, giving all of it to the kid he’d been gifted to, and for that alone Janet had gone all out on his medical treatments, desperate to make him live as long as possible for a dog. 

Still, he was gone too soon, taking with him Tim’s smile and leaving ample space for tears. Tim had stayed by his side from the moment the veterinarian informed them of his chronic condition, to the tragic end of it, petting him softly and speaking in low, comforting tones.

Max’s last act before dying had been to lick Tim’s hand, the only thing he could reach from where he was lying on the dog bed, and wag his tail once. Even at death’s door, he’d showed Tim more love than his father ever had. Just for that, Janet would Max more than she did Jack.

It also baffled her, when Tim rejected her offer to bring home another dog a week after the small funeral they held in the backyard, softly closing the book on his lap to give her his full attention.

-You love getting new pets -she felt compelled to point out, because it felt like the obvious course of action.

-I do, but I also know why you are suggesting it now, and it won’t work. You can’t make me forget my sadness over losing Max by getting me a puppy, mom. 

-It’ll fill the void -she insists. Almost desperately. 

(She can’t stand to hear her child cry by himself at night, his despair breaking her heart worse than anything else ever could)

-It won’t -he says, shifting in the window seat he always choose when deep in thought or in a contemplative mood-. I loved Max, not because he was a dog, but because he was Max. Even if you buy me a hundred puppies, I’ll love them because they’d be them. It won’t make me forget my pain over Max’s death. 

She wanted to fight him on it, offer more, whatever it took to wipe the dim and far away look from his eyes, but he glanced up at her, so softly and fond, and she felt her tongue glueing itself to the top of her mouth. 

She thought, weirdly enough, of Wayne. Of how, when his first son went away, how he took another boy in. Despite loving Jason, he never stopped missing Dick. She thinks she understands, a little, where Tim was coming from.

(Tim would throw his book at her, if he knew she was comparing the Waynes to dogs, but, if the shoe fits…)

Demonstration

They say watching was the best form of learning, and Tim took it to heart. He analyzed people, going to work, hanging out with friends, buying groceries, fighting, laughing, crying… he saw, and he learned.

The one he watched the most was his mother, though.

How she smiled oh-so-politely at parties, how she ruthlessly destroyed the person speaking to her with short, well informed facts and dirty laundry. How she did both at the same time.

He went with her to DI, and took notice of the way her hips swayed with each step whenever she needed the room’s attention on her, or made her heels click extra hard against the porcelain floor when she wanted averted eyes.

She waved sweetly to her secretary, and frostily glared at the board member sitting three seats away from her.

She clenched her teeth during a phone call with someone she hated, but kept her voice perfectly smooth, warm even, as if speaking to an old friend.

He knew he would inherit the company one day. And, small as DI had been in the past, it had flourished under Janet Drake’s tender and constant care, blooming into the powerhouse it was today, on par with Wayne Enterprises. It was intimidating, to imagine all that power, all that responsibility, on his shoulders. 

Mother, Aunt Nicole, Uncle Lex, Uncle Bruce, Dick, Jay… they all said it, that Tim was too kind, too soft. He would give his hand to someone down without a thought, rather than see if they had a weapon first. Sweet, they called him, and made him blush, because he liked it. Liked that, to all that ruthless, sharp, for moments cruel people, he was a warm presence. A safe, comfortable place to lay worries to rest and smile. He liked being their sweet Timmy.

But he also despised it, because he was a gothamite, and this city ate sweet people whole for dessert, just after finishing with the foolish and naive ones that made for it’s lunch. There was no place for tender people, because that was the best kind to sink teeth into, and Gotham feeds on them. And he can’t die, because who is going to make sure mom and Nicole don’t go off the deep end? Who’s going to help Lex understand and bond with his son, with Conner? Who’s going to make sure the Waynes are getting along, when Alfred himself decides to leave them to their terrible life choices?

So he watches his mom, because she’s a prime example of someone not to be fucked with. Someone who is going to survive this wreck of a city until her drawn out, bitter end, and when that comes, she’ll go kicking and screaming and suing people to the ends of the earth. She doesn’t fear Gotham, and while sure as fuck Gotham doesn’t fear her either, it at least respects her. 

So he watches, and memorizes, and adapts behaviours and gestures into his own, tries to mimic the look in her eyes that send people flinching back and laughing nervously.

And, since he’s watching, he notices that she knows. How she’d look over her shoulder, straight into his eyes, as if saying ‘pay attention, I’m only showing you this once’ before she does something particularly tricky. Demonstrates her way of surviving, and lets him learn from it to make his own.

Tim, eleven years old, so tender and soft he’s like a warm, eatable bunny in everyone’s opinion, closes his eyes and breathes in, deeply. When he opens them, the icy blue of his gaze is enough to send the closest board member stumbling back and mumbling an apology (for what, who knows) before scurrying out of the room. 

Mom looks back to the rest of the board, but Tim knows (because he watches her all the time, he’s learned her to the smallest detail) that she’s smiling. 

She’s proud.

Galaxy

It’s late, and she feels sick and wants nothing more than to go to sleep. She’d basically lived at the office this last week, because of some stupid mistake Jack had made with the one piece of paperwork she needed him to sign (how he manages to screw up from all the way across the world, she can’t quite understand; it surely requires talent), and feels about ready to collapse on her bed.

But, because it’s been a while since she saw him, something in her gut tells her to go look for her son. Tim’s probably asleep right now, it’s almost four a.m, but if she’s silent enough, she could sneak a quick peek through the door, make sure he’s fine, and then go to bed completely unburdened.

Except, when she gets there, she’s treated to the sight of her son, her eight year old son, getting back into his room from God knows where by climbing through his window. Which, by the way, was located on the third floor.

Janet pressed a hand to her chest, as if to make sure her heart was still beating. It was, but the speed couldn't be normal.

Was this a heart attack? 

Hidden by the shadows on the hallway, she noticed how he removed his tiny sneakers, that she had completely forgot he even owned, and thrusted them under the bed. They were worn out, full of grim, obviously used often for activities like sneaking out at night and climbing the house. 

Yes, she was having a heart attack. And an aneurysm. Simultaneously.

The camera around his neck, she did remember. The one gift he had asked for his last birthday, the only thing he ever begged her for. She hadn’t understand his passion for owning one, but since he never had looked so earnest (and wanting to make up for Jack missing the day) she conceded.

Was it a mistake? Watching the little boy making himself comfortable in his bed, going through the photos in the camera with the most delighted expression ever, she felt like ‘fuck yes’ wasn’t a strong enough answer.

Her first impulse, to jump inside the room and demand answers, was squashed down almost as soon as it hitted her. If she did, Tim would clam up and deny everything. Instead, she breathed in deeply and tapped her knuckles against the doorframe.

Tim almost jumped straight out of his skin, looking at her like a thief caught red handed. It’d be almost funny, if her heartbeat wasn’t still off the charts.

-Timothy, it’s quite late. Why are you awake at this hour? And with your camera? -she made a show of scanning his clothing, as if she wasn’t aware of the jeans and hoodie- Why aren’t you on your pajamas?

She could almost hear him thinking, brilliant mind kicking into overdrive as her prodigious son searched for an answer that would satisfy his mother and keep him out of trouble. Shame no such answer existed.

-I… was outside, mama -he mumbled; calling her like that, amping up the cuteness, was almost overdoing it, but she supposed the situation called for big guns- Taking pictures of the sky. I-I know it’s dark, and polluted, but I heard today was going to be extra-starry, and I thought maybe I could photograph the stars for you?

He was good, she ought to give him that. But years too young to even try to lie to her.

-I see -she answers, calmly walking closer to him. Her face betrayed nothing, and she could see how that was getting into him by the way he was fondling with the camera, almost carelessly compared to his earlier reverent touch.

He flinched when she sat by his side.

-M-mom?

-Well? -an arched eyebrow- Aren’t you going to show me? You did something incredibly dangerous, climbing down your window- no, don’t even try to lie, I saw you climbing back in. Don’t think we won’t be talking about that in the morning. But you did something truly reckless, for those pictures for me. The least I can do is see them.

Quick, trembling hands fumbled a bit with the buttons. Janet was honestly surprised when he turned the camera around, showing actual sky pictures to her. She believed it a bluff. Maybe preventive measures, in case he got caught? She was sure he was lying, because even if they were sky pictures, it wasn’t a particularly nice view, all foggy and polluted Gotham landscape.

She also noticed (though pretended not to) how those angles weren't ones he could achieve from their backyard, which upped her panic levels a few notches. Her baby had been alone, at night, away from home, in this shithole of a city.

-What a pity -she says, instead, giving back the camera, despite her burning desire to search for older pictures to get an idea of her son’s true activities-, those look like the usual sky. I would have loved to see the stars. Well, not your fault, this place is just ugly. Maybe we should move to Metropolis, I’m sure there are stars there.

-Mom…!

-Hush, now, go to sleep. We are talking about sneaking out and bedtimes tomorrow, I’m too tired right now.

She could see his anxiety (at moving away? Why did he love this place so much?), but he must have realized he’d push his luck too far if he insisted, so he kissed her cheek and let her tuck him in. 

Despite her bone-deep tiredness, Janet couldn't get a single second of shut eye at all. By six a.m and truly out of ideas, she picked up the phone. Too respectful of Nicole’s boundaries to bother her at that hour (or at least, not desperate enough; had the situation been a little more urgent, she wouldn’t have hesitated to drag her to the manor kicking and screaming), she called Lex.

At the fifth ring, her old friend's voice answered- I have a conference with the president in a few hours and need rest, this better be important.

-Please, your sleep schedule is even worse than mine. I need an opinion.

-And is Al Ghul unavailable? Why are you bothering me, when you two usually ignore my advice and go to each other?

-Don’t be jealous, green isn’t your color. Lavender isn’t either, but well, I guess you can’t win all your battles…

-Bold words for someone asking for help.

-Who said anything about help? I just need a new perspective. And I’m already regretting going to you for it.

-Well, I’m awake now, so might as well. Mercy -Luthor’s voice sounded a little muffled, probably covering the receiver while he addressed his bodyguard slash buttler- I’ll be in the study, bring me coffee.

She gave him a few minutes, twirling one of her dark locks in her pointer finger. Laying in bed, unmade by all the tossing and turning she did for the last hours, she looked the picture of unrest. Luthor would laugh himself sick if he saw her now.

-Alright, I have coffee now. What happened?

-I caught Tim coming back home  after sneaking out last night. It looked like he did it before, multiple times; he had specific shoes for it that he hid, and even got some backup-plan photographs to make it look like he was just in the backyard photograpying the sky.

She heard the squeaking sound his chair made as he sat straighter, floored by her confession. 

-You should oil that chair. Is unbecoming for your image if it makes that kind of sounds everytime you move on it.

-Sorry, I can’t answer properly to the last part because I’m still reeling for the opening bit.

-Weak.

He ignored her (rude), muttering under his breath- Tim what? No, he wouldn’t… well, he does have Janet’s genes, so maybe…

-So -she cut him off, because if he kept that line of thinking, she would hang up and he still hadn’t given her any advice-, your thoughts?

-Get a bodyguard on him 24-7 who’ll keep him from going out at night -he answered quick as a wip, not even needing to think it through. She huffed.

-If it were that easy, I wouldn't need your opinion, you fool. This is my son we are talking about. Guilt and duty might keep him from going out, if I appeal to those, but brute force and shackles? He’s smart, smarter than you, maybe even than me. If he really wants to go, and finds no moral obstacles, he’ll find a way. 

-So, do what you said, attack his conscience. 

-I want to keep him safe, not emotionally destroy him.

-Forbid him from going? Like you said, he’s a dutiful son, and very well behaved.

-Which means he’ll make sure I think he’s obeying, but no guarantees he’ll actually do it. Think harder.

A few minutes went by, before the man sighed.

-You said it yourself, if he really wants to go, there’s little you can do, short of locking him up like a prince in a tower. Maybe speak to him, tell him your reasons to worry… and get him some martial arts teacher, to give him a fighting chance if he ends up disobeying anyway.

----.----

After speaking to Luthor and a quick call to Nicole for a favor (namely, get Lady Shiva to accept a work as a sensei for Tim), Janet slept for a solid nine hours. Eating, overseeing some papers and phoning her secretary to clean her schedule for the rest of the week, and she was ready to face her son after having dinner together. 

They sat on Tim’s bed, and she held his hand as she spoke to him. About how cold it was, how easy it was, before he was born. How life was do this, think about that, conquer here, throw something away there. Act, consequence, simple as that. Clinical as that.

It was different, she said, when he came to her life, to her arms. Because it was warm, and difficult, and so, so scary. She’d never been so afraid of the butterfly effect before. Now, consequences of a misstep could come to bite her in twenty years, a simple act  now could make Tim despise her in the future.

“I’ve never been so afraid in my life”, she told him, baring her soul for the first time in her life. “But I’ve also never been happier, and it’s all because of you.”

“I love you”, she told him, giving her heart away for the first time in her life. “And I can’t lose you.”

Those words were the hardest for her to say. She did it, anyway. Because he needed to hear them, and because they might be enough to keep him from pulling last night’s stunt again.

By the time she was done, Tim’s face was a mess of tears and snot. He hadn’t uttered a single word, holding onto her hand like a lifeline, but his smile was the brightest, prettiest thing she’s ever seen.

-I’ll be careful, Mom -he promised, between wrecked sobs. It had truly affected him, to hear her heart thoughts so bluntly. She ought to do this more often, if he treasured it so much- I.. I won’t go out at night alone, not until I’m someone not even the Rogues can mess with. I promise -he looks at his bedside table, where the camera sits, and looks regretful but determined at the same time. She knows he means it. Whatever feeling he got from sneaking out to take pictures, it evidently wasn’t as strong as what he felt now, holding his mom’s hand and shaking from such strong emotions.

-Thank you -she breathed in deeply, relaxing for the first time since the night before, letting go of his hand to hug his shoulders, pressing him into her side.

After a few seconds of silence, he weaseled out of her hold, raising a hand to halt her when she tried to follow his example and get up- Stay there a minute, Mom, I have something to show you.

With that, he sprinted to the light switch, and turned them off. But a slight, greenish glow remained in the room, and then she noticed the glow in the dark stars sticking to the ceiling.

There were… a lot of them.

Tim came back and sat once again next to her, hand quickly snatching hers.

