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simpingwriter · 9 months

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Jerome Valeska

Faith Wayne/Phoenix

'All you need

is a bit of Faith'

pt.3

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Playing 20 Questions, what better way is there to bond with each other!

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 4.706 Words

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"I don't know what the fuck you mean, Carrotboy." Was that really the best your stupid fucking brain came up with?! Bruce would be disappointed hearing your pathetic attempt at talking yourself out of this situation.

Almost as bad as the day Gordon deduced you as being the girl behind Phoenix and all you said was: "Wha? Me? Phoenix? Nah, old man." All while standing right next to Batman as casual as you unfortunately could be for an apparently all normal Gothamite. But today was really one of the days you could've used your brain to work for you and not against you.

Sometimes it felt like your brain was a mini version of Jason, throwing a set of Tim's DnD dice every morning just to decide whether or not it would be helpful or a menace/bother to you.

"Sure. And I am blonde." Yeah yeah, you get it, you really weren't good at lying sometimes, shut up buddy-boy. "Why do you care if I am or not?" You ask back instead, without explicitly confirming or denying his question either way, coughing a bit from the dust on the floor you disturbed by letting yourself fall onto your knees. All other cells beside yours and his were empty once more…the guard really decided to lock you two away. This felt like a less terrible Solidary.

You really shouldn't have thought too soon when you saw that Solidary Holding Sign last time…this is all dragging your time for this investigation out. This is going to take foreverrrrrrrr. You feel yourself go insane already, alone at the fact that you're here already for one and a half days and you hadn't made ANY progress.

"I just…it's weird. I have been here since a whole hellish month now and no one gave a fuck about me, except if they could steal my lunch or push my head into it." It's not like the food here is very missable, you bet. But it would explain why he looked a bit…thin…for his age and height. "Hungry then, I'm guessing?" "Fuckin' starving, girly."

You hum at that, placing your forehead against the rough gray bricks of the wall that was between you two. "If they at least wouldn't have locked me in here as well – after all its not like I can't stand up for myself –, I could have gotten us something. Doubt it's worth it though? Tastes like dog food?" The ginger on the other side chuckles, wincing out audibly due to some of his healing facial wounds though, "You betcha, but if it's the only thing you get here and you got no connections to the guards, it's gonna taste at least mediocre very soon."

Let's hope you're not here for too long to test out his assumptions on the food.

"So if you're not an inmate…who are you? A guard they snuck in? To hear us out? Are they perhaps suspecting a breach?" Guessing you as a guard wasn't too far off. You didn't know him, you didn't know if one of your siblings or even Bruce caught him and threw him in here, so you would definitely not reveal your identity as Phoenix to him. That would be so fucking stupid either damn way, you didn't reveal that to even your best friends. After all it was an incredibly important rule next to the "Do not kill your enemy." Rule. A rule you and Jason regularly acted like it doesn't exist. Oops.

Never reveal your identity to ANYONE without Bruce's explicit permission. Not just for the protection of the Family's secret and their safety but also for the safety of the people you're all close to, both those that knew you all as the masked heroes/vigilantes or as the normal citizens you're outside of Patrols or missions.

"Not a guard. Don't you think you would've seen me before then?" While you continued talking to him, your eyes scanned the surroundings a second time, hoping you missed something but you got the sense you would have to use some of the things you sneaked into the Asylum. The positives of being a female "Inmate" while only men were on shift for registration? They couldn't legally frisk you, even at Arkham. "I don't know. As said, been here for a month only now…you could've been on vacation beforehand." "Trust me, what I actually …my job doesn't even know what month-long vacations are. A weekend...maybe." You stand up from your dusty, dirty spot on the floor, brushing your now cement-dusted hands off on your already nasty looking prisoner uniform before slipping a small black plastic object from your cleavage. Big tits had their various perks on various occasions, like great hiding spots for small tools. Like your trusty, assorted lockpicks in the form similar to a pocket knife. Never going anywhere without it.

"...Are you still-" He stops himself when he hears a small click from the side of your cell, then the "quiet" sliding of a metal door. And when he turned his head, you were already outside his own cell, crouching over to work on the lock of his cell door. His eyes widened at how quiet your footwork seemed to be that he didn't even hear you walk out of yours and over to his cell. "How did…how are you not afr- " "Shhh, I watched their pattern yesterday, that of the guards. They periodically take 20 minute breaks while the cells are empty and are usually gone for another extra 15 because why the hell should they watch empty cells after all, right?"

He watches you pick the lock with no sweat caused, nodding a bit unsure at your explanation, not knowing any better himself as he crawls backwards slowly once you slid his cell door open as well, not shutting it fully behind you as well to get out again more quickly once you had to.

"Yeah no…you're definitely not a guard. Fucking hell…who are you!?" You squint at his defensive position, looking up at you from his small, almost curled up spot on the ground. His black eye was healing better than you expected for the fact that he seems to be missing the important minerals and vitamins to have his body heal his wounds at a normal rate. Depending on how long you're stuck here as well, you had to somehow get him something to eat…perhaps you could bribe a guard to get him actual food. Not the other…"food". Eh, disgusting.

"Fine, I'll tell ya. But first of all, get off the damn floor, you look at me like you think I would stomp your head in. Why should I beat you up after I stopped that SUV-build of a man from taking care of that job? Makes no sense at all." He must've realized so too, looking to the side in embarrassment before using the wall next to him to stand up and move over to the "bed" in the left corner of the room, next to the wall of your cell.

After one night on them already, your comfort-spoiled back cracked like a nightlight stick this morning, you were way too used to the comfy, perfect mattress of your bed at home…hmm, not too soft, not too hard…

You snap out of your daydream when you see the confused tilt of his head, waiting for your reveal and your explanation. First though, you had to make something sure. "How are the wounds?" He frowns a bit, yet shrugs, "Nothing I didn't have to deal with before…" Was he a street kid before he was taken here? You then would expect him to be just slightly better at defending himself, or at least at avoiding the grudge of others.

"Street kid?" "...Well, no. I was able to avoid that at least. I uh…nevermind." "Fine, then I'll keep my secret as well." You claim boldly, throwing yourself next to him onto the hard bed, nearly touching him at how close you came by accident.

Sitting this close, you were able to look at his bandaged face much better, his suddenly wide open eyes revealing what a beautiful shade of dark green they were. What a shame that he was probably absolutely nuts, the slight sign of usually probably very obvious freckles on his face would almost melt away your first opinion of him: Inmate in Arkham, hands off.

"W-what? No! I wanna know…" "How 'bout a game then? 20 Questions." "That...is not a game."

It was to you and your adoptive siblings, well, when you all were still younger at least. It was the best game next to 'I spy with my little eye' to pass the time with on Patrol and to you it was the early bonding time you often missed out on with them back then in your own opinion. It was a good trick to make them be a bit more open about themselves, maybe it worked with the Ginger too. "It is, you just don't have enough imagination i guess. 20 Questions, no lying. Deal?" Stretching your hand out towards the pale one in his lap, you smile sweetly at him. If all of Arkham already hates you two, why shouldn't you two team up at least?

"...Deal. But I ask the first one." Sure, why shouldn't he, if it makes him happy.

"If you're not a guard, who are you then?" Didn't expect any other question, to be fair. But you made the rules yourself, no lying. Well, to a degree with this question, you definitely wouldn't reveal your identity THIS easily, to an Arkham inmate even less. "A Detective Aide." It wasn't a complete lie, you're technically under questionable contract with Jim, in case the media ever wondered how you, a normal citizen, ended up at so many of the crime scenes, seemingly helping the real Detectives with their jobs.

"...wait. You're with the GCPD??" Seems like you struck a sensitive spot with that already, even his bruised eye opening a bit alongside his other one from the shock as he scoots away from you by a few inches. "I'm guessing the GCPD then caught you for whomever you killed?" His green eye caught your dark blue ones, he looked like a deer in headlights, "Y-you could say that. Yeah…I was finally free and they threw me back into a new cage…"

Finally free?

"My turn. What the hell is your name anyway, I don't want to keep calling you Ginger or Carrotboy for all eternity." "Well, unlike me, if you're working with these corrupt dickwads, you aren't exactly stuck an eternity here, are ya?" Well, it heavily depends on how long they would let you simmer in the cells and nothing else. Might as well become an eternity with your usual amount of luck.

"...oh…and it's Jerome. Jerome Valeska. Yours?" Huh. You swore you heard that name somewhere before, you just didn't know exactly where. If he killed someone, he might've been in the news that day? Though this was Gotham's newspapers you're thinking about here, if they'd waste even an inch of paper for one measly murder case, it'd be really fucking odd.

But a mass murder caused by the Joker's Laughing Gas? Yeah. That would probably manage to find a spot. Somewhere.

"I take that as your second question, Jerome. My name…well, first I need you to promise to not utter it to anyone in here." "Do you realize that they'd punch my teeth out before I could even mention it?" Point taken at that, yeah, who even knew if they would believe him if they already wanted him dead for some reason.

"My undercover name is Magdalena…but my real name is Faith Wayne."

Till now, all your answers already sent some kind of fresh shock anew through him, so once more he stared at you in disbelief, "Faith…Wayne?! You're a-" "Wayne isn't an uncommon surname, mind you." He pulls his brows up, having a hard time believing you, not that 'Wayne' is common for a surname. But that you're not A Wayne.

"But are-" "Yeah." "Damn. …How did a Wayne end up as an Aide? I would expect you to someday get your father's company…or at least work there by now." And be hated by all of Gotham, not just its mass of criminals!? HA. NO!

"I...would rather not…too much work, which I already got enough of on most days." Cleary your answer only spawned more fresh question marks in Jerome's head as he kept looking at you just as lost as before. "Adopted or…"

"Biological."