-You said… you said you wanted to see the stars, so I made you a little galaxy. Whenever you want to see them, you can come here… You’ll also know, that way, that I’m here and not sneaking out.

Thanking people wasn’t something Janet did often. But she had said ‘I love you’ today, and that one was a first, so this wasn’t too far fetched for her.

-Thank you, Tim.

Feedback

A week after showing his mother his multiple closets full of disguises and aliases’ clothing, he was called into her office. 

He had expected some questions, maybe even feedback or advice in how to perfect his portrayal of other people.

He hadn’t expected this.

-..and I know I’m not as… adapted to the ever changing times as younger people like you. Me, Lex, sometimes Nicole, we are too set on our ways, but. 

She cleared her throat. Tim still wasn’t sure he wasn’t having some kind of fever dream.

-But. It’s important for you to know that I… I won’t ever judge you for something you are. I might judge your actions, like when you accept Todd’s offers for a ride downtown, or Grayson’s requests for a dance, or when you are too dumb/ kind, too kind, towards other people… But I’ll never judge you for something you didn’t choose. Like this.

In the midst of this confusing speech, Tim still couldn't quiet comprehend why mom was gesturing towards the shoes on the desk. They were simple, red heels, not even that high, belongings of Caroline Hill, one of his more successful aliases. It was a wonder how people on the Alley’s clinic hadn’t catched on that their favorite voluntary nurse slash doctor in training was a fifteen year old kid instead of the nineteen year old shy girl they thought, but it was an ego boost when they called him Miss Hill, and a boost to his medical skills when they taught him something new.

-I understand this is an… -a quick glance to the papers in her desk. Had mom… wrote this down beforehand? What…?- age of changes, yes, an age of changes for you. And you are… discovering- no, learning yourself. And I’m honored that you trusted me enough to show me that, and came to me in this… confusing times.

Tim opened his mouth to speak. Mom seemed to panic, as much as mom ever did anyways, quickly sorting through her sheets of… Information? Pointers?

-Not that I think you are confused! I trust that you know yourself the best, and I trust whatever you say to me are your honest feelings on the matter. 

-I… I am confused -he managed to blurt out. 

Mom winced, and searched among her papers some more. When she seemed to find whatever it was, she pulled it above the others, gave them a quick glance, and kept going- It’s okay if you don’t know it yet, too. There’s more than just… male or female. According to my research, there’s a ‘neither’, ‘both’ and ‘sometimes one, sometimes the other’ option.

Janet seemed lost at her own words. Tim could relate. He wasn’t even sure they were talking about his aliases anymore.

-What I mean to say is -she breathed in deeply, letting the papers fall to the desk and meeting his eyes head on-, I love you. You are my son, daughter, neither, both, whatever you feel, but still mine. My child, and nothing you do about your… identity or sexuality can change that. I’ll always accept you, as you are. And if anyone ever gives you trouble about it, you can always come to me and I’ll set their minds straight, or remove them from the picture.

Tim felt fondness surging in his chest, even as his mind came to an abrupt halt when he finally understood what this was all about.

-You might have to be patient with me, or explain some concepts, as I learn about this, because its all new information to me. But I promise you I’ll always love you no matter what, and I’m willing and ready to do my best to/

-Mom -he finally choked up, torn between embarrassment and profound love- I’m not… I’m a boy. I really, really appreciate all this, but you don’t need to… I mean, the shoes and clothes? It’s because I’m making aliases, so I can learn different things and meet people without it being traced back to me. Like, tools. Caroline Hill, the shoes owner, for example, is a tool to learn about medicine, and practice the way of women in case I ever need to disguise myself as one. Not… not actual representations of Tim Drake.

There was a minute of silence.

-Well, this is… unexpected.

-But -he continued, cheeks warm but hurting from smiling so hard- you are the best mom ever, and this learning you are doing? It’s great, even if not applicable to me, because it… it’s good, for people to understand and accept other people like that. It makes you a better person, and I’m really proud of you.

He got up from his seat and walked around the desk, sitting in the floor by his mom’s chair like he did when he was a toddler, and rested his head in her lap, hugging her legs, eyes going to hers with wonder and happiness. She seemed utterly relieved, both at not having fucked up their chat, and at him not being mad at the misunderstanding.

-Aliases, huh. I can help with that. We can talk about it over dinner, and I’ll give you some suggestions.

-Thanks, mom. And, hum, since you brought up the whole gender and sexuality stuff… this might be a good moment to let you know I’m bi.

Long, sharp nails scratched his scalp softly, his eyes closing almost on instinct. Her laugh ringed in his ears.

-It doesn’t matter to me, Timothy. Boy, girl… whoever you bring home, I’ll…

He smiled, expectant.

-... never accept them. No one, no matter their genders, is good enough for my son.

Ah, there she was, the mother he knew and loved.

Movie

Tim, sitting in his study, didn’t even raise his eyes from the paperwork mom had assigned him (to help make him accustomed to dealing with it for when he’ll have a more central role in DI)  when the door opened and closed with a bang. He continued signing contracts with one hand, while the other patted his desk for his phone, shooting a quick text to the butler without looking.

-Can you believe it? -his intruder clamored, walking back and forth in front of Tim’s desk, hands messing through long locks of black hair.

-No -he replied, eyes still not leaving his work- It's amazing, how the stock market dropped on Wayne Enterprises. What is Bruce thinking, with the neon knights? He can’t do that and then go gallivanting around the world alone again, the stockholders won’t stand for such a big inversion without the logical follow up. I need to phone Damian about this, maybe he can ask his brothers to pose as Bruce and/

-I’m not talking about your precious Waynes!

-I know -he replied, hand finishing the last stroke of his signature, raising his eyes to his godmother just as the door opened and the butler brought a tea (and coffee) set, placing it by the little table in the corner of the study-, but I needed a few minutes to finish this before paying attention to you, Aunt. Now, a cup of tea? I’ll be having coffee, but it might not be the best for your frayed nerves.

-My nerves aren’t frayed, you little brat. Show some respect. Where is my cute little angel of a godson? -she complained, sitting as elegantly as ever in the plus couch by the little table. Tim sat opposite her.

-He hasn't slept in three days -and is being asked to meddle into adult’s problems, but he didn’t voice that part, merely mixing ingredients in the steaming cup-, It’s natural to be bitter. Now, tea?

She didn’t answer, but accepted the offered drink, already prepared to her tastes perfectly. Despite her anger, she smiled. Two sugars, no milk, a little lemon, the smallest hint of vodka. Her godson knew her so well.

A few seconds went by as Tim readied his own coffee and downed half. The butler topped the cup for him, and then left just as quietly as he had came.

-Now, want to tell me what has you so mad?

He already knew, but playing innocent was one of his strengths. Bruce still blamed Dick for the incident on the music room of the manor, despite the fact that Tim had been there at the moment and his eldest far away on a secret mission civilian Tim wasn't supposed to know about. That was the true power of a goodie two shoes.

-Your mother, she… You know we were planning on going to the movies today, and she…!

-Ah -he nodded, as if only catching up then- She went with Dana, right?

Nicole gritted her teeth, downing her cup in one long glup to calm herself. Tim merely took the teapot and filled it again.

-Janet doesn’t even like the movies! She hates being around other people. The only reason she goes is to humor me, and now… That woman…

-Dana is a good person -he intervened, because he genuinely liked her. Dana Winters had been in charge of taking care of his comatose dad until his death, and they had spent some time together during his visits to Jack. A lot of his alias Caroline Hill had been based on her. And right now, she...

-Too good -Nicole muttered, which Tim suspects, was the root of the problem.

-Shouldn't you be glad? -he asked, head tilted in his best show of naivety- That mom is trying to get someone kind to be by her side? Dad wasn’t… dad wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t as nice to mom as he could have been. I, for one, want her to be happy.

-Janet doesn’t do nice.

It took everything in him to not answer ‘well, she might tonight’, because that would ruin his innocent image, and he was afraid Nicole might actually stab Dana. Really, refraining himself like that was almost painful. Mom better appreciate his sacrifice.

-The nicest thing she could ever stand was you -she continued, ignorant to her godson’s internal struggle-, and you are her baby.

-I’m fifteen -he felt compelled to inform her, but was promptly shushed.

-To us, you never grew past your chubby stage.

-I didn’t have a chubby stage, and you can’t prove otherwise -he’d know. He was the one who got rid of the evidence.

-Back to the point… Dana is no good fit for your mom. She’d end up tearing off her own hair in frustration in less than a month after countless discussions of morality and ‘doing the right thing’. She can barely resist when it’s you doing the nagging and, again, you are the exception to all of Janet’s rules.

Tim hummed, thinking distractedly how someone as smart as Nicole couldn’t see that Dana’s good heart wasn’t the problem here. Oh well, he needed to be a little more direct.

-And who do you think would be a good match for mom? Someone distant, like dad? Or easily manipulated?

A growling almost came out of Nicole’s mouth. Tim refilled his coffee cup again.

-Neither… those make for good tools, but not partners. Janet needs someone who understands her, who couldn’t judge, who likes her as rotten and twisted as she is.

Should he protest? This was his mother they were talking about. Not that she was wrong, but… still.

Deciding against it, because he needed to get back to work and this conversation was already exhausting, he nodded- Mm, but plenty of people in high society adore her... 

-Those fools either don’t know of her true nature, or are too scared of it. None would make for a good life companion.

-So, someone who isn’t scared of her, knows her inside out, isn’t morally upright…

-They should also have similar objectives in life -Nicole interjected, empty cup clattering against the plater when she placed it there-, otherwise Janet might feel the need to remove them to keep them off her way.

-Objectives, like…?

-Staying on top of the food chain of the corporate world, for example. And keeping loved ones safe. Like you, for her.

“And Damian, for you”, he didn’t say. Finally, they seemed to be reaching the end of the discussion. Just a few more lines...

-And they should be strong -she kept on, digging her own grave for Tim’s convenience-, because Janet is, too, which means her enemies are as well, and she needs someone to have her back if she ever needs it.

-I don’t think -he wondered, finger tapping his chin in childlike confusion- that such a person exists. Someone as morally compromised as mom, strong enough to help her achieve her objectives, who knows her and loves her. I never met someone like that… I mean, besides you.

Time seemed to stop for Nicole, who dropped the scon she had halfway through her mouth. Tim knew what having a romantic realization felt like, so he let her deal with it while he finished his coffee. After a few minutes letting her stew, he force a look of curiosity and concern on his face- Aunt Nicole? Are you alright? You went really quiet…

Nicole wasn’t sitting in front of him any longer. Okay, he’ll forgive the rudeness, in the spirit of love and all that. Picking up his phone, he sent Dana a quick text, warning her to make herself scarce.

“Everything going according to plan on my end”

“Ah, okay. I’ll thank Janet for accompanying me, and ask her to just be friends. Then I’ll catch a taxi :) “

“Yeah, let me know once you are back on your house, it’s getting pretty late”

“Aw, you’re such a gentleman. Me and your mom spent all afternoon talking about you, you know. And Nicole”

“You buttered her up to the idea?”

“She seemed to be considering ending this ‘date’ early as well to go looking for her, so I’m guessing I did ;) “

“Thank you again, Dana “

“Make sure they invite me to the wedding, and we’re even!”

“If they don’t elope, that’s it”

“They won’t. That would mean missing the chance to make Uncle Lex miserable by asking him to plan the whole ceremony”

Smiling despite himself, he put his coffee cup down and went back to his desk. Better to get work out of the way before Mom and Nicole came back and informed him of the good news. 

Shocked face number three might do.

#Tim Drake #janet drake #Janet Drake au #Nicole Al Ghul (oc) #My writing #lex luthor #dana winters #dana is not involved in the way you'd expect #sexuality and gender identity discussed #janet tries y'all #janet drake is a good mom #misunderstandings #jack dies but we care more about the dog's death tbh

[vikingpoteto]

the curse of cousin Chad

Read on AO3

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Relationships:  GEN. Tim Drake & Jason Todd & Stephanie Brown

Summary: Tim Drake's only wish is for people to stop talking about Red Robin on the news (and a monkey's paw finger curls somewhere as Chad Wayne shows up in their lives.)

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Red Robin had been better, but he had been worse too.

After Batgirl helps him sit down, he stops for a second and decides that he probably doesn’t have any broken bones, just more than a few bruises forming. Batgirl all but falls by his side, exhausted, and judging by the groan she lets out she must be just as sore. Still, she extends her fist for a bump and he grins as he obliges.

“Well, no one got shot or stabbed, so that’s a win on my book,” Red Robin says.

“That and we put away a dangerous gang that had been terrorizing the locals for months,” she reminds him.

“Yeah, that too.”

He glances around and decides the building they chose is tall enough that they can relax for a bit. He pulls down his cowl. Tim lets out a long relieved sigh when the cold night air touches his face. Batgirl follows his cue, even if she struggles with her hair for a bit to do so. The two of them let their legs dangle from the edge of the rooftop, unbothered by the height, their gazes on the sky.

Heavy footsteps approach the young vigilantes from behind, but neither Tim nor Steph worries, because they’re familiar with the sound. As expected, a third vigilante soon enough takes the spot by Steph’s other side, his helmet already under his arm and his face mask free.

“You two look really beaten considering you weren’t fighting alone tonight,” Jason says.

Steph flips him off.

Tim rolls his eyes. “There were a lot of weaklings, okay? Sometimes that’s more annoying than one strong guy.”

“If you say so.”

“How about your night?” Steph asks casually.

“Kicked some ass, shot the kneecaps of the most stubborn ones. All in a night’s work.”

They nod and resume watching the sky for a brief peaceful moment. So high above they can barely hear the sounds of sirens and late night traffic on the streets.

Then Steph sits up so fast she almost slips down the edge. Tim and Jason grab her shoulders by reflex and pull her back at the same time.

Ignoring the fact that she almost died, Steph shouts: “What time is it?”

“Hm... about 2am?” Tim checks his wrist pad. “Yeah, 2:35.”

“Oh my God!” She groans, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “We missed the countdown by, like, a lot! How did we not hear the fireworks?”

“Gunshots?” Jason suggests.

“Fireworks and gunshots don’t sound the same, we all know the difference.”

Tim rolls his eyes, because this is so them. Of course they’d miss the start of the new year because they were busy fighting crime. Steph and Tim were even planning on going to WE’s New Year’s party together after what was supposed to be a super quick patrol, just to stop a few muggers, really . Tim is glad they did, even if Lucius is going to scold him on Monday. He hates those parties.

“Well, I have a little something here to celebrate,” Jason says with a crooked grin.

He turns his helmet upside down, revealing a bottle of booze. Of course the dramatic bitch had it hidden, just waiting for the right moment to reveal it. Steph whoops excitedly.

“Jason, you’re my hero! I mean… B is gonna kill us if he finds we were drinking in uniform, but it’s not like he’ll find out, right?”

Jason hands the bottle to Tim first, his smile positively wicked. Having been given this sort of gift from Jason before, Tim rolls his eyes and takes a generous chug without hesitation. His eyes tear up a bit at the taste when he passes the bottle to Steph.

She happily drinks straight from the bottle like Tim had… Then she freezes.

"Jason?"

“Yeah, Steph?”

“What the heck is this?”

“Spinach and lettuce juice. Timmy needs those antibodies."

"Jason, why are you like this?

"You didn’t think I was giving you guys alcohol, did you? You two are minors.”

Tim grins. He can tell Steph is trying to decide whether to throw the bottle overboard or at Jason’s head.

Before she decides, he turns his gaze back to the sky and asks: “You guys made any New Year’s wishes?”

“Resolutions,” Steph corrects. “Wishes are for birthdays.”

Jason makes a high-pitched voice, “wow, look at me, I’m Stephanie Brown, my mom loves me so much she celebrated my birthday!”

Tim laughs. “Geez, I’ll drink to that.”

There are no words to describe the horror in Steph’s face when he takes back the bottle and drinks a little more of the green juice.

He simply shrugs. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Deciding it’s not worth the trouble, Steph shakes her head and says, “I’m keeping it simple this year. My only resolution is to pass all my classes for once in my life. What about you, Jay?”

“I don’t do that corny shit.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I know you guys like corny shit.”

“We’ve seen you cry over Jane Austen, your edgelord bullcrap doesn’t work on us,” Steph says. When Jason tries to protest that his eyes were just tearing up from yawning, she turns to Tim: “What about you? Any New Year wishes?”

“Just one, too,” Tim says. “I wanna make sure every non-criminal forgets Red Robin ever existed.”

Jason and Steph snort.

“I’m serious. No more shipping me with my family, no more stalkers. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure no reporter writes the words ‘Red Robin’ ever again.”

“Good luck with that, Timbers.”

Tim drinks his lettuce juice in silence. He hands the bottle back to Jason. Steph pretends to gag when he also takes a long sip. Despite their incredulity, Tim is feeling positive about his goal. He feels like after the Red Twins craze died down, people lost interest in him. He thinks he can pull it off.

If only he knew.

Tim almost never visits the manor anymore. He’s been to the Batcave once or twice on the past few months, but the house itself… he doesn’t even remember the last time. He decides to stop by on a rare free afternoon, hoping Duke and Cass will be around. If not, seeing Alfred outside the cave and having a cup of tea with him was more than enough.

He lets himself in, because he knows it makes Alfred begrudgingly happy when any of the kids acts as though they still live there rather than politely ringing the bell. It also makes Damian mad, which is always a plus.

Hearing voices from the living room, Tim heads straight there, excited that there’s someone home. His smile freezes on his face. Whatever he was expecting to see, it wasn’t… that.

Bruce is sitting near the fireplace pinching the bridge of his nose as he does when his children are fighting among themselves. On the opposite couch is none other than Jason being embraced by a complete stranger that is currently sobbing into his shoulder.

Jason’s gaze meet Tim’s in what is clearly a plea for help. All Tim can do is mouth who the hell is that? to which Jason mouths back I have no fucking idea.

“Would you look at that, Tim’s here,” Bruce says. Tim has the feeling he’s trying to save Jason.

The sniffling stranger pulls back and turns around. “Oh god. You’re a man now, Timmy! Last time I saw you, you were just a tiny kid!”

To Tim’s complete horror, the man stands and comes hug him tightly.

“Uh… ”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” the man gives a watery chuckle “of course you don’t remember me. You were a basically a toddler and I was also a kid when I last saw you. I’m Chad, your father’s cousin.”

“Oh. You’re…”

“I mean, Bruce's cousin. I knew Jack, though. He was good people.”

“Bruce’s cousin. Hm. So your name is Chad Wayne, huh?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing,” Tim pretends not to see Jason hide a snicker into his hand. “Sounds… cool.”

“Chad is visiting Gotham for a couple of weeks,” Bruce tells him. “He just graduated from college in Central City and decided it was a good idea to visit old relatives. It was such a great surprise when he arrived.”

“Right,” Chad wipes the tears from his face, “and I happened to run right into Jason here and oof. Saying I was surprised doesn’t cover it.”

His jovial laughter is so genuine that it’s almost unsettling.

“Oh. You… You know Jason."

“Yeah, man. My family was in a year long trip to Africa, so we didn’t hear about his death until a long time had passed. My parents were crushed that they couldn’t be there for Brucie then. Bruce was telling me about how you guys got him back. Nothing short of a miracle, huh?”

“A miracle,” Jason echoes.

Chad scratches his own nape, finally looking appropriately embarrassed. “Sorry I got so emotional, Jason. I almost didn’t recognize you, you got so jacked , man. I guess I have a good memory for faces.”

He speaks so fast. Steph always complains that Tim speaks too fast whenever he is in the zone and caffeinated, but that was nothing compared to Chad’s rambling.

“Oh well. C'mere, Tim, sit with us, let me get to know you guys. Even if I’m your father’s cousin, I guess I’m closer in age to you two ahaha...”

Tim is known for being a quick thinker, but something about Chad’s khaki shorts and how out of place they look in Gotham stuns him into inaction. He lets Chad drag him to the couch and doesn’t say anything else on pure fear that the guy is about to do it to ‘em.

“Actually,” Jason stands, “Tim is here to pick me up. We have this, hm, doctor’s appointment. To check my… eyes. Yeah, my eyes. Tim’s gonna drive me.”

“Oh, that’s alright, we can talk more when you two come back.”

“Back?” Tim parrots.

“Actually, Chad, Jason and Tim don’t live in the manor,” Bruce says. “They share an apartment around downtown.”

For the first time, Chad drops his too-blessed-to-be-stressed smile and frowns. “What? Why? I thought you guys just got Jason back. Shouldn’t he stay with you, Bruce?”

“Actually, that’s a funny story,” Jason says, taking Tim by the arm. “I’m sure Bruce will love to tell you all about it. I can’t be late for my appointment, isn’t that right, lil' bro?”

“Uh… Yeah. Being dead made his insurance skyrocket and the cancelation fees are a nightmare.”

“Hm-hum, all that. See you around and stuff.” Jason is holding Tim’s arm with such force that it’ll bruise for sure. They’re still on the way to the door when he hisses: “ Get me out of here right now.”

“But I didn’t even see Alfred,” he whispers back.

“ Now, Timothy ! ”

They don’t stop powerwalking until they’re in the car. Jason doesn’t bother going back for his bike and Tim makes a mental note to ask Cass to bring it back to their place later.

For a second, they just breathe Gotham’s polluted air to remind themselves they’re still home and not in a Disney sitcom.

That’s when Jason starts ranting. Apparently he was on the way to the kitchen to get just a bowl of cereal when he walked into Alfred getting the door open for cousin Chad. Alfred had said "Master Jason, I didn’t know you were here" and cousin Chad recognized him and started losing it. Bruce didn’t let Jason kill him, unfortunately, but managed to pull a story out of his ass about Jason coming back from the dead after someone from the Justice League messed up the timeline or something like that. The official story is that they found Jason just a couple of weeks ago and are still working out the kinks of having a family member return from the grave. Except Jason’s speech was a lot more convoluted and involved a lot of curse words and shakespearean insults.

“...and I didn’t even get my freaking cereal!” he finishes, just as Tim parks in front of their home.

“Well. That was an afternoon you just had,” Tim says. Jason huffs and gruffs on the way to the elevator. Tim waits until the doors close to say: “Bruce didn’t pull that story out of his ass, by the way.”

Jason frowns. “What?”

“Your cover story,” Tim clarifies. “He had it for years. I know everything about it if you want the details. He asked me for feedback when he was figuring how to make it believable and whatnot.”

“What? When? Why?”

“As soon as we found out you were alive. He wanted to be ready in case you decided to officially join the family again. It took a few days of work, but the plan exists and is ready to go whenever.”

Jason doesn’t say anything. Tim had expected that, so he allows him to mull over the newfound knowledge. He also expects Jason to head straight for the kitchen, which he does, and Tim follows his brother closely, not commenting on the tension of his shoulders or the way his jaw is set tight enough to crack a few teeth.

When his brother just stands near the sink apparently unsure of what to do with himself, Tim gets milk from the fridge and starts preparing a bowl of cereal.

“What were you doing there, anyway?”

“I went to see Alfred,” Jason mumbles. “But he was busy, so I was… I was talking to Bruce for a bit.”

“Oh?”

Jason grabs the bowl Tim is offering him. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up.” And Jason stomps his way to his room, slamming the door after him.

When Steph shows up after class, Tim tells her not to bother him.

WAYNE FAMILY

Tim: @Bruce so wats his deal

Bruce: Dear Tim, what do you mean by that? sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Tim: chad

Tim: whats his night persona

Tim: his masked name

Bruce: Tim, Chad is not a vigilante. sincerely, Bruce Wayne

Dick: shoot

Dick: he’s a villain???

Bruce: Dear Dick, Chad is not a villain either. He’s just a civillian. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Duke: dont he want to avenge his parents?

Bruce: Dear Duke, His parents are alive and well. They’re international activists currently on a mission to feed the poor somewhere in South America. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Damian: That means he’s must be a sleeper agent of sorts. I’ll collect some of his DNA for examination. Drake, I trust you’ll do a thorough check on his background, official and otherwise.

Tim: on it

Bruce: Damian, if you get your second-cousin’s DNA to run tests, your weekend at the Kent farm is permanently cancelled.

Jason: so b you admit you text like it’s a business email just to fuck with us, huh?

Bruce: Dear Jason, Mind your language in front of your little brothers. Sometimes I’ll sacrifice the format for the sake of speed. Regardless, this is the ideal way of writing a text message. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce: @everyone Chad will be staying with us for a few weeks. He’s just a regular civilian with no tragic backstory, no metapowers and no secret identity. I expect all of you to behave like Alfred taught you and hide your secret identities like I trained you to. No one will investigate him or do anything to compromise our identities. Is that clear? Awaiting confirmation, Bruce Wayne

Cass: weird

Bruce: Dearest Cass, It’s not weird. Civilians exist. Sincerely, Bruce Wayne

Tim: not in our family they dnt!!!

Tim: cmon b you cant tell me s not suspicious!!!!!

Bruce: It is not.

Alfred: Master Bruce already checked his DNA for metagenes and ran a thorough background check with the help of miss Barbara. Unfortunately, Master Chad is clear.

Cass: weeeeeiiiiird

Tim decides to avoid Wayne manor for the foreseeable future. Instead, he buys Alfred’s favorite brand of tea and wonders if he can convince the butler to come over to stay with them for an afternoon or perhaps the whole weekend. Tim is more than willing to share the couch with Steph and let Alfred have his bed. He puts the tea away with a passive aggressive note letting Jason and Steph know that tea is to be saved for Alfred.

Jason is in the living room cleaning one of his guns while Steph does her homework on the carpet by his feet, meaning is just an afternoon like any other for them.

Tim has to remind himself of her resolution before he gives in the temptation of asking her to go patrolling with him. The thing is that his resolution is a lot easier to pursue when Batgirl is around, because she can deal with the civilians after the fact while Red Robin vanishes as soon as the criminals are in cuffs.

Alas. Working alone can be fun, too, he tells himself.

Before he heads out to get his suit, however, the buzzer sounds. He hears Steph cheering and saying something about pizza.

Then a voice that makes Tim freeze in horror.

“Oh, hey. I must have the wrong apartment. Is this Tim and Jason Wayne’s place?”

“Uhhhh…”

He runs so fast Bart would be proud, hoping he can sign at Steph to send him away before he sees them, but it’s too late. Tim rushes only to find out that, in all the glory of his khaki shorts and boat shoes, Chad Wayne is already inside his apartment.

Tim is very aware that Jason is frozen on the couch right behind him, still holding a gun.

“Chad! What a surprise!”

“Hey, Timbo!” Chad grins, looking genuinely happy to see him. “Damian told me you wouldn’t be working tonight and then he gave me your address!”

Why, god? Why hadn’t Tim killed Damian when he had the chance?

“And who is this lovely young woman?” He asks. “If she isn’t spoken for, I might want to steal her for me.”

“I’m his ex, actually, and I sort of live here.” Steph offers her hand. “I speak for myself.”

Instead of shaking her hand, Chad brings her fingers to his lips and gives them an excuse of a kiss. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma damme .”

Steph’s smile is too wide to be natural and her eyes look like they’re about to jump out of the sockets. Like the rest of the family, she seems to struggle to believe this guy is real. Tim can’t save her, he just wishes Jason would put away his things while cousin Chad is busy with Steph.

“So, Chad, it’s so nice to see you, but uhhh... What are you doing here?”

“Well, since you guys never go over I had to come see you! And trust me, I get it , when I let my folks’ place to go to college, I wanted to spend even the breaks at my frat house. Anyway, I thought I’d come here, we can order some take out and…”

His eyes finally find Jason and he freezes. “...is that a gun?”

Crap, poop, turd, crap,  crapcrapcrapcrap-

“Uhhh… yeah?”

In the same way when he heard that Jason doesn’t live with Bruce, Chad’s positive vibes vanish and he looks distraught.

“Guys… does Bruce know about that?”

Before anyone can stop him, Chad walks in like he owns the place and takes the seat by Jason’s side. Tim and Steph exchange a panicked look, both praying that the gun isn’t easy to assemble or at least that Jason doesn’t have any ammo within arms reach. The two hurry to join them, Steph dropping on the couch and casually leaning against Jason in a position that allows her to hold his arm should he decide to throw Chad out. Tim takes the arm of the couch closer to Chad, ready to pick him up and throw him away himself if he says something stupid.

“We keep it here for safety,” Jason says simply.

“Okay. Oof.” Chad reaches for Jason’s shoulder. “Look, I get it. Gotham is dangerous. But having a gun at home is more of a hazard than anything else, Jace. Can I call you Jace?”

“No.”