"So…with you knowing that I am a Wayne, yay, you basically know where I live alread-" "Some extremely extravagant old-money house I am guessing." Nail on the head, yeah. You nod at that, in a 'More or less' way before you pick your interrupted sentence back up, "Where did you live before your address was changed into Arkham?" He had started picking at his fingers, especially the dry skin around his nails as he pulls his lips into a grimace. His home didn't give him good memories then, like most people that were here now. You doubt there is even one Inmate in Arkham that didn't have at least one bad or even terrible memory of their old homes.

"A…a traveling Circus. Does Haly's Circus ring a bell?" Ring a bell?! It was etched into your mind from your brother's childhood stories. Of course you did. "I…I actually know very well what Circus you mean…one of my adopted brothers lived and worked there with his parents as well." His mouth formed an O at that, surprise even more evident even with his still aching wounds keeping his facial expressions on the low pretty much, but he definitely didn't look like he wanted to be left in the dark about your Brother now. "Does the name Grayson ring a bell to you then?"

He was unsurprisingly quick to nod at that, "The flying Graysons. I heard of the "incident" that killed them back then from some talk I overheard while working, I was only 3 then yet though, when they died. So I fortunately didn't witness it, even if, I wouldn’t remember I guess…" You couldn't believe it, of course they most likely never met, but Dick was in the same Circus as the ginger next to you. It was shocking how small the world sometimes really was, but not all that weird if your own whole life circled around nothing but Gotham and the surrounding area…

For a few moments, both of you sat quietly, working on digesting and processing the new information: For you it was the Circus that connected you to two people now, for Jerome the fact that your a Wayne.

He would've expected anything but that.

He was first to continue though, turning more towards you so he didn't have to crane his neck to the side the whole time, leaning against the wall as he pulled his legs against his chest, mustering you more thoroughly, "So…how is it living with a billionaire dad?" Yeah, how was such a life?

"Pretty damn boring sometimes. Not even because I can have or do have everything I would possibly want, nah, he didn't raise us like that must I add. But…the fucking events, the gala about every. second. month. They make us want to bash our heads in, to put it bluntly but honest. My second oldest brother was close to making it a reality once because he hates formal suits like the plague." It was something you rarely confessed to other people, as you promised to keep a somewhat good impression in front of strangers for Bruce, so it felt a bit weird feeling so at ease with sharing your distaste for your boring ass rich kid life with the boy in front of you.

Maybe because there was an incredibly low chance he would ever see the world beyond the gates of Arkham again to talk about your deeply personal feelings…

Why did that idea sound so…terrible to you? He killed someone for God's sake! ...He still didn't look the part either way, his ginger hair, crusted over even now with his own blood, one stray, unruly lock of it hanging away and over his forehead, the dimmed freckles on his face, nose and even going down his neck, probably continuing on his shoulders...and the rest of his body. The deep interest buried into his unbruised eye at all the things he got to know about you and all it made him want to know more about you.

Had you met him outside of Arkham, he would've never come to your mind as the subject of probably cold blooded murder. And from all of Batman's "Robins", you're the one that could see through the many masks of your fellow humans the best. So why, if there was one, could you not see through his? "Do...do I have something on my face?" Wait, have you been staring at his face the whole time of your stupid inner monologue!? Oh great, not weird at all, Faith. But you're literally here as a crazy person, undercover, but either way: you were allowed to stare.

"A few freckles are saying hi. But other than that, no."

"Don't start with them now…I can't even count as far for how often I was bullied for them at that stupid fucking shithole of a Circus before! I hate them!" He hates his...freckles? Why? They aren't even that prominent on him, which might be due to the current lack of daily sunlight in Arkham. But how can anybody bully someone for them, you wished you had freckles but noooo, your Dad's stupid genes made you look so damn basic, black hair, blue eyes, wohoo baby... "I think they look really nice on you, though I think you need to get out into the sun a bit more again…" "...Nice!? I doubt anyone ever even thought about complimenting them…" Jerome laments, first caught off guard, then in thought, brushing with his non-bandaged hand over said few still visible patches of them on his cheeks. It was very obvious that he was badly self-conscious about them, a random girl telling him that she liked them wouldn't be able to fix years of negative comments about them like magic.

Sometimes you wished insecurities worked that way though, that all a person needs is ONE compliment and everything is forgotten. But nothing is ever that easy.

"Well, you were surrounded by cunts then. I doubt you will ever have to see any of these people again though, so forget what they said about you. The past is the past, live in the present, and always keep planning ahead for the future." A short, melancholic chuckle shook his body for a moment as he also shook his head, letting the hand fall back onto his knees as he toyed with the pillow in his other hand. As much as the bandage let him at least. "What future…this cell is my only future, where they will let me rot and decay if need be. I will die in here, either from malnutrition, the other nutcases here…or myself. Whoever or whatever is quicker." He tried to hide it, but you saw his eyes both glaze over, quick to soak the threatening tears up with the bandage around his right hand.

He knew his most likely fate. So did you.

So why did you tell him about all this, knowing it would only hurt him further? Were you that detached from reality sometimes?

"I'm sorr-" "It's okay." "No it isn't, I…I forget my manners or to think through my words, especially now. I can't help it..." The last time you took your medication was two days ago now, the afternoon before this Undercover Mission began. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, had the accident yesterday not happened – would you be able to investigate now instead of being stuck in the cell blocks because otherwise your head would be attempted to be smashed into pancake batter – you could've managed with the steady decline of the meds missing in your system.

"Why?" Asks the actual inmate, yeah thanks. "Impulsivity Disorder, a bit like ADHD but without all the other shtick connected to that. So even if I am not a real Inmate…I have a bit of a crack running through my noggin too. Ha…ironic sometimes…" Phoenix, a vigilante hunting down the insane and crazy of Gotham…is one of them. Well, your condition is still much more mild than whatever is wrong with some of the women and men in here, you don't violently rip the head of Squirrels off to eat them like Cocoa Puffs, for a quite brutal but unfortunately not made-up and gruesome example. "And you? Has anyone ever told you what made you…you?" He shook his head yes, but didn't immediately come out with the words, instead he felt his eyes wander up to the ceiling of the cell. Just as boring and plain as everything else around the two of you – the only interesting aspects right now.

"..."Diagnosed" as a psychopath…if they only knew how long it took for me to get pushed this far…too far." Air quotes added to the word 'Diagnosed' woke your curiosity anew as you used the fact of the beds being slightly wider than a normal single bed format to lie down with your head at the opposite end of it, slightly tilted to position your now propped up legs, one folded over the other, next to his. He looked caught off guard how even after, especially after, he confessed his own condition, his reason for being in Arkham and not a normal prison, you kept being so close to him on your own free will. Hell, you even got more comfortable.

...Psychopathy.

Psychopaths are good at hiding their true selves, but as you mentioned earlier, you were uncannily good at seeing through such masks as well. And yes, that included those of Psychopaths and Sociopaths. So when your first thought of "Shit, he is probably only acting shy, he might be manipulating you." crossed your mind, moments after you heard of his diagnosis, "diagnosis", it was just as quickly rubbed away again by that comically large mental eraser when you realized that you would've most certainly noticed if that werethe damn case. If he would've had lied till now.

But he took this game of questions as serious as you hoped he would. Unlike your unruly siblings sometimes, especially your youngest brother, that little Garden Gnome with an attitude.

"Why the air quotes?" You ask the question that burned you the most of all he just said, wanting to know how it came to said diagnosis. "You're gonna laugh…a Detective just wrote it down. Arkham accepted it as a real diagnosis, didn't question it at all. They didn't even call for a "second assessment". Air quotes this time because there wasn't a first one in the first place of fucking course…" So…it might be some other mental problem…or none at all. But the GCPD wanted to make their job easier, or that one Detective at least…

Even after everything you and your family are trying to do, everything the Commissioner is trying to do…corruption is eating up even the Police to this very day. Will Gotham ever see the day that the innocent and the rightful, the law abiding citizens win? Well, Jerome still killed someone, he wasn't really all that innocent. But he had been helpless either way in that moment, his fate was left in the hands of the Detectives and Officers taking care of his file, his case. In the hands one was supposed to be able to trust.

"...You mentioned that you were…pushed too far. If it's not too personal, who…was your victim? One of your bullies?" The pillow was gripped very tightly suddenly at your question, a dark look overshadowing his own curiosity as you realized he was about to lose to his tears again, angry ones this time. "No." "Then-" "I killed my mother." Oh. Oh damn.

And that was the same thing and only thing that you managed to form with your IQ of impressive 160. "Oh. Oh damn."

"Yeah, I doubt you want to hear that. They didn't listen either."

Because they don't care. All they saw was a crazy, probably insane boy that killed his poor mother, they didn't care to dig any further, you don't doubt that with these underpaid fuckwits sometimes. As often as you had to work with them, you wished you didn't have to, but it was a deal made with Jim. As your Patrols didn't often end all that calmly, much like Jason's. The two of you were only "Robins" not turned off by the idea of "accidentally" dragging a criminal across the asphalt with your cars or motorcycles. And Jim knew that. Being the closest to you of all of Batman's Sidekicks, he also was much more lenient.

Help the GCPD every once in a while with something too difficult for their normal Detectives and your own "crimes" don't make it into the files. Sometimes you could throw in a good word for Jason as well.

You had to work with people whose work ethics made you question even the system you were supposed to protect with your family. If anything, it needed to be reformed, not the people alone. Desperately.

"No. I do. I'm not the police, I do want to know." "Didn't you just say you're an Aide for them?" Well... yeah. You did. So what.

You lift your head to lock eyes with him, eyebrows knitted together at him in some way or another for calling out your one half-lie between all your truthfulness until now. You definitely wouldn't acknowledge it this time, he would have to believe either the first or the latter version. But only you knew that both are right in a way. "You have the chance to tell your side of the story to someone who promises to listen and you begin questioning that person's occupation?"