“Look, I’m an only son, but if I had a little brother like Tim, I’d want to show him a good example, you know? And guns are not the solution. Do you genuinely think you could shoot someone? I don’t think so. I served the army and there we learn that shooting a person is harder than you can imagine."

Tim can see Steph discreetly pinching Jason’s thigh to keep him in check. Jason looks like he’s asking himself if he’s in the Twilight zone.

There is a beat of silence and Jason opens his mouth. Tim braces himself. Before disaster hits, Steph blurts:

“Actually, that’s why Jason’s here.”

Fortunately, Chad doesn’t notice Jason’s and Tim’s perplexed faces because he’s focused on Steph again.

“Of course Bruce hates guns with his parents and all that,” she frowns sympathetically. “But… Chad, Jason died. Of course he’s getting therapy, but he still needs something to feel safe at least at home. Isn’t that right, Jay?”

She gently rubs his arm. Jason knows Steph enough to recognize the play along or you’re dead in her falsely upset expression.

“Uh… Right. That. I moved in with Tim because, uh, I know Bruce is weird with guns." Another pinch to his thigh. Clearly in a begrudging voice, he adds: "And I super agree with him. I mean, what if Damian found it?”

“God, no,” Tim deadpans. “I don’t want to even imagine Damian with a gun.”

“But Tim and he knows he's not to mess with it,” Jason adds.

“Bruce told me you’re here you and him are a bit at odds, but he didn’t tell me you fought over you having a gun.”

“Bruce doesn’t know and you can’t tell him,” Tim cuts in. Batman is definitely going to forget his no-killing rule if he finds out they let cousin Chad see Red Hood’s gun. “Please, Chad. I promise you we’re careful. We’re just trying to make the best out of a difficult situation.”

Tim hopes the mention that this is a touchy subject will deter Chad. He forgets to take in consideration that Chad thinks they’re his family despite him knowing literally nothing about them. He is under the very wrong impression that he's allowed to talk to them about personal shit. Which is great. This is just great.

“If it makes you feel better, this is temporary,” Jason says. “I talked to my, uh, my therapist about it and he cleared me to have the gun. When I start, you know, getting over the death trauma, I’ll get rid of it.”

“Right,” Steph nods eagerly. “We’re planning on throwing a party when we reach that point and everything.”

The three of them wait with baited breath as Chad considers their excuses, his expression somber. Then Chad opens his arms and pulls Tim and Jason into a triple hug.

“I get it,” he says in a hoarse voice he probably finds cool. “You do what you have to do to cope, man. Bruce told me you’re brave and I can see that’s true. And you, ” he squeezes Tim, “I heard from Dickie that you’re a little prodigy, but I’m so proud of you for being there for your brother!”

God, he has so many feelings. Tim promises himself he’ll never complain about Dick being clingy again. Dick has a Batman level of emotional constipation if compared to this guy.

“Right,” Jason pulls himself free from the hug. “I’m gonna put this away, alright?”

He gathers his cleaning supplies and the spare parts spread across the coffee table and takes it to his room. His expression says he's still trying to figure out what that was.

“But, Timbo…”

“Just Tim is fine.”

“I thought you didn’t know Jason before his death? Bruce adopted you kind of recently, didn’t he?”

“Uhhh… I don’t know what to tell you. Jason and I hit it off and became friends fast,” Tim says. “I mean, at first he hated me enough to want to slit my throat…”

“Wow, alright,” Jason interrupts as he returns, a pout on his lips. “I see we’re very comfortable joking about my early… grumpiness. It’s not something I feel guilt or still have nightmares about at all”

Tim almost snorts at that. “Like I was saying, we got better.”

Chad nods thoughtfully and leans back to be more comfortable, nothing about his body language suggesting he might be getting ready to leave.

“So!” Steph claps her hands together. “Thank you for understanding, Chad. Now maybe let's talk about something lighter, shall we?”

And that’s what they do, with some sttrugle. At first, Chad seems too upset to talk about anything and Steph has to use all of her charm to get him to forget about the fantastic start of his visit. Jason helps by making sarcastic remarks that almost sound genuine and Tim… Tim can’t do much.

He texts Cass and she agrees to take his patrol duty for the night. Tim considered making up an emergency at WE and going out anyway, but in the end he decided that was unfair to the others.

He also sends a message chewing on Damian for sending Chad his way without a warning. No one ever visits Tim’s apartment other than his family and his hero friends, so they could have been in full uniform in the middle of the living room. Damian responds with a dismissive text filled with words that Tim doesn’t know. Tim threatens to break all of his crayons and puts his phone away

By this point, Chad is a bit more like himself again and Tim almost wishes he stayed distressed, because the rest of the night is painfully weird. To avoid more awkward conversation, Jason puts on a random horror movie for them. Chad comments on how impressive it is that none of them seems to mind the gore. He squeals and groans and gives Steph a horrified look when she simply keeps eating her pepperoni pizza as though nothing of note is happening on the screen.

The thing is that the movie’s gore is decidedly inaccurate to the point that they barely recognize it for what it's supposed to be. Besides it’s nothing worse than some wounds they’d either suffered or seen as vigilantes.

Maybe it’s because Tim didn’t get the adrenaline he expected from patrol, but he ends up falling asleep on Jason’s shoulder during the climax of the second movie.

He wakes up alone on the couch with a blanket half-thrown over his legs. It's still the middle of the night and he has half a mind to go to his room before he hears muffled voices from the kitchen. Rubbing his eyes, he follows the sound without thinking much.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Steph greets him.

She and Jason apparently are building a castle of Uno cards in the middle of the kitchen table.

Tim joins them. “It’s 3am.”

“Witching hour,” Jason mumbles.

Steph gestures at the castle and offers Tim a card. He takes it.

“It was a dirty trick to fall asleep like that,” she tells him. “You missed the selfie party to celebrate the first time he visited Jace and Timbo.”

Tim groans. “He stayed long?”

“Too long.” Jason adds another pair of cards to the castle. “I think I have a headache and the Lazarus pit is supposed to make you immune to headaches.”

“That's what I was telling Jason before you got here, Tim. We’re socially capable, right?”

“Hmmm… Right, I guess.”

“How come we couldn’t get rid of him? Why were we so lost while we were, like, just hanging out with him? Is everyone outside of Gotham like that?”

Part of Tim is relieved that Steph hates Chad too. He thought he and Jason had finally caught Batman’s moodiness, but Steph is one of the most cheerful people he knows and her dry sense of humor and quick quips are a lot more bearable than cousin Chad’s peppy attitude.

The other part of him…

“I think it’s less about him not being from Gotham and more about him being a civilian,” Jason says.

The castle falls. None of them reacts.

“That can’t be right,” Steph says. “We have civilian friends and they’re not like that.”

“Do we?”

“Yeah! Jason-- Hm. Tim has Tam… Oh, forget it, she’s not talking to him again. I have Francisco and- I just remembered he’s the son of a gangster.” Steph pauses. “Huh. Do we seriously not know any civilians?”

They don’t. Not on a friendly level, at least.

Tim had considered that before, but he didn't want to think about it. It was weird he was so distant from a normal life that he felt unsettled by it. Not bad. Just weird. If he hadn’t found out Batman’s and Robin’s identities, would he grow up to be a Chad? Finishing high school, living in a frat house in college, and all that? Would he still be a Drake, neighbor to the Waynes?

He loves all of his siblings and Bruce and Alfred and he doesn’t want to consider a life without them.

However.

In a world without Batman. Bruce would still be a good man. He still wouldn’t hesitate in adopting an orphaned circus boy. He would probably also adopt the little shit that tried to steal his not-batmobile tires. If by a miracle he also adopted the boy next door that tragically lost his parents and a girl from a very broken family and a young boy whose parents couldn’t be there for him anymore. His gremlin of a biological son would have grown up beloved and incapable of harming anyone, let alone assassinating a person.

He remembers the plan to bring Jason back to the world of the living and how easy it had been for him and Bruce to put it together and make it seem believable, because in their world it was believable and it could have been the truth.

If Jason Wayne, a regular boy, son of a regular man, had been killed in a freak criminal act and brought back to life thanks to superhero shenanigans, all of them would have been there for him. Jason wouldn’t resent his father for not killing his murderers, because that wasn’t a possibility, and they’d find a way to get him to overcome the effects of the trauma. Bruce certainly wouldn’t spare effort or money to get his son back to full health.

If Stephanie’s father hadn’t been a super criminal, Tim’s first girlfriend wouldn’t hit him in the face with a brick on their first meeting. She would have been a normal girl with a normal life and she could even run into him at school. There is no doubt in his mind that he would have found and made Steph his friend no matter the universe, except… would he?

In that reality, he didn’t know what gore looked like. He would get too upset to function for half an hour at the mere sight of a gun. He’d visit relatives unannounced and the worst thing that could happen was to find them heading out as he arrives. He draws the line at the khakis and boat shoes, because he doesn’t think he’d wear those in any universe, but still.

That would not be Timothy Drake-Wayne. Tim had seen his own internal organs before. Tim’s not only unfazed by fire guns but also built some for his older brother. Tim is fully aware that visiting any of his siblings might mean walking into a ninja fight at worst and finding them pretending to drive the batmobile at best.

Steph and Jason don’t say anything for a while and Tim could easily blame it on the fact that it’s almost 4am and they have yet to sleep, but he knows it’s because they’re reaching the same conclusion he did: they’re not normal people. They always knew that, but knowing something and seeing evidence are two different things.

And again… it’s not bad. It’s not that Tim wouldn’t change anything about the past, it’s just that he doesn’t regret the life he lead up until this point.

It’s still weird. Too weird.

BABS

Babs: The red dynamic duo ship is back with a vengeance, huh?

Babs sent you a link.

Tim had never had a panic attack. Considering the life he leads, that’s a pretty surprising thing. However, that text from a woman he considers part of his family kicks his fight-or-flight instinct like nothing in the world could. He clicks on it. He reads the article.

He screams into a pillow for about ten minutes.

Jason and Steph find him lying face down on the floor trying to get his phone’s AI to buy him a ticket to Smallville. He's sure Conner will take him in. He’ll work at the farm. He’ll stop being Red Robin. He doesn’t care.

It’s an article from a teen magazine.

TIM WAYNE AND MYSTERY MAN?

Ah, the Wayne Family. Our favorite and most iconic family of Gotham. Timothy Drake-Wayne (18), or Tim, how he prefers to be called, has been under our radar for quite a while and not just because of his cute face. The young CEO of Wayne Enterprises and heir to Drake Industries is smart, rich and incredibly charming if the rumors are true. That being said, the question we’re all asking is: how is this boy still single?

Little to nothing is known about Tim Wayne’s love life and we were all crazy to know if he is in the market for a girlfriend.

Well, ladies, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Tim Wayne might have a special someone. Nothing is confirmed yet, but Chad Wayne (26), Tim’s adoptive father’s cousin, shared a rather interesting picture on his snapchat.

[IMAGE]

Once we got over how freaking hot Chad is looking, we noticed something in the background. Right behind Chad, we can barely see someone that looks exactly like Tim Wayne fast asleep on the shoulder of a real heartthrob. Our suspicions were confirmed by Chad’s caption that said “visiting the little cousins”!

It’s a well-known fact that Tim Wayne is openly bisexual, so could this be his boyfriend? Or are they just dudes being bros, unbothered by toxic masculinity? Only time will tell.

THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert sent a screenshot.

spoiler alert: lmao

WonderWing: … ok first I thought it was funny but now I’m concerned

WonderWing: do I need to talk to them?

WonderWing: do I need to talk our dad???

In the hood: WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO US?

In the hood: WHY IS ANYONE SEEN NEAR THIS DAMN KID AUTOMATICALLY HIS SIGNIFICANT OTHER??

send me a Signal: scratch that what is this openly bisexual business?

send me a Signal: I mean we know hes bi but hes not that vocal bout it?

spoiler alert: lmao tell em dick

WonderWing: lololol when he was like 12 there were rumors that Jack Drake’s son was gay right?

WonderWing: high society trashy gossip

WonderWing: around the same time his mom thought it was a good idea to let him be interviewed for this random magazine

WonderWing: they mentioned the rumors prolly because they wanted him to like say something motivational about bullying or wtv

send me a Signal: i think i know where this is going

send me a Signal: what did he say?

spoiler alert: i like my men how i like my women

send me a Signal: of course he did

spoiler alert: yeah and he wasnt out to his parnts yet so that part is less fun

send me a Signal: oof

In the hood: are you kidding me? Tim came out to the whole world because he couldn’t stop himself from making a dumb bi joke? Why can’t he stay in the closet like the rest of us?

Boss A$$ Bat: Bi rights

WonderWing: steph did you change cass nickname again

spoiler alert: ye

Boss A$$ Bat: I like it (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

send me a Signal: wait tims too quiet where is he

in the Hood: Steph took away his phone because he kept trying to book a flight to Smallville to become a farmer.

send me a Signal: of course. why wouldnt he.

Chad apologizes profusely for not noticing Tim and Jason were on that shot, but thankfully he does it over the phone so Tim can hang up halfway through his heartfelt apology.

The kids that still live in the manor aren't so lucky.

Tim gets a stream of facetimes from Duke, Cass and even Damian. Apparently Chad won't stop asking Cass to speak up, because she can, why bother with this weird sign stuff? (Cass stops Duke from hitting him.) He insists on asking Damian to play football with him until Damian knocked him out with a ball to the face. Bruce forced Damian to pretend he dislocated his shoulder on the stunt to prevent further invitations. Even though Duke is, by all means, perfect, Chad keeps stalking him and asking about his opinions on his siblings and if he thinks Bruce is doing the best job on raising them. The answers never satisfy him and he keeps asking as though he thinks the boy will change his mind if caught by surprise. Duke starts using his powers to jump out of the window whenever Chad is about to walk into the room until he lands on Alfred's roses. The fact that the butler isn't mad, just disappointed causes Duke to stop his daring escapes.

Bruce, despite his cool facade, isn't much better. He now has to keep his public persona at home too and, when it isn't driving him insane, he is being annoyed by his children exchanging weird looks and holding back giggles while he plays the himbo part.

Long story short, Chad is making a few days feel like torturing years.

The breaking point is the day Tim walks into his living room only to find Steph and Damian sitting on the couch facing each other while she dutifully paints his nails black.

“What is happening?” Tim asks. “Did I fall into a parallel Earth?”