He returned the same irritated expression, as much as he could without wincing out again, holding the bandage over his cheek before grumbling out at you, since not only you knew that you're right. "...all…all of it?" "If it is needed to explain your reasoning of going with such a brutal decision of killing your own mother, yes. All of it."

His mother forced him to take care of nearly all chores around their small, crammed trailer that 3 people had to live in. If he wasn't fast enough or she found the smallest something to complain about in how he did it, and he told you that she found a reason basically every damn time, Lila, he said was her name, would beat him. Often, regularly and routinely even, to the point he wouldn't just bruise but also bleed or have to limp for weeks from how hard she would hit him, naturally with help of other objects than her hands as well.

The last ten minutes of your sneaked in stay in his own bleak cell were spent with him telling you about his childhood, of growing up at Haly's ever since he could remember. Of course all that while you made sure to analyze every twitch of a muscle and any non present one, the movements of his hands. Everything. He begins with the fact that he even had a twin brother, named Jeremiah. Of the cruel way the other residents and workers of the Circus treated him as a kid. All he was used for by the Circus was to dispose of the dung and shit all the Circus' animals left behind after the shows and feeding or cleaning routines.

All the while, she fucked a new man every second day, right in the next room or trailer, depending on who the newest man was. Clowns, Acrobats, Lion-Tamers…everything.

Then he told you about what his brother did to him, how their mother only turned her punishments and beating up a notch of extreme…because his twin told their mother that Jerome wanted to kill him in his sleep. Jerome was adamant towards you about that having been a blatant lie, as he couldn't have even done so, he was locked in a literal animal's travel cage that winter night, by his own mother as well, so she could've denied it too.

And one night, Jerome confessed, he could no longer hold onto his rage, his anger that build for all these years…he just couldn't hold it back any longer. He let his vile, dark thoughts become real and he killed her, but he waited until she touched him again, when she came in to beat him for forgetting to clean the beer cans up. With an axe, he explained, his eyes unfocused as he stared at his hands, those that held the murder weapon. His uncle, he said that fact with a sour tone, helped him try to cover it up but as he was here now, it clearly didn't work.

But she didn't, she simply used that event as an incentive to "discipline" the "black sheep of her family" even further.

You could only imagine the amount of nights Jerome spent trying to find any spot of his body he cpuld lie on without putting pressure on his bruised skin. The tears that must've fallen in all these hellish nights...

And then you were all caught up to his situation, eyes wide the whole time, your continuous follow up questions, for everything he told you with a knot in throat, just as choked out as his answers. You simply couldn't or didn't want to believe that he went through all these things…and he defended himself…he wanted…freedom.

And Arkham is what he got in return…

"Jerome, I-" you just wanted to give him your honest opinion on it all when you hear it in the distance: the jingling of two heavy key rings. The guards are coming back! "What?" Your hearing seems to be better than his as you hushed him, quickly sitting up on the bed to push a finger against his lips, getting incredibly close to the now unhindered crying boy. Again, an action from your side that happened without much thought from your end as you motioned him to either be quiet or to whisper now.

You didn’t want to leave his side already, especially not now! He looked like he was about to fall in on himself like an old building with you causing him to dig back up all of this past trauma, having given up to hold back the tears. His eyes puffy, they look into yours like a kicked puppy,

"Please don't leave me now…"

In that moment you realize that you're probably the first person he told about his abuse, about everything…a stranger he met yesterday was kinder and more understanding than any adult or other person he came across in his poor excuse of a life. He deserves to have at least one person to listen to him.

To hear him out.

But you had to leave for now, get back to your own cell before the guard saw that you had the tools to open them yourself. With a bitter, apologetic smile, you slowly get off his bed, nodding slowly at him when he keeps silent. But you couldn't give a promise without words either way, so, when you slide the cell door open as quietly as even possible, you turn towards the now absolutely miserable looking ginger one last time for today it seemed.

"We will talk more…I promise, just have some Faith."

#jerome velaska #jerome valeska x oc #Jerome Valeska x batsis!OC #batfam x oc #batfam x batsis #batfam x batsis!oc #Innocent Jerome Valeska #dc x oc

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anothertimdrakestan · 3 years

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Batfam On A Road Trip HC

req: “Batfam on a road trip? It’s been on my mind for like a week-”

oh god it’s probably so chaotic... and like distinctly dangerous???

also this is my car AU where there’s infinite rows of seats in the car until I’m done.

we’ve got Bruce driving - even though Damian, Dick, Tim, Jason, AND Steph all tried to get behind the wheel but after last years incident the only people allowed to drive are Bruce and Duke but Duke doesn’t like driving with his siblings bouncing off the damn walls.

Speaking of Duke, mans snagged himself a window seat SO FAST it would make your head spin. He likes to sit next to Damian (who got put in the middle because he’s the smallest) and they share earbuds and Duke’s phone which is loaded with like 128 hours of songs. Against popular belief, Damian is actually good at sharing when it’s not with one of his more “obnoxious” siblings and he and Duke get along really well - they also have the same music taste. Duke changes between queue-ing songs, staring out the window making little stories in his head, and watching Damian draw. He occasionally is tasked with holding the sharp objects smuggled into the car after they’re discovered by Bruce as he’s the second most responsible (after Cass).

Speaking of the most responsible sibling, Cass somehow got shotgun next to Bruce. This is because she’s the only who makes him not want to throw himself out of the car and she’s a pretty good navigator. So, as she tries to moderate the back of the car she also is in charge of agreeing on pit stops and coffee breaks which works well because Cass is fair and no one can be an asshole to her. On the first road trip Cass discovered a Wendy’s Frosty and now she will usually write at least one Wendy’s stop into the trip - no one complains except Tim who is forbidden from ordering the spicy nuggets after last years incident.

Tim, the one notorious for threatening to throw himself out of the car most often, is sat in the far back. He someone gets a row to himself under the guise of “sleeping” when in reality he spends the trip typing away on his laptop, chugging monster energy drinks, and occasionally trying to make Dick bark like a dog through some kind of sleep-manipulation he read about one night at 2am. It involves him whispering in his ear and usually ends up making the whole car uncomfortable, except Jason who thinks it’s the funniest shit ever. However, after the incident his back seat gets thoroughly checked by Bruce for stowaways every pitstop, but he’d never store a secret in the same place twice...

We move to Jason! Who sits next to Steph. They’re the snack distributors. Known for throwing popcorn in the other’s mouths but it usually ends up being thrown at Bruce, Damian, or both. Jason is a champ at fruit roll up eating competitions. He claims it’s because his tongue is so strong from eating... nevermind. Jason is surprisingly organized about the snacks, and frequently restocks (with Bruce’s credit card of course) on pit stops. Jason likes to complain early into the trip but by the end he’s telling the most fun stories, singing the loudest, and causing the most trouble. His and Steph’s row is definitely the most fun. But he’s still on the list with Bruce after helping Tim become a world class smuggler during the trip that shall not be named.

Steph is the family interpreter. She shares messages from the back to the front and vice versa. She’s known for saying the back row is hungry when it was in fact her but everyone loves her for her honesty. She’s the first to ask for a leg stretch break, and the one who puts on good songs after Dick has had the aux for too long. She’s basically the lorax of the batfam road trip. She usually makes the snack packs that are distributed throughout the car and is known for memorizing everyone’s favorites to optimize the best snacks. Steph actually wasn’t in the car for the great incident, she often questions what happened but only knows what Dick quietly whispered to her, something about feeding nuggets to a foreign passenger...

Dick, the storyteller, the terrible-music-meister, the road trip organizer himself, sits on the other side of Damian. He was the one who purposefully cleared everyone’s schedule for the weekend and who roughly planned the route. Dick works closely with Cass to make sure they’re going the right way and he also mediates all fights that occur during the trip, and trust that there are a lot. Dick is known for being restless and often throws his head out the window on the freeway “just to feel something” his quote not mine. Dick is incharge of taking all dangerous items off Damian (and sometimes Tim’s) person before the trip and he was in the most trouble when the intruders were found during last years incident. But he took it with stride and promised Bruce this year would be better!

Damian, the deeply unhappy middle seater, can be found drawing and pretending he can’t hear Grayson blabbing on about “this crazy adventure he had as Robin so sooo long ago”. Damian is known for pouting through the first stop but after he’s had some quiet time he can actually be seen with the corners of his mouth upturned- especially if they drive past farms during the trip (Cass tries extra hard to make sure they do). Damian also had been known to try to run away during stops so he’s kind of heavily watched by Bruce and Dick. Luckily, his place in the middle seat means he’s far enough away from Tim to be “bothered by his mere presence” which is a significant win and close enough to Duke and Cass to keep him sane.

We are in fact missing two main people: Babs and Alfred. These two opt to stay home, getting the much deserved break they need. They like to have tea parties, cleaning extravaganzas, and (though they won’t admit it) the occasional dance break in the batcave when no one’s looking. They like to take the batmobile to get food and their guilty pleasure is watching rom-coms on the giant screen in the batcave while eating “trashy takeaways” as Alfred so eloquently calls them. These two have the best time, but if anyone asks they were simple awaiting the rest of their families return.

That’s how I think it’d go down! Overall I think it would be chaotic but not as bad as one might think, they are family after all : )

Oh wait, I forget, there are two more stowaways...

Bart and Kon are silent, Kon mostly flies above but occasionally slips into the trunk to rest with Bart. Bart easily slips into the trunk and is quite literally gone in a flash if Bruce ever suspects anything. Just because Tim can’t hand feed him nuggets doesn’t mean the boy isn’t read for road trip part two! He just hopes Kon made a flying stop at tacobell because he’s getting kinda hungry...

“Timmmm are we there yet?”

“DID I JUST HEAR WHAT I THINK I DID TIM”

“oh my god I finally experienced the great incident but now part two!”

“hi Steph! Yeah I’m here! Sorry Brucie, but yeah, can you pass me a twizzler?”

“HOW DID YOU DO THIS AGAIN TIM I SWEAR TO-”

yup, now that’s a batfam road trip : )

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fandom-writer642 · 3 years

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Street Rat Christmas

Summary: It’s (Y/n)’s first Christmas season with their new family but they don’t want to give up an old tradition. The problem? Jason and Selina are the only one’s in the family that have heard of the tradition, a Street Rat Christmas. The Batfamily, the Kent’s, and the Outlaws are going to be in for the culture shock of their lives as they find out why Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning are always so peaceful in the City of Demons, no matter the crimes that took place just before.

Note: Gender Neutral!Reader, Sweet and Friendly!Reader

Warning: Mention of Death

•••

Yet another sigh escaped from (Y/n)’s lips as they watched the snow gently fall to the ground through the window. The book that they were reading was abandoned in their lap as their (e/c) eyes watched the snowflakes shine and float down in the golden sunlight. Damian couldn’t help but frown at his sibling’s actions, he had been with his father for the past five years and he himself understood that Christmas was a time to be happy. Yet, he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that his normally happy sibling was depressed. Even Damian felt rather pleasant and calm during the two days the holiday was overly focused on.

“Is something the matter (L/n)? Typically you’re more chipper.”

“It’s just my first Christmas without my parents,” (Y/n) replied to him rather sadly. They were remembering how fun Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning always was for their family. Perhaps they could sneak out tonight and join the festivities? “It’s strange, we would be out preparing by now.”

Damian gave (Y/n) a rather quizzical look at that. He understood when they said that they would miss their parents, he couldn’t blame them. However, (Y/n) didn’t come from an amazing or rich family so the preparation note caught him off guard. (Y/n) could’ve been dubbed a street rat by many different people before Bruce had adopted them, and Damian was pretty sure that they had been called a street rat before. Hearing them say preparing was a strange thing, it wasn’t possible for their family since they couldn’t afford something big. Yet, it sounded like a yearly thing for his newest sibling to go through during the holiday season. (Y/n) shot him a smile before they left for their room, taking their book with them. Damian left the study shortly after (Y/n) had left and found himself at the enterance of the living room.

The room was lovely and had many decorations hung up around the room, making it look like the room had been part of a winter wonderland competition and the music in the background was a nice touch. Dick was sitting in an arm chair with Kori on his lap as the pair talked to Roy and Jason who sat on the closer end of the couch. Tim was talking to Kon and Lois on the other side of the couch while Cass talked quietly with Steph, Barbara, and Kate. Selina was sitting next to Bruce as he talked with Clark who had Jon at his side. The room was rather busy with chatter and far too loud for his tastes but he had learned to live with it at this point.

“Hey Damian!” Jon called out to his friend when he noticed him at the entryway. All conversation turn to a pivoting stop to the point that the sweet Christmas songs filled the air of the room. It was a known fact that Damian didn’t spend much time with his family on Christmas Eve until after lunch which was in two hours. “I was wondering where you were.”

Damian nodded his own greeting and understanding to his friend’s words. “I’m sure Jon. I’m however curious about something that doesn’t quite involve me but it does involve (L/n).”

That had caught the whole room’s attention. Everyone knew that (Y/n) was a helpful and sweet soul with little to absolutely no hurtful bone in their whole body.

“Is she alright?” Dick asked worriedly.

“Currently, I’m unaware. I’m well aware that it is their first Christmas without their family but they said something that peaked my interest.”

“What was it?”

“Well, they simply said that their family and themself would be out preparing for some sort of event at this point in time.”

Damian didn’t miss the look that Selina and Jason shared with the other, or the faint smiles on their lips. They had a look in their eyes that was similar if not identical to the one (Y/n) had held not that long ago.

“Preparing for what?” Tim asked curiously. His younger sibling tended to keep closer to Damian and Jason more than anyone else the family knew with the exception perhaps being Alfred.

Damian simply shook his head and kept himself from insulting the older boy, “I’m unaware. It simply peaked my interest because as we all know, (L/n) didn’t come from a very financially stable family. The way that they talked made it sound like an annual event.”

“A tradition on Christmas Eve? In Gotham?” Roy had almost laughed in disbelief. “That’s completely ridiculous. You said it yourself demon spawn, (Y/N) came from a pretty poor family, they don’t exactly have an overwhelming amount their family and them could do.

“No true,” Jason cut off before anyone could agree with his redhead friend. “I actually knew (Y/n) before she ever even met Bruce and moved in because of the festivities that take place on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Most people call it a Street Rat Christmas but the official term is a Street Rat Holiday. To put it simply, it’s the only break any street rat or poor family tends to get throughout the whole year.”

Bruce leaned forward at the newly acquired information. To him it sounded just like a charity event that takes place on Christmas Eve and Christmas in the worker side of town. The man couldn’t help but feel surprised that he had never heard of such an event even though he lived in Gotham for so long.

“How much do you know about it?” Tim asked.

“A lot,” Jason replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “I still tend to go every Christmas Eve no matter what. I don’t count the years I was either dead or presumably dead but I still go, I don’t care if there is a mission, I go.”

“What happens?

“Peace,” Jason smiled slightly. “We should go tonight. You guys just can’t attack or snap at anyone, you have to enjoy yourselves.”

“Why on earth would we snap or attack?” Dick spoke in surprise.

Jason couldn’t stop the small snort or the smirk pulling on his face. “Villains attend the festivities as well. There was an arrangement made between the villains, people, and GCPD that as long as they didn’t harm or make any sort of threats to anyone for that night or the next morning that they could attend.”

“And people talk and interact with them?” Kate spoke up, looking rather stunned by the information.

Selina couldn’t help but nod in agreement, “indeed. I attended a few years back and (Y/n) was there with their family while talking to all sorts of people. They mostly talked to Riddler, Two-Face, and Penguin when it came to interacting with the villains but they did interact with every villain. That includes Joker. Their family was always active in helping set up the event.

Jon had perked up like a puppy dog before speeding out of the room and up the stairs before coming back with a rather flustered looking (Y/n) in his arms. Gently he set them down on the floor which caused them to let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t like they didn’t trust Jon, they did, but it was different when he came into their room, picked them up and rushed them down to the living room at super speed. They were still getting used to the whole “living with superheroes” thing as it had only been two months since they moved in.

“What is going on?” They questioned after a moment.

“Just talking about how a Street Rat Christmas functions,” Jason replied to his younger sibling.

No one could miss the way that (Y/n)’s eyes had lit up at the mention of the event. They seemed happier almost immediately at the reminder of the event.

“Oh! Can we go?” (Y/n) turned to Bruce with large kitten eyes that Selina most definitely approved of. “Pleeeeaaaassseee?”

Bruce chuckled at his child’s beg for approval. He already knew what his choice was going to be but first, “I want to know more about this event before I agree to anything.”

“Well, where did I leave off?” Selina wondered. The newest family addition sat on the floor near Bruce and Selina while dragging Damian down and over with them.

“Villains,” Kori reminded.

Selina snapped her fingers with a smile, “right!”

–––

The group had arrived at a large park filled with people and laughter. A giant tree stood tall in the middle of the park and was decorated with all sorts of different and even strange ordiments that were clearly brought or made by the people at the party. Damian could help but let a faint smile appear on his lips as his sibling dragged him toward the main party.

None of the secret heroes could miss the villains in the crowd that greeted the pair with an honest to god real smile. They even saw Joker gift (Y/n) with a very pretty box, the fact made them tense at the sight but for some reason Jason was calm about it. He was calm about seeing his murderer gift his little sibling with a box that could very easily hold a trigger bomb. It made no sense and yet that is how it played out. The young Wayne had opened the gift with a smile and found it to be a purple and green scarf, something that was clearly made with the help of the Riddler.

The family moved around and tried the different activities such as a snow man building contest (Tim and Dick got third place), a scavenger hunt (Damian, Jason, and (Y/n) had easily won that), dance battle to Christmas music (Selina joined forces with Ivy and they got fifth), create an ordiment to hang on the giant tree, ice Christmas cookies, drink hot cocoa, ice skating, a Christmas song karaoke challenge, and many more events. Homeless kids and families were given blankets and clothes as well as other supplies at the end of the night. At three minutes to midnight everyone had gathered around the tree and many were talking excitedly, the kids especially.

“We wish you a merry Christmas”

The Waynes were surprised when everyone began to sing in perfect harmony, the villains, Jason, (Y/N), Selina, and many others were leading the uncertain children and newcomers in the song. Jason had a young girl in his arms who was singing along with him while looking at the glowing tree.

“We wish you a merry Christmas/ We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year”

Dick, Kori, Roy, and Steph had joined in the singing as well but to their surprise so had Damian. It was much quieter than the others but still noticeable enough.

“Good tidings we bring to you and your kin/We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year”

As everyone sang Bruce had decided one thing, he was going to have to participate in a Street Rat Christmas every year until he died. His family had been happier than they have in ages while Selina, Jason, and (Y/n) all got to keep a familiar tradition close to them and have the time to remember those that they love and miss; they all did.

•••

Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I hope you all have enjoyed this mini story and have a good holiday! I’m so sorry about lack of activity but I’ve been sooooo busy and a lot of things have been going on with my family so I’ve been stressed. Cya next time! I’m planning Batfamily x Reader x Miraculous Ladybug with Damianette in it, I’ve fallen into a hole and I can’t get out. That story will probably be a series but bare with me, I have little to know means to write as of recent do to issues.