“Tt, do not concern yourself with us, Drake. I’m here for Brown, not for you.”

Steph smirks at him.

“What the- Okay, first of all this apartment is mine and Jason’s. Steph doesn’t live here. Sometimes. Second… Since when do you get along with Steph?”

“I tolerate her.”

“What the hell? That’s like I love you in Gremlin language! Since when did you get Damian?”

Her smirk widens and Tim more or less expects her to do a little victory dance. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. I’m just irresistible.”

“Hm.” Tim turns to Damian. “Chad drove you out of the house and Bruce didn’t let you go to Dick's place in Bludhaven, right?”

“Father says I cannot miss school.”

“Great. If you’re going to become our second unofficial roommate, please stay away from Jason’s pots. He says he has a system and he's a nightmare when we mess with them.”

“I would never spend more time than necessary in your disgusting nest.”

“You’re literally on my couch! Letting my best friend paint your nails! You freaking pest!”

And Damian isn’t the only one.

Cass used to come over regularly, but the frequency of her visits increases dramatically now that Chad is staying at the manor. She isn’t bad to be around, though, as she mostly keeps training in the basement or napping on the couch that Steph is more than happy to share with her. When Tim asks why she doesn’t simply stay in the Batcave, Cass tells him Bruce is keeping their time at the cave to a minimum because Chad noticed sometimes they vanish even if all cars were in the garage.

Chad is also painfully public. He’s constantly tweeting and updating his Instagram and making sure everyone and their mother knows what he’s doing, who’s with him and where they are. That makes it difficult to kick him out without drawing attention. Gotham's elite is a nest of gossip and intrigue and people ought to ask uncomfortable questions if a rich guy sends a rich relative away for seemingly no reason. Bruce might be the most private person in the world, but Brucie Wayne is supposed to be a fun-loving man.

Cass convinces Tim not to make much fun of Bruce, because apparently, after Chad posted a picture of him and Bruce trying to bake and Brucie is wearing an apron that says “Kiss the Bat!”, Superman himself called him only to laugh for ten minutes. Tim Supposes that’s punishment enough.

When Duke is the one seeking shelter, it isn’t as fun. As much as Tim likes the guy, he’s a chronic worrier in a completely different way of Tim. He wants to make sure they're all living healthy lives and eating properly and, for some reason, whether Steph and Jason are bullying Tim. He question things such as the fact that Steph is ruining her back on the couch, Tim’s habit of leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight and the lack of the right brands of food, whatever that means. Tim gets tired of it pretty fast, but he also finds that being unnecessarilly dark is a efficient way to get Duke to shut up.

“So Steph basically moved in, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you guys share the rent or…?”

“I own the building, Duke.”

“Right. So she doesn’t pay any bills.”

“She kills bugs for us sometimes. She buys candy, too.”

"Does Jason pay bills?"

"He does. We split it evenly between the two of us."

"Huh. Where does he get any money?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

"Is Bruce okay with that?"

"If Bruce wanted to have a say in my life he shouldn't have died and forced me to get emancipated."

"... Tim, I love you so much, man, but sometimes it's hard to be your brother."

"I know, Duke. I love you too, Duke."

One night, he comes back from patrol and he finds all of his siblings literally camping in the living room. Someone even built a pillow fort by tying a preposterous amount of blankets to the porch door and the TV stand. Too tired to care, Tim turns to his room.

“Good night, Jay. Good night, Steph. Good night, parasites that do not live here.”

“You take back those words on this instant, Drake,” Damian hisses, but fortunately someone (Steph) tucked him too tightly into his sleeping bag, so there’s nothing he can do but wiggle around like an angry worm.

“Why are we parasites?” Duke asks from his air mattress. “I’ve done the dishes. That’s more than what Steph does.”

“Good night, Tim,” Cass says from… somewhere. They know she found a place to sleep. They don’t know where it is.

DAD

Tim: brus pls get rid of him

Dad: I can’t, Tim, it’d be suspicious to kick out a relative for no reason.

Tim: every1 is living at my place bc of him

Tim: even damian

Tim: do u kno how insuferable a man has to be that damian would rather spend time with jason and i

Dad: If everyone being at your place is bothering you so much, why don’t you invite Chad?

Tim: … no. ur not pushing him to me.

Dad: Chad and you are close in age, aren’t you? You could get along if you tried.

Tim: i 19! he 26!

Dad: Jason is 22 and he’s your best friend.

Tim: conner is my best friend

Tim: jason is a partner in crime at best

Dad: If you’re able to think of something to shorten Chad’s visit, I’m all ears. I admit it’s inconvenient to have him here. Otherwise, I think spending time with your siblings will do you some good.

Tim: i hate you

Dad: Alright, Tim.

Tim: … ok that was a lie and im sorry i love u bruss

Dad: I love you too, Tim.

One day, Tim goes to the kitchen for a mug of coffee and finds Barbara comfortably working on her laptop.

“...you don’t even live at the manor.”

“Hm? Oh, I’m not avoiding cousin Chad, Steph just invited me over for waffles.”

Tim just takes his coffee and leaves without saying anything else.

And then shit finally hits the fan.

Because Tim isn’t an idiot like Bruce, he didn’t make his public persona something that would be painful for him to play. As far as Gotham’s society knows, Tim Drake-Wayne is a calm and collected young man, work-driven and not too ill-mannered for a rich boy, which isn’t as different from the real Tim. Real Tim is an overworked ball of anxiety that appears to be a calm and collected young man, so no one is surprised when he doesn’t acknowledge the rumors about him and the mysterious man.

At least not until a son of a bitch with too much free time decides to ruin his brother’s life on twitter.

@earthnotflatffs101 yo don’t this dude with tim drake low key look like jason todd?

And the motherfucker even dared to repost Chad’s selfie and an old picture of a 13 year-old Jason walking alongside Bruce.

Of course the tweet goes viral.

Everyone starts talking about the eerie resemblance between Tim’s buddy and his deceased brother that he supposedly never met. Some find it tasteless that everyone is making a conspiracy theory out of an allegedly dead child, but they are quickly overpowered by the wave of old gossip being revisited. It takes one Sunday afternoon for everyone to start pointing out how weird it is that Tim Drake left the Wayne manor seemingly out of the blue and started living by himself at such a young age and how my sense it’d make for him to share a place with a brother. They notice Chad captioned the picture as "visiting the cousins" plural even if it's public knowledge that Tim Drake- Wayne lives alone. People start demanding to know who is the mystery man lending his shoulder to Tim, tagging the few Waynes with known social media in their posts and even WE corporate account.

It’s the very definition of a shit show, in Tim’s humble opinion.

Red Robin and Batgirl skip their Sunday patrol to brainstorm ideas of damage control. Damian is pacing around the kitchen as the two of them desperately try to apply an algorithm Oracle made to make sure less people will see posts about Jason Todd. There’s not a lot they can do about the fact that #IsJasonToddAlive? is trending. They’re so distressed that Damian forgets to be unpleasant.

“I see no other option,” Damian says at some point. “We should kill that man before he ruins our family any further.”

“How would killing him solve anything?” Tim groans.

“It would make me feel better.”

“No.”

“His death would cause people to forget about Todd.”

“... Go on.”

“Tim, you’re not going to let Dami kill Chad.”

“Why not!”

“Because with our track record he’s going to come back with radioactive powers or some shit.”

“That would be good! He’d finally fit in with the family! As it is now, we’re becoming the freaking Kardashians with a hint conspiracy theory, Steph!”

That’s not the biggest problem, though.

The problem is that Jason doesn’t come home on that night.

Tim and Steph wait for hours after Damian finally calms down in his sleeping bag, but the sun rises and Jason’s room remains empty.

He isn’t freaking out, by any means. Jason is an adult man and he can handle himself. He used to go missing by months at a time before moving in with Tim. He must be busy doing Red Hood stuff. He could let them know he’s okay, just for shits and giggles, but it’s alright. He doesn’t owe them anything.

On the third day after #isJasonToddAlive went viral, Tim and Steph go on patrol even if it’s not their turn. It’s a spur of the moment thing, because they’re home and bored. They agree to split up and just ride around town aimlessly, see what happens and meet at the end of the night to grab waffles at that 24 hour diner Steph likes so much.  One that Jason first took her to after one particular bad night in which she failed to stop a mugger from shooting their victim.

He is just riding his bike, not paying attention to where the wheels take him. It’s just a coincidence that he ends up in Red Hood’s old territory. He hears from some loiterers that Batgirl had been seen roaming around just south from where he is. He keeps his patrol focused on the north side.

A beeping sound informs him that someone is trying to contact him. He accepts it almost right away.

“ Jason ?”

“Nope, it’s me, Timmy,” Dick’s voice answers.

He sighs. And cringes when he realizes he broke the no-real-names-when-in-uniform rule. He’s lucky it isn’t Batman calling him. “Sorry, Nightwing, I thought… Never mind. You need something?”

“No, it’s just that I just got here at the manor. I thought I’d let you know.”

“Oh. Is everything okay? I didn’t even know you were coming back.”

“Well, with this whole Jason is alive thing blowing up I thought I’d come home, help in any way I can. Reporters are driving B insane.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. Also… Do you know Jason’s here?”

There is a beat. Tim presses the breaks with too much force and it’s a miracle that his bike doesn’t simply throw him away with how fast he stops.

“ What? ”

Dick chuckles over the comm. “I figured he didn’t tell you. Do what you want with this information. I’m gonna help Alfred now.”

Tim doesn’t bother saying goodbye, but he’s sure Dick will forgive him. He’s already pressing the buttons on his wrist pad to contact someone else. “Batgirl? Meet me at the cave. Now.”

It takes a lot of effort to stop Steph from storming into the manor through the main entrance in full Batgirl gear. And it’s a good thing Tim managed it, because there is a literal swarm of reporters in front of the gates and Tim wonders if anything happened in the short two hours he was out patrolling.

Once they’re in the cave, they’re careful enough to change into civies. Unlike Tim, Steph doesn’t have clothes stashed there so she simply steals a sweater from Damian’s locker while Tim checks the news.

“Someone saw the mystery man that looks like Jason Todd getting into Bruce Wayne’s car two days ago, ” he tells her when she comes out of the changing room. “How did we miss that?”

“I don’t know, you’re the tech dude,” she groans. “Maybe we hid so much crap the computer started hiding it from us too.”

It’s an explanation as good as any other and the truth is unimportant now. They climb out of the cave with unusual care, checking twice to make sure no one is around to see them emerge from the secret passage. As soon as the cave entrance is hidden, they hear altered voices.

Steph reaches for Tim’s hand when they walk towards the commotion and intertwines their fingers. One could think the gesture was a request for comfort. Tim had been friends with her long enough that it was a silent plea to hold her back if she needs to fight the urge to dropkick someone.

“... can’t simply hide him forever, Brucie!” They hear Chad saying.

Then, in a deep voice that isn’t quite Bruce or quite Batman, but that is still firm and definitive:

“If you can’t agree with me, feel free to leave. But stay aware that if you do anything to expose my son to unnecessary attention, I will not take it lightly.”

They walk into the room to find a Chad that looks somewhere between mildly horrified and extremely angry. Bruce is standing against the fireplace and he is definitely using the shadow he’s casting to appear bigger and more threatening, a trick he usually only uses when he’s wearing a cowl.

“What’s going on?” Tim asks.

“Tim!” Chad turns to him. “Get your father to see reason. I’ve been telling him that this is the perfect time to tell everyone Jason is alive. He wants to… to hide him like he’s a dirty secret.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “What does Jason think?”

“Jason doesn’t know what’s best, Tim, he’s not okay! He has a gun in your house, for crying out loud!”

For the sake of the intensity of the argument, Tim pretends not to notice the batglare he’s getting from his father and focuses on giving Chad a batglare of his own:

“So? You have a problem with my brother?”

Steph is squeezing his hand enough to hurt. He isn’t sure who’s holding who back now.

Chad takes a step back. “You people are insane. Mom was right. Trying to help you guys is useless.”

“ That’s what you’ve been trying to do?” Steph blurts.

Chad shakes his head and storms out of the room… And just like that, Chad’s gone. Gone from their lives, hopefully forever, and if not... Tim knows last year Duke learned a lot about restraining orders.

“I was wondering when you two would come pick him up,” Bruce says. “I hoped it’d take a little longer, it’s nice having him home.”

“Where is he?”

“First… what is this about a gun?”

“First of all, it was Damian’s fault for giving him our address.” Steph shrugs. “Second of all, the gun is the least dangerous thing in Jason’s room and right now I’m more dangerous than any weapon you have, so where is he ?”

“Library.”

They bolt out of the room and straight upstairs. Tim is so caught in the relief of the biggest source of problem being gone that he gets careless. Jason always said Tim is too quick to forgive, even if he doesn’t forget, and he guesses that is true. When he enters the library and he finds himself facing a startled Jason, he’s not angry. Mildly annoyed, for sure. Relieved that his worst paranoiac fears rooted in PTSD are proven to be untrue. Concerned by the fact that Jason looks almost small, younger, maybe because he’s wearing one of Bruce’s shirts or because his expression is so off guard.

But, most importantly, Tim isn’t holding Steph’s hand anymore.

“Jason Todd, you mOTHERFUCKER!”

“No, don’t- ”

But it’s too late. She leaps and dropkicks him and Jason screams in pain and soon the two of them are literally rolling on the floor yelling insults at each other and knocking an entire table sideways. Tim sighs.

“Say uncle! Say uncle right now, you musky bitch!”

“ It’s musty, dumbass!!”

“You’re that, too!”

He sits down in one of the comfy reading chairs and waits for them to get it all out of their system. At some point, Steph is straddling Jason’s back pulling him backwards by the nostrils and he somehow is reaching back to tickle her sides and both of their gazes meet Tim’s unimpressed glower. They stop.

“You two done?”

“She started it!”

“ Bitch- ”

“Enough already,” Tim groans. He waits until both look appropriately ashamed and get off of each other. “Steph is right, though, what the fuck, Jason?”

Jason cringes, but still tries to play it cool, as though nothing unusual happened. “The news had my face, I decided to lay low.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Steph snaps. “It took us three whole days to find you without actively looking. Bruce found you even before.”

“Also lay low hiding from what? Us?”

Grumbling something impossible to understand, he stands and crosses his arms in a clear attempt to look tough. In the absence of his leather jacket and the presence of all of Tim’s annoyance he only looks stupid.

“Look, I freaked out, alright? Me being found out was my fault.”