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rainygothherowolf · 3 years

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Jasonette/Daminette- Little Sister Pt.2

Previous ~ Here ~ Next

Marinette was in the kitchen, preparing herself some hot chocolate. After the drama at Wayne tower, Jason insisted she stay with his family. Her older brother seemed to loathe the class with a passion, refusing to let her near them. Marinette's parents were hesitant at first, not trusting some random Gotham boy to take care of their daughter but eventually they were persuaded. Where she would be staying was definitely a factor, where could be safer?

"I don't see how you could stand to drink such sugary poison." Damian stated making her jump, he was right behind her. He reached past Marinette and to the cupboard she was in front of. He grabbed a teacup before pulling his arm back, his eyes never straying from her own.

"Well then... what do you suggest I drink?" Marinette's hot chocolate sat on the counter behind her, forgotten, as she turned and faced Damian. The Parisian crossed her arms defiantly, Damian looked down at her like she was a cute puppy.

"Tea has been known to calm frayed nerves, perhaps I could prepare you some?"

"W-why would I need to calm down? I feel perfectly fine!" Marinette declared, refusing to give in. Her stubbornness seemed to amuse Damian, he reached out and just barely brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Well, you've been blushing since you noticed I was here, for one. Now, would you like some tea? How do you take it?"

"I don't usually have tea. I tried making myself some a few times but always thought it tasted like bitter water."

"You haven't had my tea yet." Damian challenged, "You wouldn't be scared to try something I made, would you?" Marinette was coherent enough to see what he was doing, even if his imposing and, frankly, distracting physique was only a hair's breadth away.

"Only if you have my hot chocolate. Or are you scared of the 'sugary poison'?" Marinette offered, Damian leaned his head down just a fraction of an inch closer to Marinette before catching himself pulling away. He retreated back a few feet before turning to the sink.

"Alright then, it's a deal. I'll try the wretched holiday drink if you have my tea." Damian spoke with his back to her as he filled a kettle with water.

"Deal." Marinette agreed before heading to refrigerator, she's get him to admit her hot chocolate was good. No one called her favorite drink 'wretched' and got away with it.

"Deal." Damian reaffirmed.

By the time the drinks were done Marinette was thirsty, she would have had her own hot chocolate but Damian demanded she leave it, claiming it would cloud her pallet. She rolled her eyes at that but by the time she finally got past Damian's joking defense the drink was cold.

Marinette sipped from her cup first, Damian watched, both amused and attentive as she took a sip of the tea.

He laughed at her wrinkled nose, just for a moment- one could hardly call it a chuckle, before adding the cream.

"Try it now." Marinette looked at Damian hesitantly before taking another sip, this time he noticed her relax as a small smile graced her lips. Damian smirked at his little victory.

"Alright, your turn Monsieur." Damian rolled his eyes as Marinette watched him lift the mug. He felt she looked over excited for something so silly but found it strangely endearing.

The warm, smooth liquid made it's way past his lips and while it was a little too sweet for his liking, it was still good and he told her so.

"Fine, it was adequate." Marinette rolled her eyes before taking a taunting step toward him.

"Yeah right! That was some of my best work, you don't get to get away with calling it 'adequate'" Damian scoffed, taking a more intimidating step towards the short girl, one upping her in their little game of chicken.

"Then what do you suggest I call something I found too sweet but bearable?"

"Good! You call it good, it's important to be polite, Damian!" Marinette took another step forward forgetting how close they already were, refusing to back down. Damian had to look further down than usual to meet Marinette's passionately determined eyes.

He took his opportunity, using his right hand to tilt her chin upwards, smiling slightly, only slightly. They were so close, he could feel the warmth of her body from where he stood. Damian was about to speak when they saw someone walk into the kitchen, it was Jason.

The teenagers separated themselves quickly but it was too late, the damage was already done. The taller boy immediately scooped Marinette up and slung her over his shoulder. Jason was glaring daggers at a smug Damian before waking out of the room with Marinette. Damian waved goodbye to a blushing Parisian, she followed her old brothers lead and glared at the annoyingly smug boy.

The rest of Marinette's stay was an amusing balance between getting to know the Wayne's, spending time with Jason, and sneaking off with an unrepentant Damian.

Whenever Jason was around they kept their distance but were caught more than enough times.

"And you eat this?" Damian asked, bewildered at how anyone could consume something so unhealthy.

"Yes. It isn't that bad if you have it every once in a while. Sometimes the calories are worth it! Worth the satisfaction of indulgence." Damian scoffed from his seat on the counter opposite to Marinette, who was baking chocolate chip cookies.

"Why don't you help me? That way they're done sooner." Marinette offered, not realizing how disastrous the question was.

"I think it would be best if I didn't. Things tend to go wrong when me or my siblings attempt to do anything in the kitchen." Marinette giggled, she thought Damian was great. He was a good listener, funny, smart, and on top of that he was drop-dead-gorgeous. Marinette knew he wasn't just being friendly, no, he'd made his intentions perfectly clear when they first met but she didn't want to become a problem. Jason seemed to hate the idea, so she did her best to keep it friendly- unfortunately, Damian was persistent.

"It's just rolling the dough into balls, it's not even real cooking!" Marinette countered and Damian relented, getting up and watching her roll the dough before following suit.

At first, everything went suspiciously well. Damian did a good job rolling the dough and there was a period of comfortable silence, the problem with that was that it was too comfortable. Marinette began to hum, softly at first before it got a little louder. Damian didn't comment but eventually Marinette realized what she had done and blushed, her hands going to her head- accidentally getting flour on Damian's (NOT distracting) tight black turtleneck.

Marinette apologized repeatedly but noticed Damian was trying to smother his laughter.

"What? What is it?" The Parisian demanded, her accent thickening as she got more and more worried about what he was laughing at. As it turned out, the in her state of embarrassment she had not only dirtied Damian but also herself. She had cookie dough smeared across both cheeks. She blushed a deep red, making the cookie dough even more visible.

Eventually, Marinette moved past her embarrassment and spoke to a working Damian as he loaded the cookies in the oven.

"Oh Damian~" The boy turned, his eyes still amused.

"Ye-" Damian was cut off by a cloud of flour, she'd thrown the powdery substance at him as he turned. While blinded by the thick cloud of white Marinette was able to get close enough to get some cookie dough on his forehead.

"Oh it is on, little one, and I don't loose." They spent the next ten minutes throwing flour, extra dough, and water at each other, in a world of their own.

Reality didn't come crashing down on the teens until they saw the flash of a camera.

It was Tim and Stephanie.

Marinette blushed as she tried to dust the flour off herself, embarrassed that she'd made such a mess in someone else's home. Damian seemed to be torn between being amused at Marinette's embarrassment and trying to salvage what was left of his reputation.

"Jason's gonna lose it."

"Todd doesn't need to know."

"What's in it for us?" Stephanie countered, using her hand to lower Tim's hand as he tried to call Jason.

"Cookies?" Just as Marinette spoke the timer went off and she went to take the treats out of the oven. The warm chocolate-y smell filled the room as both Steph and Tim began to drool.

"Todd doesn't need to know?"

"Jason doesn't need to know." Tim seconded as Marinette fanned the cookies. When they were cool she handed them all the cookies on a plate. All but one that she negotiated for Damian to try.

Dick, Tim, Steph, Selina, even Bruce found it hilarious, they understood why Jason hated it, but they also saw that she brought out the best in Damian. It pissed Jason off, Marinette was off limits. Damian was frustrated because had Jason not been so annoying he'd have asked her out already, but watching the second robin get so riled up also made the chase that much more fun (not that Damian would even consider perusing her without her explicit encouragement).

Damian was taking Titus out for a walk on the grounds when he heard a familiar hum, he followed the high, sweet tune to the rose gardens where a small Parisian sat, sketching.

Marinette sat on a small bench for two, her hair in loose waves. She wore a black skirt that ended just above her knees and a deep red halter top with matching red flats. She looked stunning, surrounded by the vibrant rose bushes. He studied her for a moment more before making his presence known.

"What are you drawing?" Damian asked as he approached the girl. Marinette wasn't as jumpy as when they first met, getting used to his sudden appearances.

"A new design, a dress." Everyone knew she wanted to be a designer but no one knew she was MDC yet. Marinette convinced herself that was because it hadn't come up yet but in reality she was embarrassed. She'd heard Tim say they were his favorite designer and that if he ever met them he'd either fall in love (Stephanie slapped him across the head at that) or pass out.

Marinette didn't look up until Damian's shadow blocked the light. Marinette decided to tease him and ignore the boy in favor of his dog.

"Hello again, Titus! What a good boy, so cute!" She poured all her attention onto the animal who took it in stride. Damian didn't like being ignored but humored her, petting Titus.

"You like to design." It wasn't a question, Damian remembered what Grayson told him about conversation. He tried to find a relevant topic that would allow him to compliment her.

"May I see your sketch?" Damian asked, still paying attention to Titus. Marinette blushed as she quickly shut her sketchbook.

"Uh... hehe- maybe another day." Her logo was on the corner of each page and Marinette didn't want to risk it. Damian thought she looked adorable, blushing deeply, but he also thought it was uncalled for- he hadn't begun his teasing yet. This caught his attention and curiosity, he had to see the book.

"What? Why are you blushing?" Damian teased but he saw she was getting uncomfortable, he had done it in good fun but he saw he'd overstepped.

"Apologies- I'm sorry if I crossed a line I was just teasing, you don't have to show me- I didn't mean it." Damian was at a loss, he didn't think before he spoke and ended up stringing together apology after apology. Marinette giggled.

"It's okay, you don't have to blush!" Damian hadn't even noticed how hot his face was, this only embarrassed him further.

"Oh~ Do you need some tea? To calm the nerves?" Marinette teased, earning a half-assed glare from Damian, who was still trying to fight his blush. Finally, he got it under control. Despite the sidetrack Damian persisted, trying to start up another conversation just like Grayson told him to. He sat next to Marinette on the bench.

"The gardens are beautiful this time of year, are they not?" Damian offered. Marinette hummed in agreement, studying her surroundings before her eyes met Damian's.

"Breathtaking." Damian complimented, making Marinette blush heavily. Damian glanced at her full, pale rose lips, unconsciously licking his own. The Parisian seemed to notice and she tilted her head upward slightly, only slightly, with her eyes half-closed.

Damian summoned his courage and leaned in closer, they both closed their eyes. Just as they were about to close the gap, his hand was about to hold her check. Damian swore he felt her soft lips barely brush his when they heard Jason yell.

"AH! Get off her! NOPE NOPE NOPE!" Jason was a few meters away but both teens obeyed, embarrassed. Jason grabbed Marinette’s hand and quickly, but carefully, pulled his little sister away from Damian. "From now on, you two aren't allowed in the same room anymore. Except diner. Keep away from Nettie, Demon Brat."

Damian saw Jason's face, this wasn't just because he thought it was weird to see Damian try to date someone he saw as family- no, it was something else entirely. It was because he saw Marinette as too good, too pure for Damian.

Jason didn't want Marinette to be dragged into the mess that was Damian's life.

Jason didn't want Marinette to suffer because Damian didn't know how to deal with his emotions.

Jason didn't want Marinette to be hurt by Damian, he didn't want to see someone he loved hurt. It wasn't just because it was Damian, it was because he didn't want to see Marinette's heart get broken.

Damian, shockingly, backed off- hardly even acknowledging the girl on the few occasions they crossed paths. He wasn't outwardly rude like he was with his siblings but Marinette seemed to catch on. At first she was a little dejected but was adamant about keeping positive.

Jason spent as much time as possible with his little sister, making sure to watch movies, tour the city, and just hang out all the time. He also made sure that she got to know the rest of the family, except Damian. And the fourth robin let it happen, he kept to himself and let her spend time with everyone else.

And then family night reared it's ugly head.

Marinette was sitting with Alfred the Cat and Cass on the sofa, Jason on a chair near Marinette, waiting for everyone else to arrive for the movie.

The Parisian beamed when she met Kor'i and Mar'i, quickly bonding with both. Marinette was quickly dubbed Auntie Nettie by an Auntie Steph and Uncle Timmy. Dick was about to play the first movie when Kor'i spoke up.

"Where is the little D?"

"Yeah! Where's Uncle Dami?" A four year old Mar'i asked from her father's lap. Jason scoffed, he was about to speak when someone walked in.

"Has anyone seen Alfred the Cat?" Damian asked, before he saw Jason and Marinette. Damian was about to say never mind- noticing Alfred purring in Marinette's arms, but Mar'i beat him to it.

"Uncle Dami!" The half Tamaranian announced, jumping from the couch and flying into her uncle's arms. Marinette was quick to catch onto the families nightly activities and let them catch her talking to Tikki. Jason clearly wasn't happy, neither was Damian, but on the bright side they didn't have any secrets. Kor'i and Mar'i were briefly discussed but Marinette didn't pry.

"It's been forever, like a whole week! You have to come watch the movie with us, it's family night! You can sit next to Marinette! Isn't she pretty? And nice?" Mar'i chattered and waited for Damian to respond.

"Yes, she is very nice." Damian spoke as carried his niece to her father who gave him an encouraging smile before Damian sat between Marinette and Cass. Mar'i spoke up just before Dick could play the movie.

"And pretty! Right Uncle Dami? Isn't she really pretty? Like momma!" Kor'i gave her daughter a quick kiss on the cheek, distracting the girl from Damian and Marinette's panic- and Jason's low growl.

Dick played the movie and gently shushed his daughter, stopping her from asking Damian again. Telling her she did a good job and would get extra popcorn.

The movie was some children's story that Damian couldn't seem to pay attention to, all he could seem to think about was the Parisian next to him- cuddling Alfred the Cat with her knees practically tucked to her chest, her back to him.

Damian took notice of Marinette's drooping shoulders and yawns as the movie progressed, but he hadn't expected for her to suddenly turn and cuddle onto his side, grabbing his arm as she and Alfred slept. Jason clearly didn't like it but Marinette was immovable, sleeping peacefully against a tense Damian. The boy did everything in his power to not sink into the warm sofa and nap alongside her, exhausted. He fought his tired eyes as best he could but it was a losing battle.

Eventually the movie faded away, his head rested upon something soft.

Jason wanted to be mad, he wanted to move Marinette so she rested against him- she always used to as a little girl but he saw she was clinging to Damian, whether it was intentional or not. Jason knew Damian hadn't done anything to give Marinette reason to cuddle him, finally understanding that Jason just didn't want to see Marinette hurt. Unfortunately, neither could do anything about it.

Jason also knew he couldn't blame Damian for passing out, knowing as well as anyone that finals and patrol were a bad mix but that didn't mean he didn't want to slap him for passing out and unconsciously cuddling with Marinette.

Alfred the cat eventually woke from his nap and moved from his warm spot between the two teenagers and left the room to do only God knows what. The sudden lack of warmth seemed to stir both Marinette and Damian. The Parisian whined softly as she nuzzled closer to Damian, her legs ended up across his lap as they snuggled closer. Jason clenched his fists and jaw before bringing his attention back to the movie, trying to think of what to do.

By the time the movie ended, Jason was at a loss- at some point Cass left the room so Damian and Marinette were literally lying on each other, limbs entangled as they slept, blissfully unaware of their compromising position. Everyone softly laughed and took pictures of Damian sleeping and Marinette lying carefully on top of him, his arms wrapped around her with her head tucked under his chin. Their their legs tangled.

"Jay, I'm sorry but they're so cute together. And they really seem to like each other, I know it's weird for you but let them be." Dick tried, he'd been rooting for them since Damian started to ask about how to start a conversation, lines you don't cross, how to tell if a subject is off limits. The first robin prayed to whatever god was out there that his brother would finally see that their dating wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I know." Jason noticed Damian back off when he realized why Jason didn't want them to date, it wasn't just because Damian was an ass, if something ever happened to Damian- Marinette would be a mess and he couldn't stand to see the broken look in her eyes ever again. Jason knew it was a shitty reason, she'd probably be a mess no matter what, but he couldn't help it. He just wanted to protect Marinette. Jason finally knew what to do, but until then he'd let them sleep.

Jason walked out of the room, annoyed- the brat won. Damn their stubbornness. Hopefully it would make Damian more bearable...

Damian woke up with the sun, but for once wanted to stay in bed. He was warm, and a calming, steady breathing tried to lull him back to sleep- wait. Why would he feel someone else's breathing?

Damian's eyes snapped open and scanned the room, he was lying in the living room with a blanket on him and- 'No. No. No. Of all the times to pass out, of all the people-'

Damian's mind went into overdrive trying to remember how he'd gone from sitting with Marinette leaning on him to falling asleep with her. He knew he was dead, but suddenly his mind focused on the even sound of her breathing, she was still sleeping- dead to the world. There was no reason to wake her, so Damian closed his eyes, pulled Marinette closer, and allowed himself to go back to sleep. Enjoying his last moments in the land of the living.

Something made a noise, Damian opened his eyes again. This time Marinette awoke with him, propping herself up on his chest and rubbing her eyes with a tired yawn.

"Good morning." Marinette froze at the sound of Damian's deep, rough, sleep-filled voice as she took in a messy haired, tired Damian. She blushed, hard, morning Damian was officially her favorite Damian.

"D-Damian- w-what happe- did I- I'm so sorry!" Marinette sat up, not thinking about what she was doing. She continued to apologize while Damian panicked, if Jason walked in right now- he'd die for the second time. Breaking the family record, sure, but that certainly wouldn't be worth it. Well... No, not worth it- unless someone brought him back again... No, no, Todd would likely make it painful. Definitely not worth it.

"Marinette-"

"No, this is totally my fault! I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to fall asleep on you, you were probably really uncomfortable with me leaning on you like that!"

"Marinette really it's alri-"

"No, Damian! It's not alright, I- Jay probably got really mad at you, I'll- I'll talk to him make sure he knows it wasn't your fault."

"Marinette?" The Parisian seemed to be done with her ranting and was staring at Damian again, she for some reason, hadn't noticed earlier but Damian wasn't wearing a shirt. In Marinette's sleepy state she just stared unabashedly. Damian's voice seemed to get her attention.

"Perhaps you shouldn't sit like that..." Damian refused to call it what it was. Had he wanted to be more accurate, and he didn't, he would have asked her to stop straddling him.

Marinette froze, blushed, and then started whining in embarrassment. Her head in her hands. Damian was having a difficult time holding back his own blush but was managing alright.

"Marinette?" Damian asked, she peaked out from between her hands and realized she had yet to get off him, finally he sat up on his own and gently pushed her off him. They sat next to each other, Damian refused to look at Marinette in her beautifully flustered state.

Jason walked in with his arms crossed, he leaned against the door-frame.

"Awake are we?" He asked, not expecting an answer, he didn't get one.

"Well, Demon Spawn, let's just say your reputation is effectively ruined. Steph and Selina got more than enough pictures to get even you to blush." The two teenagers refused to look at Jason, he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his annoyance surface.

"I can't even-" Damian waited for the inevitable outburst, for once. " I can't believe I'm fucking doing this- You two were cute or whatever but word of the wise, brat- hurt her and I'll kill you. Got it?" Both teenagers heads snapped up, Marinette blushed. Damian nodded a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

'FINALLY' Was the only thing Damian thought in that moment before he began to plan how to ask her out. He needs to speak to Grayson again, unfortunately.

And with that, their banter and teases began again. This time there was no bribery to keep Damian's siblings quiet and no Jason to stop their kisses. The young couple went on dates, watched movies, laughed at the put off look Damian’s family would have when he said something awkwardly funny. Of course, Jason was still insistent on sibling bonding, stealing Marinette as often as possible- that became their new game: who could get Marinette for the day.