“How the heck is Chad’s stupid selfie your fault?”

“Because I knew it was a bad idea, okay?” Jason snaps. “I shouldn’t have sat there and made dumb excuses, I should have told him to fuck off the moment he saw my gun. I noticed him taking the stupid pictures, but I didn’t even care that I could be in one of them, I thought it wasn’t worth waking Tim up. All these months playing house and messing around with you guys made me reckless and soft. ”

Steph retreats a step as if he had slapped her.

“Okay, Jason, I’m willing to put up with a lot of angsty bullshit from you, but… Is that really what you think of us? That we’re, we’re what, bringing you down?”

“That’s not what I said!” He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“No,” Tim interrupts. “He's right.” When Steph makes to argue, he raises a hand asking her to listen. “You did grow reckless. That’s what you’re supposed to do, Jason. You’re supposed to relax and have down time and mess around with us. And if shit happens… We have each others' backs. You’d known that if you had come home, because you’d know Steph and I spent the past three days trying to cover for your stupid butt, since we knew you’d want that.”

Jason doesn’t say anything for a minute. When Steph doesn’t either, Tim continues:

“You don’t have to just survive anymore, you know? I thought you knew that when you agreed to live with us. You’re family.”

“You sound like Dick.”

“I mean, Dick was the first person that treated me like family. Maybe that’s why I was so... Hm. Never mind.”

“You’re still upset he fired you, huh?”

“No. I mean, I have been. But I know now it wasn’t personal. He was doing the best he could, even if he didn’t really understand what I needed back then. I know Dick always loved me.”

“Hm. Did you talk to him so he could apologize or did you work all that on your own and forgave him by yourself?”

“Nice try, but right now we’re talking about your issues, not mine.”

Because Steph had been awful quiet for a while - which is something highly unusual - they turn to her in question. They find her wearing her furious expression, the one that puts fear for their lives in criminals hearts, but the effect is ruined by the fact that her big eyes are pooled with tears.

“Oh shit. That’s new. I didn’t know she did that. I thought she destroyed her tear ducts when she was a kid or something. What do I do?”

She simply shakes her head. “I get you, Jay,” she says, her voice a bit wobbly. “Admitting you have something means knowing you can lose it. But is the fear of losing it worth throwing it away altogether?”

Jason pulls her into a hug. She sniffles and rubs her face on his chest, purposefully wiping her runny nose there before she hugs him back.

“I hate you so much, Jason.”

“I hate you too, Steph,” he says softly. “And, from the bottom of my heart, my bad.”

She sniffles again. “Tim, get your gay ass over here. This is a triple hug situation.”

Tim snorts and mumbles something about the fact that Dick can never find out about this or he’ll never forgive them for not including him.

He joins the triple hug nonetheless.

The trio ends up sitting on the floor, their backs resting against the table Steph and Jason knocked over. They learn that Jason had escaped to one of his old hideouts when he heard the news. He was both annoyed and creeped out to find Bruce already there waiting for him and the fucker had the gall to bring Alfred along to make sure Jason wouldn’t say no.

In exchange, they tell him Damian was offering to kill Chad on Jason’s behalf, which makes him bit moved.

“Bruce had already said everything you said, by the way,” he tells Tim. “It’s scary how you’re more like him than his own biological son.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “We said the same thing because we’re right.”

“It almost sounds like you do want me to go out and tell everyone I’m alive.”

“I mean, yeah, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Wait, what?” Steph frowns. “You want people to know Jason’s alive? Then why did you make me spend hours sitting in front of a computer hunting tweets about this glorified zombie?”

“Because if Jason’s secret goes out, it’s for us, not for him,” Tim says. “It’s a pain to be part of a public family. We’d get to go out in public without worrying about being seen and to, I don’t know, post stupid pictures online, mock old people together in Bruce’s galas, but it also means that he would have to avoid reporters and have a double life like the rest of us do.”

After Tim finishes speaking, Steph nods as if that makes sense. Jason finds himself frowning at his feet.

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m gonna come out as a living person. I’ll maybe even pepper in the fact I’m also queer, just to spice things up.”

“Jay, you don’t have to…”

“No, I don’t. When it was Chad’s bullshit about me having to live my best life, I wasn’t going to, but if it’s for you guys, I can do it. Steph’s right. I can’t live a half live." His smile twists into something wicked. "And I know exactly how to do it.”

Congratulations, @JasonToddWayne! Your twitter account has been successfully created.

The first and only post is a picture of a man in a leather jacket and sunglasses in the middle of a fancy lobby. Hanging upside down from the chandelier above him is no one other than Dick Grayson-Wayne holding a flashlight right behind the man’s head to simulate a bright aura. Around him, some kneeling, some standing, but all holding out their arms towards him are all of the Wayne kids, Tim, Cassandra, Duke and even Damian. If you look closely, you can see a smiling butler on the background and, further, a shadow that looks very much like Bruce Wayne facepalming.

The caption of the picture simply says: I lived, bitch.

@dgraysonman retweeted that.

@stephssss retweeted that.

@thomascommaduke retweeted that

@babsgeez retweeted that

@BruceWayne retweeted that

The thing about being part of a scandal you purposefully caused is that you get to kick back and watch the world burn around you while you wear an evil little grin on your face whenever people ask what the hell you were thinking. Tim used to get annoyed by interview requests that had nothing to do with WE and everything to do with his personal life, but for once he enjoys watching the messages piling up and eventually saying no to all of them.

Bruce makes a brief and vague declaration about his son being back from the dead, no big deal, and he expects everyone can respect his family's privacy in this delicate moment. He gives the press just enough and refuses to elaborate. Only liars give too many details and they’re not lying. Not entirely, at least.

Of course, Jason doesn’t help by posting the weirdest freaking memes to his twitter account and, whenever someone tries to get answers from his, his retorts vary widely from “I returned from the grave to wash Damian’s mouth with soap” to “I was captured by a group of murderous ninja that dipped my corpse in a cursed pool that brought me back to life”. Unfortunately, he gets verified and no man should hold so much power.

They return to their lives, Tim in his room, Jason in his and Steph on her couch. Sometimes they even meet in the kitchen to play Uno and prank call Dick - it never works, because Dick always says he’s flattered that they wanted to hear his voice, but it’s the thought behind it that counts.

They go on patrol sometimes. By this time, the public seems to have caught on that Batgirl and Red Robin are basically a duo. Sometimes the Red Hood is included in the mix. For once, Tim doesn’t mind that they know as much.

He thinks they’re heading towards more peaceful days.

DUCK DUCK BRUISE

Duck Robin: hey stephanie what the hell

Duck Hood: Do I even want to know

Bruise: we need our own groupchat

Duck Hood: Why is it named that?

Bruise: bc we red red and purple

Bruise: u never played duck duck bruise?

Duck Robin: its duck duck goose steph

Bruise: u and i led v different childhoods

Duck Hood left the chat

Bruise added Jason Todd to the chat

Bruise changed Jason Todd’s name to Duck Hood

Bruise: u cant escape us jay

Drake Robin: one of us! one of us! one of us!

Duck Hood: Next time either of you complain about not getting laid I’ll show you a screenshot of this conversation.

Jason, Tim and Steph are walking home. It’s still day and, even if the sun isn’t quite shining because this is still Gotham, it’s nice and warm outside. The reason they went to get groceries together is because Jason had been horrified to find out that neither Tim nor Steph knew how to pick fruit and they spent a good part of their afternoon arguing over which apple was the ripest. Tim refused to get out of the shopping cart until their groceries were paid.

It had been fun.

Steph forced them to carry all the bags, arguing that she is but a frail young woman even if Tim is pretty sure she can bench press him. The real reason is because she wants to play Pokemon Go on the walk home and that’s valid, so they carry the bags. She is one of the few people of Gotham that isn’t afraid of getting mugged, so she might as well use that privilege.

A text stops her from catching a bulbasaur right before it stops her entirely.

“Steph?” Tim calls, his brow furrowing in worry.

“It’s happening again,” she whispers.

The brothers approach her to look at her phone. They’re already familiar with this at this point, so none of them is surprised to see a headline and a picture.

MYSTERIOUS BOMBSHELL SEEN LEAVING JASON WAYNE’S APARTMENT

Tim recognizes the outfits they wore two days ago on the day he snapped and forced them to take out the trash together, which ended a week long battle of wills. It’s also the day the biggest bag ripped open and an obscene amount of RedBull cans rolled down the curb. The picture is them watching the disaster. Steph is a pretty girl, but that picture is not doing her any favors. Her face is all scrunched up, as Gothamites tend to be on the rare occasions they see the sun, part of the ripped trash bag still in her hand. Jason has his hands on his hips looking like every bit of the mother hen he is and he is wearing crocs over socks (Tim has sworn to kill Roy Harper for corrupting his brother like that, making him think that’s an okay thing to do and say disgusting things like just try it, you annoying hipster, it’s comfy. )

“You know what? They called me a bombshell, I’m not even mad.”

“How come it’s Jason’s apartment? I’m literally the only person in this household with a dayjob!”

“First of all I'm an university student. Second, you only do actual work because you’re a sucker, you’re all trust fund babies. And that includes you, mr. Crime Lord.”

“Thank you, miss Eats All my Fucking Food.”

They resume their walk without reading the rest of the article. Tim thinks to himself that this is not too bad. Then it gets worse.

“Hey. Are those reporters?” Steph asks. “In front of our house?”

It only takes a glance to find out that she’s right. There is a small group of people hanging out near their apartment complex even though there’s no apparent reason to be there. Any decent Gothamite knows you don’t loiter for no reason, because you never know when the freaking Killer Croc is going to randomly pop out of the sewer or some crap. Those people are there with a purpose and that purpose involves a lot of them holding cameras.

“Yeah, I’m out,” Tim says.

“What?”

“This is the first time I’m not involved in the news. I’m going to enjoy my immunity. You two are on your own for this one.”

He turns his back to them. Enough is enough. Sometimes you just have to draw a line in the sand, let the universe know what you’re willing to put up with on that day. Tim is not willing to deal with this. He gestures at Steph and Jason not to follow him as he stalks into the adjacent empty alley. He takes a long, deep breath and shouts at the top of his lungs:

“COOONNEEEEEEEEEEER!”

Tim had never been better, or at least that’s what he tells himself 50 times in a row. He chose to be in denial and deny he will. He sits on the floor of his best friend’s room and takes a deep calming breath of the fresh air coming through the window. It doesn’t smell like gritty cities or nosey reporters at all.

Conner finally comes back and hands him a bowl of popcorn before taking a seat by his side. He turns on the old television in his room. Tim smiles.

“Hey, your siblings are on the news,” Conner says.

Tim glances at the phone Conner is holding. It’s a picture of Steph walking into their building carrying Jason in her arms as one would carry a toddler, one arm supporting his bottom and the other pointing threateningly at the camera. There is no doubt in Tim's mind that they’re mimicking the meme on purpose. He doesn’t bother reading the headline. He doesn’t want to know. He simply puts the phone aside and hugs Conner.

“I don’t want to go back to Gotham ever again. Let me live here, please.”

Conner laughs. “Sure, Ma’s been trying to get me to kidnap you for a while now.”

“Good. I’m going to learn farm work. I’ll bring honor to us all.”

“Sure," Conner pets his hair. "It’s been a whole day now. You already miss Jason and Stephanie, don’t you?”

“...yeah.”

“I’ll fly you back home tonight.”

“Thanks, Conner, you’re the best.”

Despite everything, there’s no place like home.

#batfam #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #red hood #red robin #batgirl #impulse control? idk her #i swear i was gonna wait to post it but lmao #i mean it's already written so #here take this

[goldkirk]

Latchkey, a Tim Drake fanfic

Chapter 7: with a thousand lies and a good disguise 

So! 

So. 

Tim may have not thought this whole living situation through as well as he should have. (Not that he had much of a choice in the matter, really—Bruce Wayne tended to get his way in the end in most situations. But still.) This whole thing? The living-with-Batman-and-Robin-under-their-roof thing? The Batman’s-paranoia-and-security-measures-are-extreme thing? A lot more complicated than Tim had anticipated.

Like, he knew Batman was paranoid and very, very good at his job. But Tim hadn’t realized , had no true hint of the scope, no way to possibly understand what that meant in practice, in real life, outside of the city at night. 

He sure has a good idea now. 

Trying to figure out Batman’s security measures is a goddamn nightmare . Tim knows he has no hope of predicting all of them, so he spends a lot of his free time just...poking around. Exploring. Innocently enough, always. It’s completely reasonable for a newcomer to get lost in an unfamiliar setting as large as Wayne Manor. 

He finds layer upon layer of security. Everywhere. Alarmed windows, hidden cameras, unhidden cameras, panic buttons galore. Jason, bless him, gives Tim a hushed heads-up that pretty much all areas of the roof have motion sensors, so if he’s planning to sneak out for a smoke or anything, he’s gotta make sure to deactivate the nearby ones for the duration if he doesn’t want an extremely panicked Bruce crashing through the roof access stairwell thinking someone’s trying to break in. 

Tim thanks him for the fair warning, and watches attentively as Jason demonstrates how to get around the security. In return, he shows Jason his camera and a few of his better wide angle shots of Gotham and Vernon State Park vistas, a carefully calculated risk. Tells Jason that he likes nature photography, and has been trying to take night sky photos from the roof of his house for a while now, so thanks, Jason, he’s probably going to end up using the info soon, yeah, really appreciate it. Please don’t tell anyone, though, please, it’s embarrassing, he doesn’t like people knowing about his photos.

“It’s not embarrassing!” Jason says, hotly, and Tim is a little awed at how quickly Jason is offended on his behalf. “Photography is a completely respectable hobby to have, and from what I can see so far you’re great at it. Anyone who’s told you otherwise is a half-cooked brussels sprout.” 

Tim snorts. 

“I just…” He pauses. 

Does he play up the pity angle? He knows Jason is weak for it. Tim hates himself more than a little for how clearly he always reads people and knows how to manipulate them. He reads moods and watches micro expressions, engages in a delicate tango of interactions with the grace of a bomb defuser, and he always, always knows how to make people feel sympathy for him. He hates the manipulation, but it’s gotten him out of so many binds over the years he can’t bring himself to properly stop. But is now the right time?