Of course, there were some close calls. Jason had walked in on Damian and Marinette kissing... for an extended period of time... he stood frozen and watched in horror as they made out on a chair in Damian's room, Marinette's hands in Damian's hair with his hands at her hips, keeping her pressed against him as her legs bracketed his hips.

Damian noticed Jason first, immediately pushing away and inwardly cursing. Marinette blushed furiously and had to stop Jason from killing Damian but her messy hair and slightly swollen lips didn't help.

Of course, everyone else thought it was hilarious.

As they say, all good things must come to an end. After three weeks of freedom from her class, their trip finally came to an end and so did Marinette's reunion. By the end of her stay Marinette knew why she'd be okay, from now on she had a family four times as big as before. The Parisian couldn't be happier: she reunited with her brother and has an adoring boyfriend. All she had to do now was survive the last few weeks of the school year before transferring to Mme Mandeleiev's class.

I’m gonna be okay, Marinette thought that to herself as they made their way to the airport. Damian didn't want her to leave, no one did, he held Marinette's hand while she spoke to Jason who promised to visit often.

Everyone hugged her goodbye or said so from a respectful distance before she passed through security and rejoined her class.Both Damian and Jason glared at the class in warning, they still seemed to be reeling from the discovery that the Italian was a liar. People called out to the girl, shouting apologies. Marinette just walked past as if she couldn’t hear a thing.

And then she was gone. Damian and Jason pouted, they already missed her, luckily summer was right around the corner. They'd get her to visit soon, or if they had to they'd go to Paris.

After all, family is supposed to stick together. And despite their attempts at denying it, they were clingy.

#Daminette #DamianWayne #JasonTodd #Jasonette #Maribat #Miraculous #MiraculousLadybug #AU #LittleSisterAU #Pt2 #DC #Robin #Ladybug #Batfam #Zagg #MarinetteDupain-Cheng #Corssover #Fanfic

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brave-clarice · 3 years

Text

“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 2

Again, some extremely unfashionably late hot takes.

(Special thanks to @kathrynethegreat and @special-agent-pendragon for encouraging another liveblog!)

Clarice is working out! And eating junk food! I love it.

and cleaning her gun!

hey, Ardelia is drinking what I’m going to assume is her grandmother’s “smart people tea”.

Krendler disciplining Clarice already is infuriating but appropriate.

“I lost control.” Oh no, I don’t like that. Don’t make Clarice unstable. Her mental and emotional state never had anything to do with her failing career.

getting weird mixed signals from Ardelia. Last week, she obviously didn’t want Clarice to lie/stick to the script Krendler gave her, but now she’s telling Clarice she messed up by not doing so...?

“I better know you if you’re calling this early.” Amen, Ardelia.

I’m in love: this cinematography is straight out of the film (when she’s flying to WV with Crawford)!

“When’s the last time you went back to Appalachia?” “It’s been years.” What??? It has NOT been years--Clarice was JUST in West Virginia last week as well as in Silence, and she arguably attended college there as well. (UVA is at least nestled in the mountains, and you don’t have to drive far outside the Albemarle Valley to hit Appalachia proper.) After all the details about her character they’ve been nailing, they miss this glaring error?

I like the tiny details she’s noticing (like the guy biting his nails). Not only because she’s an investigator, but because it’s reminiscent of Hannibal’s influence (imo).

Clarice Is Short: The Saga continues

still not getting any creepy vibes off Krendler. He’s going to be much less effective as an antagonist if he isn’t lewd as well as a dick.

I really don’t care for the way the opening “credits” fade out from the death’s-head moth to Clarice’s face. There are MANY animals that represent her, or parts of her, in the books--lions, lambs, horses, and of course birds--so this choice feels empty and lazy to me.

also lazy: having a fellow agent straight-up tell her in episode 2 “you shouldn’t be in the Bureau.” Maybe in two or three years, after some further “Death Angel”-type incidents, I could see this blatant rudeness, but not yet.

“Reesey”? Thanks, I hate it.

this flashback must be of Clarice’s little brother. That answers one question I had last week. That said...Clarice’s brother doesn’t play the same role in her story that Mischa does in Hannibal’s--but this sure feels like a Mischa-esque flashback.

good: they’re finally getting to the source of Clarice’s actual trauma!

bad: this is NOT how Clarice found out about her father. In fact, that whole incident is laid out in detail in the novels, and there’s nothing overly literary/un-cinematic about it, so this feels unnecessary. “The police are here! Something happened to Daddy!” No, bad! Show, don’t tell!

she would’ve known better than to introduce herself to that kid as “Clarice Starling, FBI,” come on now.

were they regularly able to wire tap hair clips in 1993?

actually, nothing in this show looks very 90s to me so far. I’m sad about it.

so in eighteen months, Ruth Martin has gone from a junior Senator to the Attorney freakin’ General, and now she might run for governor?? At least let her get settled in one position of power first, why don’t you!

yet more Buffalo Bill flashbacks...alas.

are they trying to make this guy another surrogate Hannibal character? He’s commenting on Clarice’s accent and the dryness of her skin, asking about who she “left behind”...it all feels very Hannibal. (I know he’s a Charismatic Cult Leader trope, too--but when played off of Clarice...)

“Ew.” “I hate this guy.” I laughed.

I understand that Clarice probably feels conflicted re: her siblings in the book, but I’m really not digging the flashbacks of this Tim Burton character her brother.

@ the writers: Clarice already has the lamb backstory/symbolism, too. We don’t need this Little Brother stuff.

*shrieking* Mrs. Starling! At the sink washing the blood out of his hat!!!

...aaand they had to ruin it with the brother’s painfully bad dialogue. Will still be good for gif-making, though.

are we supposed to interpret all these flashbacks as Clarice being incapable of controlling her emotions/state of mind? She keeps losing herself in memories and emerging all doe-eyed and panicky. I don’t like it.

not to be a broken record but...Clarice should be TOUGH. Again, Ardelia only saw her cry once in seven years. But she’s more worked up in this scene than Jodie was in Memphis!

when Mr. Cult Leader shouts “Agent Starling! Agent Starling!” he sounds exactly like Hannibal calling her back to his cell in the asylum. That has to be intentional.

damn, wish that I could look as good five minutes after I’ve been crying as Clarice does.

I LOVE that Ardelia gets to be the crucial behind-the-scenes book-smart partner to Clarice’s action heroine.

AG Martin’s just playing politics by turning a blind eye to the crooked sheriff. But when her own daughter was just kidnapped and almost killed, she looks like a real hypocrite.

gosh, Rebecca Breeds is great. I already hope she gets nominated for an Emmy.

so Krendler is...doing the right thing???

Clarice’s father was definitely not a sheriff. I hope she’s just exaggerating for dramatic effect. (Maybe this will be clarified later.)

she couldn’t just sit with a manipulative guy without getting emotional, but she’s cool as a cucumber while telling an extended story about her father? HmmMM.

sometimes her mannerisms and facial expressions are so much like Jodie’s that it’s uncanny, like here when she leans forward to confront the Cult Leader.

“She did it.” Damn straight!

another great callback to Silence. this show’s camera crew knows its stuff!

“He’s concerned I have some residual trauma from Bill.” I. Hate. This. Subplot--and all its OOC implications.

“Catherine was close to her father, too.” Ooh, a nice allusion to the novel! Clarice makes note of their “common wound,” the loss of a father, when she’s in Catherine’s apartment in Silence.

she is just SO pretty.

little Clarice looks a LOT like Rebecca Breeds. I hope we see some more of her.

The Good:

the continuing visual nods to the Silence film via cinematography

Mama Starling!!!

Clarice’s “The World Will Not Be This Way Within the Reach of my Arm” attitude, refusing to leave without helping the victims.

Ardelia Mapp coming in clutch!

Clarice being, generally, a badass

and using psychological tricks/mind games to pin the antagonist...that’s the woman who disarmed a monster with just a few words.

Rebecca Breed’s acting has been phenomenal so far.

I like Clarice’s haircut a lot better when worn down (though it’s not very practical for fieldwork, so we probably won’t see it much).

The Bad:

the continuing Buffalo Bill-related Trauma Subplot. Ugh.

all the flashbacks to Clarice’s brother (and the not-so-subtle suggestion that her brother is, symbolically, another lamb).

will the real Paul Krendler please come forward? this guy is so TAME.

the other agents’ hostility towards Clarice needs to be toned down slightly so that it can escalate. Otherwise, where’s the tension?

is this actually 1993? I’m not feeling it. Shouldn’t it have a little of that Season 1/2 X-Files aesthetic? Please give me more than once-an-episode references to pagers and fax machines!

that glaring Appalachia continuity error...it’s still bugging me.

I missed the overt Hannibal references, even though they’re not necessary to any part of this episode. A lady can dream!

Overall, I really liked this one despite my various issues with it. It started shakily but built to a great finish. The emphasis across both episodes on Clarice being in the FBI not just to “get out, get anywhere,” but out of a genuine desire to help victims has been wonderful. I just hope they don’t swerve too far into the “too traumatized and emotionally compromised to function” lane. It would be a disservice to Clarice’s character and to her journey (and would smack too much of “Hannibal really did prey on her weak mind/brainwash her”.

Things I’d still like to see: More of her personality. Her hobbies and interests. That she’s cleaning her gun is great! Now let’s see “Poison Oakley” practicing her sharpshooting skills. Or car shopping. Or clothes shopping to show off her “developing taste.” (Ardelia can come!) I’ll take literally anything. Give us more of Clarice’s sense of humor as well. She had some subtle funny moments in the pilot, and it’s nice to see Rebecca smile for a change.