He doesn’t want to manipulate Jason. Never. Jason is all fire and warmth and an enormous good heart under the rough and tumble attitude he holds up against the world like a suit of armor. Tim doesn’t want to use that against him. But the risk of being found out by Batman is so high, and Tim can’t just stop his work for months on end—people depend on BatWatch. Value it. And besides, it’s just about the only good thing Tim’s accomplished so far in life, his one real success, even if it’s secret no one else knows. He just...he has to.

“I just don’t want any adults to know right now, okay. I don’t want a repeat of my parents getting annoyed about it,” Tim finally says, because that is, technically, true. “It’s important to me. I need to protect what little self-confidence I still have about it.” And that is a little bit too truthful, so Tim tries to laugh it off, downplay his slip. 

Jason’s not laughing.

Oh, fuck, Tim thinks desperately. Now you’ve done it. You made Jason get the “worried about you, but trying to hide it because I know attacking the issue head-on scares people off, but it’s not working properly because I’m physically incapable of hiding my worry, unlike my more skilled mentor Batman who has a Stone Face Mode to rival Mount Rushmore” expression, and boy oh boy Tim is in for it now. Jason’s got his face screwed up, trying so hard to let the issue go like Tim wants, but Tim knows he’s going to fail miserably in about three, two—

“Is that what happened with your parents?” Jason asks, question exploding out in a rush. 

Huh. Didn’t make it to zero. Tim might need to adjust his internal Robin countdown timer, then, unless this turns out to be an isolated incident. Need more data, Tim thinks, and absently puts a pin in that thought to come back to at a less delicate time. 

Tim clams up. He can almost feel the shuttering that Jason much be watching play out across his face right now.

“Tim,” Jason says, one hand out, conciliatory. Nonthreatening. Like Tim is a small animal about to spook. Tim isn’t sure if he feels offended by that or not. 

“Jason,” Tim replies evenly.

“I thought you said they liked the photo books. Thought they were neat.” 

Jason sounds upset now, and ugh , this is exactly why Tim didn’t and didn’t want to talk about it. The past is the past, he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, parents don’t want to be bothered with photography, lesson learned! Time to move on. It happened, it’s over, it doesn’t matter. 

But now Jason’s going to be sad about it, and probably tell Dick, and make Dick sad, and both of them will be sad together at Tim, and Tim is allergic to people trying to pity him for no real reason, and he needs to get out of here before it goes any further.

“Jason, it doesn’t matter. There are way more people in the world than my parents, I’m sure someone will have a use for those books. I already donated them to Goodwill. It’s fine.” Jason, contrary to what Tim had hoped, now looks stricken. 

“You—Tim!”

“I really have to go,” Tim blurts. “I’ve got...a thing. For history. Just remembered it’s due tomorrow. Thanks for showing me the roof, I appreciate it!” And he shoves through the rooftop access door before Jason can say another word. 

~

Nine days into BatWatch’s self-imposed “Sorry for vanishing, I had a personal emergency for a few days and now I’m going to be out of town for a bit ‘til everything has been sorted out” hiatus, Tim is finally ready to hit the streets. He’s scoped out Wayne Manor inside and out, he’s extracted what information he can from Dick and Jason, he’s tweaked his disguise, and he’s figured out exactly which university wifi he’s going to use to update the blog that night. Because he definitely isn’t about to try using Wayne Manor’s network, which he’s positive is heavily monitored by both Bruce and Babs. Batman probably has an alert set to ping him if a BatWatch login was ever flagged in his home network packets

Tim isn’t about to give the whole game up that easily. It would be plain shameful, after all the hide and seek they’ve been doing for the past couple years.

So Tim is ready. Or as ready as he’s ever going to be, anyway, short of explicitly asking someone hey, hi, yeah, how would one go about sneaking out of Wayne Manor completely undetected? Just asking for science. 

He bids Alfred goodnight, throws a banana at Jason to remind him to eat before bed (patrol), waves at Bruce through the study’s open doorway, and purportedly turns in for the evening. Tim stays curled up under blankets long enough to listen for the Manor to grow more or less silent, and then throws the covers off and drags his backpack from under the bed. He gives it one last check. 

Ten minutes later, Tim is on the roof, headed for the gutters at the edge. He’s got a rope already anchored to an AC unit, which Bruce thankfully had the foresight to have anchored solidly down into the rooftop with steel bolts. Tim rappels carefully over the roof edge, just like he practiced, until he can grasp one of the large limbs on a particularly good climbing tree and scramble down. He uses the ridiculous amount of hedges to sneak his way over to the Drake property line. From there, he takes his usual path to the city.

It’s go time.

~

Tim’s been out for a few hours, getting good shots of Batman and Robin and trying to collect dirt on a drug ring that sprung up in the Dockland over the past few weeks. Normally, he wouldn’t be trying to get many shots of one of those—Batman tends to find them sooner rather than later and take care of the problem without outside help. But this one has been cutting weed and Molly with some really bad stuff, according to word on the street, and people are landing themselves in the hospital. A few unlucky souls even end up in the morgue. 

Cocaine. Opiates. Sometimes various cleaning agents. The cut drugs were circulating among a younger crowd, mostly teenagers. No grown ups so far. Which means this ring is likely targeting the nearby school, and spreading out from there. 

Tim doesn’t like people who pick on kids. And neither does Batman. At all . 

He snaps a shot of two of the men tearing open a stuffed turtle. Pulling out a baggie. Running its contents through their fingers like sand. Tasting it, touching a white-coated finger to their tongue and laughing. Chucking the baggie back into a box like it’s not about to maybe ruin someone’s entire life the next day. He takes photos of the crates, zooms in on labels and numbers, hoping to capture something that will be helpful in identifying a pipeline. 

Tim’s just about finished for the night, ready to compile tonight’s post for BatWatch and then upload the evidence photos to the police dropbox, since Gordon will get the info to Batman within two days. They have a system between them, Gordon and Tim. Tim hacked Gordon’s email once upon a time and let him know he was BatWatch and he wanted to help. Gordon, to Tim’s delight, accepted. Few questions asked. (Working with Batman had probably desensitized the Commissioner’s wariness towards nameless vigilante types somewhat, by then.)

Tim sends evidence to GCPD on a regular basis, but he only flags certain data dumps with “It was a dark night tonight, but I managed to catch—” and then ends the sentence with whatever the description is of his photos. Gordon knows those are for the Dark Knight of Gotham, and sets the wheels of fate in motion. Or so Tim likes to imagine.

So that’s the plan—post, evidence, crash in bed. But as Tim is preparing to pack up for the night, sudden motion a few shipping container rows over catches his eye. It’s too far away for him to make out clearly, but with his highest zoom lens he should be able to get a better look. He digs in his bag, carefully pulling out the wrapped and padded lens, slots it into the front of his camera. 

And there’s Scarecrow. Bold as you please. Standing right next to a shipping container. Speaking calmly with one of the drug lords. 

~

Oh, hell no. Shit, fuck, and damn, this is bad. No, make that capital-b, trademark symbol Bad™. 

Tim ducks around a rooftop water tower’s leg to think for a minute. 

Problem number one: Scarecrow is supposed to be in Arkham. If he’s out, there’s a possibility of other inmates being on the loose as well. Clearly Arkham isn’t aware of the problem, yet, because there’s been no push alert on Tim’s phone, and no sirens set off in the city. Which means aside from the criminals down below, Tim is likely the only person in the whole city who knows that Scarecrow is out and about. Which means Tim has got to do something about it, right? 

Problem number two: Tim has stopped tracking Batman and Robin for the night. He has no idea if they’re even in Gotham proper anymore. For all Tim knows, they’re off getting ice cream or dealing with a domestic dispute on the other side of the river. He also doesn’t have a way of contacting them. 

Problem three, and most pressing: Scarecrow deals in fear toxin. It’s his whole thing. It’s his magnum opus, his crowning jewel. He feels no fear, except when encountering Batman. And he’s addicted to that fear, wants to instill it in everyone else in the world. Scarecrow has tried multiple times over the years to poison Gotham—tainted candy, gas mains, water mains, aerosol balloons, fear-gas-filled party crackers on New Year’s Eve, and even an entire blimp one unhappily memorable summer. Scarecrow partnering with a drug ring is the worst kind of news. And Tim knows better than most citizens how much can be accomplished overnight in Gotham; if they reach an agreement down there, hundreds of pounds of drugs could be ready for distribution to unsuspecting teenagers by morning, laced with potent fear toxin instead of just aspirin or whatever else they’d planned on using tonight. 

Tim has to do something. This can’t be allowed to happen. He has no way of contacting Batman, short of hollering at the top of his lungs, which would be just plain stupid. That’s a surefire way to get shot and hunted down if he’s ever heard one. He can call the police, but there’s no way they’ll arrive before Scarecrow would get enough warning to lickety-split and vanish to some hidey hole of a sewer or wherever he chooses to hide this time. 

Tim groans quietly. He really, really doesn’t want to do this. 

He swings himself down onto the nearest fire escape anyway. 

~

“Hi,” Tim says, a little breathlessly, into his earpiece, the only thing he kept on him when he stashed his backpack on an unused rooftop. “Um, I’m by the shipping docks, and I want to report a Scarecrow sighting as of about ten minutes ago.”

The keys he could hear clicking on the other end of the line go silent. 

“Are you sure?” the dispatcher sounds distinctly less lively than when they first answered the phone. 

“Yeah, pretty sure,” Tim replies. “Since I can see him talking with another criminal right now.” He throws himself into a leap and handsprings off a ledge onto the building’s lower roof, takes off running to vault a narrow alleyway and lands on the roof of the next building over. Ancient gravel pieces crackle under his sneakers, and he skids. 

“Just a moment,” the dispatcher says, faintly, and there’s a click on the line.

“Hello?” And Comisioner Gordon is on the call. 

Huh. That’s convenient, Tim thinks, then bites back a curse as he rolls his ankle while landing another jump. He may be a lot better than he used to be at freerunning (a none success with left broken wrist video on YouTube, courtesy of Ives, was the highlight of his earliest attempts), but he’s no Robin. 

“Comissioner,” Tim says, quiet and confident. He’s perched on the closest rooftop to Scarecrow now. The two men are still discussing the deal. He can see the drug lord waving his hands in sweeping gestures, while Scarecrow leans in slightly, seeming thoroughly engaged. “I’m reporting Scarecrow loose in Gotham.”

“Where,” Gordon says, and this is why Tim loves him. No questioning, no nonsense, no dilly-dallying, no fear in his voice for criminals to pick up on. Just trust. Just action. Tim would bet a Doritos Locos taco that Gordon is already yanking on his coat and heading out of the office door to alert the precinct. 

“Shipping docks, northernmost area,” Tim says. “He’s talking with a drug lord.”

“Shit.” Gordon is quiet, but Tim picks up on it anyway. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “The drug shipments are nearby, but I don’t know if your men will have time to tackle that and still catch Scarecrow. He’s in the process of making some kind of deal, and if it goes down the kids in the area high school are going to be landing in the hospital with a 100% success rate. I’d bet anything. They have the drugs hidden in stuffed turtles this time, for the record.”

“Who are you?” Gordon demands, and Tim can hear the chaos of a precinct swirling into motion, the sound of car doors slamming. A car starting. “Get out of there. It’s dangerous.”

Tim thinks hard. Gordon has no clue who he is, and Tim’s disguise is good enough that even if the police spot him, he could never be linked back to Timothy Drake by any facial recognition, human or software based. His voice could be a weak spot, maybe, but Tim is using a completely different accent right now than his normal. And Gordon trusts who he really is. 

“BatWatch,” he answers, finally.

“You kidding me?”

“No sir,” Tim hisses. “And I gotta go. Call Bats. Flick the signal. Scarecrow always wants him . He’ll stay for a showdown.”

“Get out of there!” Gordon really means it. Tim feels bad for the genuine distress he can hear in the Commissioner’s voice.

“Sorry,” he says. “Good luck.” He ends the call. 

~

Tim picks his way down the stone corner pieces of the decrepit apartment building as quietly as he can, afraid that even looking at the rusty fire escape for a second too long might cause it to start creaking. There are police sirens faintly in the distance now, and Tim kind of wants to cry, or take a sledgehammer to some old cabinets and go to town. The police never seem to realize that if they give advance warning that they know something’s up, the criminals are going to have time to prepare or get away instead of being caught by surprise. But habits die hard, he guesses, even in a place as crazy as Gotham.

Scarecrow is going to bolt if Tim doesn’t do something right now. And it’s stupid. It’s awful, terrible, absolutely batshit insane, Tim could get seen , Tim could get gassed, Tim could get shot . But he’s up and running across the last gap, scrambling quietly up the side of a shipping container stack. Just as the city’s warning sirens begin spinning to life, eerily echoing through the rows of containers, Tim throws with all his might, and a batarang embeds itself in the metal just inches away from Scarecrow’s shoulder. 

Scarecrow whips around, mask firmly in place, scanning the stacks for his enemy. 

“Batman,” he hisses, and Tim has got to be careful now, he has to do this right. 

The drug lord is armed. Tim is thirteen. Batman has training, and Tim can barely make four park bench vaults in a row. But he can do this. There are lives on the line. 

He just has to hold out until Batman arrives for real. He’s the distraction. 

Tim leaps onto another stack, wincing at the clang his landing makes. He hits the deck, waits for the gunfire to stop, jabs play on his phone’s voice memo app. 

“Scarecrow,” and that’s Batman’s growl coming out, echoing, hopefully strongly enough that Scarecrow won’t realize it’s not just from a speaker. There’s a thud on the side of his stack, and a laugh from Dr. Crane, and Tim books it.

Come on Batman, COME ON BATMAN, and Tim is in the worst game of cat-and-mouse he’s ever played in his life. The container stacks are endless, and he’s so tired. Scarecrow has started throwing gas bombs everywhere he runs. The air is clouding over, turning into a toxic fog. Tim wedges himself in a gap just long enough to yank out the standard Gotham gas mask he always packs for these nights, but it’s only rated for ten minutes in one of Crane’s concoctions. Tim’s on a timer now, and he’ll have to either accept a fear gassing or bail when it runs out. 

There’s panic among the rows of stacks now, as lackeys and low level criminals get hit by the toxin. Panicked firing starts up everywhere, and Tim hopes all the police are staying well clear, gearing up the tactical teams they’ve no doubt trucked in. 

Come on, Batman.

~

Tim’s got less than a minute left of safe air. He can’t see where he is anymore, and at this point he doesn’t care. He’s just picked a direction and he’s running . He’s down at the ground now, because speed and surprise are the only advantages he has at this point. And so far, there haven’t been any gunshots from up ahead. 

“Crane,” he hears, deep gravel in a human throat, and oh thank god. Finally.

There’s intense banging behind him now, and an enraged yell from Scarecrow. Batman grunts. Tim keeps running. 

Right off the edge of the harbor platform.

He only has time to let out one shout of surprise when the ground drops away suddenly, and thenhe’s hitting the icy water, gasping out what little precious air is still in his lungs. Tim struggles to the surface, breaks it with a deep gasp. He’s got maybe a minute, maybe two before he can’t keep himself up anymore. And Tim isn’t familiar with the harbor. 

He swims along the shore as best he can. 

Tim’s arms are turning to ice, and then to heavy warm lead, and then to nearly nothing at all. He’s a battery, being drained to zero from the outside in, layer by layer by layer, each part powering down to black like an old TV. And he’s just so tired. He’s beginning to slip, head dipping below the surface over and over now, like one of the drinking bird toys he remembers from elementary school. 

And then suddenly there’s an arm hooking around him, armpit to armpit, and he’s yanked upwards like a shot. 

“I’ve got you, it’s okay, I got you,” and it’s Jason. Robin. Tim is shivering too hard to speak. 

Robin lets go of the grapple line and hauls Tim onto flat ground, yanking a metallic space blanket out of a pouch from his belt. Tim always loved those as a kid—couldn’t believe how small they folded up, how well the foil really did trap and reflect heat energy. His parents thought they were stupid, and never let him buy one from the museum gift shop. 

Good thing Batman didn’t agree with them, he thinks, distantly, and Robin is yelling something, Batman, maybe , he thinks, and.

No. No no no no no no . Tim can’t—his disguise is good but it’s Batman , and he’s too tired , he’s so cold, he can’t think straight—he can’t lie properly to Batman like this—

Large arms are under him, and he’s being lifted like he weighs nothing, held tight against a strong chest for the second time in as many weeks. But this time there’s kevlar and body armor and a thick cape, not soft jersey knit, and he’s cold, not hot. 

But the words are the same, Tim realizes, blinking up in spotty street lighting at his hero, and when Batman says It’s going to be okay, I’ve got you, Tim can almost believe it.

[ Read on ao3 ]

#tim drake #batfam #dc #shutterbug series

[redroseworks]

safe dickroyweek day one midnight/secrets @dickroy-week

Roy hated when Ollie dragged him to Gotham. The place made him feel like he was in some sort Addams family nightmare. He especially hated the galas in Gotham. Especially the ones hosted by one Bruce Wayne; playboy billionaire. 

Roy side eyed Ollie as he talked to Bruce Wayne. 

"Long time no see Brucie." Ollie forced a smile. Roy didn't care for his drama with Wayne.

"Some might say it hasn't been long enough. I heard you adopted a son, is this him?" Bruce asked with a smile. 

"Yeah, I'm Roy. Ollie says you're a man wh-" Ollie clamped a hand over Roy's mouth.

"How about you go find Bruce's son, uh, Rick or something like that." Ollie said.

Bruce nodded. "Great idea. And his name is Dick. Dick Grayson. He's hanging by the food and drinks." 

Roy groaned and made his way towards the table that had fancy foods and other shit. He easily spotted a short guy about his age.

"Yo, you're Dick, right? Terrible name." Roy said.

"Thanks." Dick looked at him funnily. 

"I'm Roy. Ollie Queen's orphan." Roy held out his hand.

Dick shook it. "Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's ward."

"Ward? Wow that sure is a fancy fucking word. What is this? The nineteenth century?" Roy smirked.

"My main caretaker is a British butler that may or may not be over a hundred years old so I shall use some fucking fancy words." 

"I like you. You're not a rich asshole."

[[MORE]]

Him and Dick spent the rest of the night talking about the other party goingers.

"There's the Drakes, their son is freaky quiet and I never seen the parents even hold hands." Dick pointed out a small family.

"Wow that kid is tiny. What is he? Three?" 

"I think he's like eight." 

"That's a gremlin. That's a literally gremlin. I could throw him across a room."

Dick laughed. "Yeah. He looks like Tiny Tim." 

"Ha! Yeah okay… what about that red head with that blonde girl?" Roy pointed at a pair.

Dick shrugged. "Oh that's just Kate and Bette. They're Bruce's cousins. Kate is pretty nice plus she makes fun of Bruce a lot. Bette is annoying but she's okay. She tries to act like she can boss me around because she's Bruce's cousin even though she's younger than me." 

"Huh. Five bucks says Kate is a lesbian." 

"She is." 

"Can I get five bucks?" Roy asked. Dick rolled his eyes but laughed.

The next week Roy was in Star City.

Roy walked out into the kitchen. A small figure was on the counter. He flicked on the lights while his heart raced.

But it was only Robin, eating ice cream in the dark. His mask hid his eyes but his face obviously was damp from crying. Robin stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Hey Rob, you alright?" Roy asked.

Robin shrugged. "Had a nightmare. A really bad one. Couldn't sleep after that so I'm eating cotton candy ice cream that Wally brought." 

Roy nodded. Robin had fallen asleep on the couch while they were having movie night at Roy's home. Well, Ollie's home. Ollie and Roy's home. The Arrow House. Roy would have to work on that later.

"Let me grab a spoon and the cookie dough ice cream and I'm gonna join you on the counter." Roy said.

"Okay?" Robin said before shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

In less than a minute he was sitting next to his short best friend. 

"So you wanna talk about the nightmare?" Roy asked.

"No. Why are you up?" 

"I always eat a midnight snack." Roy licked the scoop of ice cream he had made.

"Oh." 

"But for real, talk to me Romeo." Roy said.

Robin said. "I shouldn't have came over today."

"Yesterday. It's midnight." Roy pointed out.

Robin lightly hit his shoulder. "You wanted me to talk so let me talk." 

"Okay, okay. Carry on."

"Yesterday was an anniversary… of the death of my parents." Robin said.

"Shit. That sucks Rob. I get it though. I remember the day of the fire that killed my old man so vividly even after nine years and then old Raymond's death about two years ago… how long has it been for you?" Roy asked before taking a bite of his ice cream.

"Five years. Five years ago yesterday my mom and dad were dead in front of me. And watching Dumbo didn't do me any favors." Robin sighed. Dead in front of him? Roy wanted to hug Robin and make him feel better.

"Were they killed by elephants?" Roy asked.

Robin laughed. "No… don't tell anyone but I was raised in a circus." 

"Were you a clown?" Roy asked with a smirk.

"An acrobat, you asshole." Robin elbowed him. In return Roy hit him lightly with the spoon; leaving ice cream on Robin's cheek.

"Roy!" Robin hissed.

Roy chuckled and licked the ice cream off of Robin's cheek. The smaller boy made an inhuman noise before licking Roy's arm.

"You dick!" Roy yelled.

"Oh you have no idea." Robin giggled.

A few months after that night Roy and Robin were up again late at night, however this time the whole team was with them.

Robin stood in front of them. "I have something to tell you guys." 

"You're gay? Because same dude." Donna asked. Roy kinda hoped Robin would agree 

"No. Well, I'm bi but that's not what I'm talking about." Robin's hands went to his mask. Holy shit. Roy's eyes widened. Was Robin really gonna finally tell them all his secret identity?

Robin pulled off his mask and Roy held his breath. Robin had beautiful blue eyes that reminded Roy of the night sky. "My name is Dick Grayson." 

Roy blinked he knew that name. Bruce Wayne's ward. The cute funny boy he met months ago. That dick knew who Roy was.

"Robin. Home now." A voice behind them all made Roy jump. Batman. Bruce Wayne. 

"But they're my friends." Robin, no, Dick said.

Many years later Roy found Dick alone on a roof in New York City. 

"Hello Romeo." Roy said.

"Hello Mr. Harper." Dick raised an eyebrow.

"Whatcha doing up here?" Roy asked.

"Just thinking about stuff."

"Girl or boy stuff?"

"What are you thirteen?"

"Give or take twenty-six years." Roy laughed.

"Girl stuff. Sort of. Kori's back."

"Oh." 

"She has a daughter. A baby." 

"Oh. Oh. Yours?" Roy asked.

"Yeah. Her name is Princess Mar'iand'r Donna Grayson." 

"That's a fucking fancy name. Lian is just Lian Anna Harper." Roy sat down next to Dick.

"How'd you handle it?" 

"I didn't. I just tried my best. You know?" 

"Not really." 

"Well I can help you. Besides Lian loves you and will love little Mars."

Dick laughed. "You haven't even met her and you already gave her a nickname." 

Roy smiled. "Well, Mr. Grayson, she's your kid so she's definitely amazing and wonderful and adorable and sweet." 

"Wow, you're such a charmer." Dick smiled.

Roy wrapped an arm around him. "Of course I am, baby."

"You were cuter when we were younger." Dick said.

"Really? Am I ugly now?"

"No. Just not cute." 

"Handsome?" 

"Maybe." 

Roy didn't know who kissed who first but his lips were definitely touching Dick's lips and his tongue was definitely in Dick's mouth and Dick's tongue was in his mouth. And wow now he was thinking about Dick and Dick's dick.

He started to laugh. Dick pulled away, "What's so funny, Red?" 

"Your name is Dick." 

"You're so immature." 

"But you love that about me." 

"Oh shut it." Dick said before kissing Roy. 

Roy could definitely get use to kissing his best friend.

#dickroy #safedickroyweek2019 #roy harper #dick grayson #bruce wayne #ollie queen #oliver queen #donna troy #red rose fanfic

[ao3feed-jaytim]

Nightmares.

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Tocbv7

by Azemex

“What? Jason? What’s…” Jason hush him, and Tim stops talking.

“Did you hear that? There was someone crying” he is whispering, and Tim finally takes the time to listen.

“What the fuck?” he mumbles and notices Jason’s smirk.

“Hear that? There’s a ghost in the house” he knows he is making a face because Jason snorts.

 Its 4 am and Tim just wants to sleep but apparently there's a ghost crying in the house.

Words: 1569, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Jaytim ― Stories

Fandoms: DCU (Comics), DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned) - Character, Damian Wayne (Mentioned), Bruce Wayne (Mentioned)

Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Dynamics, Humor, Crack, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Crack, little angst, Does it even count as angst if the character doesn't even feel the angst??, just in case tho, There's a baby involved

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Tocbv7

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #jaytim #batman (comics) #dcu

[ao3feed-timdrake]

Nightmares.

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Tocbv7

by Azemex

“What? Jason? What’s…” Jason hush him, and Tim stops talking.

“Did you hear that? There was someone crying” he is whispering, and Tim finally takes the time to listen.

“What the fuck?” he mumbles and notices Jason’s smirk.

“Hear that? There’s a ghost in the house” he knows he is making a face because Jason snorts.

 Its 4 am and Tim just wants to sleep but apparently there's a ghost crying in the house.

Words: 1568, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Jaytim ― Stories

Fandoms: DCU (Comics), DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned) - Character, Damian Wayne (Mentioned), Bruce Wayne (Mentioned)

Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Dynamics, Humor, Crack, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Crack, little angst, Does it even count as angst if the character doesn't even feel the angst??, just in case tho, There's a baby involved

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Tocbv7

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #DC #DC comics #Tim Drake #Batman #teen titans #young justice

[pudding-bretzel]

Summary: Protecting what's important to oneself is instinct. When you see someone you hold dear getting hurt, you help. It's something that comes naturally. For a vigilante that instinct is extended to every being that is in need for help and that instinct doesn't stopp just because they're not wearing their uniform.

Or: When Jason tries to help the screaming child he finds in a dark alley, he never would've expected this night to turn into one of his worst nightmares. Or that it could be his last.

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Tim Drake

Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

Jason awoke to the feeling of water filling his lungs. With a violent cough he turned his head to the side, trying to get rid of some of the fluid. Cold water ran down his face, landing in a splash on the hard ground beneath. Somewhere in his still foggy mind he registered that the concrete beneath his right cheek was wet as well and cold, heavy rain pouring down onto him.

When all the water had left his lungs, he tried moving his arm, but found that he could barely move his fingertips. Only now he registered the biting cold that seeped through his clothes and the numb feeling of his whole body. Fucking rain, he grimly thought and with a louder groan than he would admit and requiring more strength than he preferred, he dragged his arm over his chest and with agonizingly slow movements pushed his upper body from the cold and wet concrete.

Looking down onto the ground with a still blurry vision, he could think of only one question in that moment. Why was he sleeping on the concrete, in the middle of the night, while it was fucking raining? He couldn’t, for the love of God, remember how he ended up here, in a dingy alley in Gotham. And it was Gotham, without a doubt. His head may be mostly dizzy right now and he might not remember a thing about how he ended up here, but he would recognize the sounds of Gotham at night even in his next life. That, and someone stole his jacket and his watch. Because looking at his short-sleeved shirt and bare wrist showed him that both those things he’d definitely put on when he left his safe house this afternoon, were gone. So, either someone stole them or he’d done something with them himself and just couldn’t remember that as well.

And since this was Gotham it could very well be the former, because stealing from an unconscious teenager in an alley while it was raining cats and dogs would fit almost every lowlife in this godforsaken city.

Taking deep breaths through his mouth, Jason dragged his gaze up and through his wet bangs took his first look at his surroundings. He knew that should have been his first action and under other circumstances he would tear himself a new one for his sloppiness, but through his foggy mind, dampened by the cold, he should be happy he at least thought of it now. Better late than never, that’s what they always say, right?

At first, he could barely make out anything, his eyes needing more time than was normal to adjust, but soon he could safely say that his hunch had been right. He was in an alley, his back turned to the mouth and his gaze getting lost in the sheer endless depths of it. But before his eyes could start focusing on anything other than that he noticed the slumped form lying only a few feet away from him.

Blinking some more of the fogginess away he concentrated on the body, trying to make out more details. Their head was pointing towards him, though he couldn’t see their face. Brown shoulder length hair was splayed out on the floor and wet, just like everything else he could see. The clothes were a blur of happy colors, dampened by dirt and rain and who knew what else. Next to their body laid a flowery hairband. With agonizing slow thoughts Jason realized what he was looking at. It wasn’t just any body of some poor soul who’d fallen pray to Gotham’s harsh rules, but a child.

A little girl.

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#Jason Todd #Fanfiction #Mind control #Hurt #Angst