And Krendler? Smear that man in grease! I appreciated a happy ending even though Clarice’s career is, as we know, already in a downward spiral--the last thing we want is for every episode to be a slog, especially when a good chunk of the audience hasn’t read the book and doesn’t know Clarice is doomed to fail in the Bureau.

However... Krendler’s not a “redemption arc” kind of character. Or even a “run-of-the-mill sexist asshole” character. This is a man who spent seven years systematically sabotaging a young woman’s career because a) he was jealous that she solved the Gumb case before him, and b) she wouldn’t fuck him. He was a Justice Department official working fist-in-glove with a serial child molester who was planning some of the heinous vigilante justice imaginable. THAT’S why his very gruesome end at Hannibal’s hands felt deserved--even Clarice thought so! In short, he needs to get nasty.

Anyway, thanks for coming to another long-overdue TedTalk. Fingers crossed that the next one will be more timely (aiming for Sunday night)!

#Clarice Starling #clarice #cbs clarice #rebecca breeds #once again I apologize for how late this is #and how long and somewhat ranty lol #please let me know if you want more ♥♥♥#media [cbs show]#char [clarice starling]

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typinggently · 4 years

Note

So what do you think Feral™ Bruce’s relationship with his kids would be like? Somewhere in my bones I feel that he’d have a better relationship with all of them than in canon, but I wonder what you think! Love your blog, btw!!!

Hello Love!!! Thank you so much for your message! 🥰🧡🧡

I took some time to reflect on this and really think it through, since there are two problems: 1) I only really know about the “fandom favourites”, as in Dick (who I know most about since I used to read the 50s comics as a kid), Jason, Tim, Damian. And thus I felt a little unqualified since I know so little about the girls etc.

2) Rob is 33, which means the Robins would all have to be VERY young. Realistically, I guess, we could assume timeline-wise Jason would’ve died not too long ago? But I’m just going to ignore realism. So, without further ado

Feral Bruce and his Robins

Dick: Bruce adopting Dick makes sense to me, since the grief over his own lost family is so fresh in his mind. He’d lay eyes on this heartbroken child and immediately jump into action. However, due to his age and personality, this wouldn’t have a TRACE of a father/son relationship. Not even close. They’re chaos siblings, with Bruce as the messy rat and Dick as the adoring golden boy. He’s super proud of his older bro and tells others about how cool he is, which everyone 100% buys because it’s Bruce Wayne, of course he’s super cool. They don’t know that Dick’s definition of cool is “he slipped on his own 3 hour old puddle of sprite and did a funny backflip”. Now - as they grow older: I say they’re rather close due to their shared history(&shared grief), and they’re in a way rather similar. Similar fighting styles (both acrobats and very graceful, while Dick is more of a show-off while Bruce is more erratic), similar sense of humour and taste in films etc. I also think they don’t have a dramatic falling out, Dick just fucks off. Bruce is definitely sad about it, but I think he respects Dick’s need for personal growth since he himself isn’t exactly an overbearing cuddly person and most likely shut himself away for a few days at a time in the past. Idk. I think they get each other really well. So yeah, their relationship is def better!!

Jason: Bruce sees a kid trying to hotwire the batmobile and recognises a kindred spirit. Jason pros - he has a lot of that chaotic energy Bruce has. Jason cons - he lacks the grace and self-control. In general, I feel like pre-Joker Jason and Bruce had a rather good relationship as well. Once again not really that father figure thing, though. But Bruce moved up from”chaotic older brother” to “cool older brother” - since he now has a bit of a grip on how to treat teenagers, even though Jason doesn’t take to his rules as well as Dick did (I see many a person interpret Bruce as kind of lenient and clueless, letting the kids run wild and free, and while I agree with the base levels of that, I’m p sure that Bruce in any version is so built on self-control, that he’d impose that on others as well. Strict meal plans, exercises, etc). Jason’s death is a thing I really don’t know how to handle, because Bruce has such a thin skin. Frankly, I don’t know how he’d survive something like that. Grief is terrible and heart-breaking, and I’m not sure how well-equipped Bruce would be. It’s a very, very dark time. Red Hood is another thing. Bruce can barely fight Harvey, so I don’t see how he’d manage to interact with Jason. I honestly think he’d completely pull back from him. I don’t know how they’d heal from that and I’m not sure how Bruce would deal with the core of Jason’s anger. Fighting him is one thing (which he absolutely cannot do), but understanding him and trying to mend what’s broken is another. Very difficult. Very heartbreaking.

Tim: that would just be a mess. There aren’t any real descriptions of Batman, because his contact with civilians/the GPD is minimal and can you trust villains? They say his fighting style is erratic, but can you trust them? Can you believe Riddler, madly gnawing on his hat, when he tells you Batman threw a comically large plush bat at him and then bonked him over the head with a “bat-knocker”?! What I’m saying: Tim figures the “I love the Ritz. I just wish they had soda-fountains. They have the room and people would love it. A fountain of sparkling-cool orange soda in the hall, catching the light and making those nice ambient sounds. That would be glam. What was the question?” - act is an act, but he’s not at all prepared for the actual Feral Bruce Experience™️. He drops himself off on Bruce’s doorstep and holds his whole “I know who you are” speech until Bruce opens the door and the guy is wearing a kilt and a “world’s #1 Bat” shirt, drinking hot beetroot juice and greets him by saying “how the fuck did you get past the sprinklers?” In short - Tim didn’t expect to be the responsible one here. In general, I feel like they’d get along well, still, considering Bruce is so enthusiastic about learning and bettering himself. However, I do feel like his erratic rat-nature would clash with Tim now and then.

Damian: Bruce’s first instinct after hearing he’s a father is to learn how to raise a baby, so he panically throws together a huge pile of Infant Care books from the library, Damian (10+) standing right next to him. That said, he’s very concerned about being a good father figure and raising Damian right. He loves the other boys, of course, but he never really saw himself as their father. This is a new situation for him and he doesn’t feel like he’s up for it. So now he tries to be a good influence, which results in him knocking on their doors at 1:30am all “remember not to drink coffee past midnight!” while holding a pitcher with Earl Grey.

Which brings me to the end note: Bruce is actually a great influence, he’s just not aware of it. He enforces healthy eating habits and a strict exercise routine. He’s got great posture and reminds his boys to sit/walk straight and stretch. He’s very cultured and studious in a very un-pretentious way, setting a great example for the boys.

But most importantly - he’s so true to himself in such an unapologetic way that everyone else feels free and encouraged to be themselves, too. While his eccentric behaviour could be interpreted as self-centred narcissism, he makes it extremely clear that he cares greatly about each and every one of them. He’s incredibly compassionate and they all know that he loves them dearly.

They all learn a lot from him when he’s not looking, and whenever he notices some little piece of evidence for just how much he’s influencing them, he turns into a mess, eating carrot sticks in the kitchen at 2am with big teary eyes while Alfred makes him tea. (Alfred is the real father figure, of course, but he’s insanely proud of Bruce for handling his responsibilities so well and doing so good with his flock of Robins)

I’m very, very soft. Bruce deserves the world. He loves his family a lot, even though he seems to take them for granted or forget about them at times. And they love him, too, although he’s a bit strange.

(So, to make it short: they DO have a great relationship. Just a tiny bit rocky at times, but I feel like this Bruce is less emotionally repressed and thus a lot of issues would fall flat? They know he cares)

#feral bruce hours #DC #im soft soft SOFT

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squiddybeifong · 5 years

Text

Bonding

Day 5 of RobRae Week 2019:

Raven squeaked and fumbled around for his hand, some of the tension in her shoulders falling away as Dick’s palm slid against hers. Her amethyst eyes were wide and while she'd never actually admit to being overwhelmed, she was not too proud to concede that she may have been in a bit over her head.

And why wouldn't she be? She was surrounded by Bats: Cass and Steph had a cheek on each shoulder, Duke was aiming her a sympathetic smile an arm’s length away, Damian was in her face and all but interrogating her (if not for Dick’s and Duke’s hands pushed over his mouth, muffling the little bird’s words the best he could), Jason had silently nodded at her from his spot perched against the BatJet, Tim was praising her choice of tea (“That kind has a lot of caffeine in it for tea. It’s not coffee but good enough!”), Babs had given her an encouraging thumbs up but elected to watch the circus show alongside Jason, and Alfred had a plate of her favorite snickerdoodles in his arms, looking amused at all that was going on.

Bruce was just kinda there, but she knew he was watching her carefully. He still must not have been over his “no-metas” argument from when his oldest had brought home Kory that one time. But, for good or not, Dick had rubbed off on the mystic and she was hopeful that the dark knight would at least be open to getting to know her.

Especially since she fit into the family aesthetic so well.

Dick wrapped an arm around her shoulders, laughing as he shooed his siblings away, “Give us some space!”

He was positively cheeky at how excited everyone was to meet the love of his life, Don’t worry, we’ll all get used to each other soon. Become best friends and all that; especially you, Lil D.”

The swordsman’s nose scrunched up at his assertion, “You’re sure about that?”

“You’re the current Robin,” He stressed. Raven rolled her eyes as he declared, “Birds of a feather no matter what. Y’all just need some quality bonding time and bam!” Dick kissed her cheek, “Best buds in no time.”

“She’s a civilian.” He seemed unimpressed, but Dick told her enough about the kid to know how to get through to him, “I can still train.”

“Hmm,” Damian narrowed his eyes at her. His arms crossed, pleased with the idea. “After lunch sparring then?”

“Maybe tomorrow morning?” Raven fought back a smile at the frown that curled immediately the boy’s lips. He was definitely Batman’s son, that was for sure. The mystic shrugged a shoulder, her fingers brushing Dick’s again as she explained, “The trip here was a bit long.”

The boy let out a “Tch” but nodded, squawking as Steph shoved him out of the way. The blonde was excited, “But you still have time for doing stuff today, right?” She whipped her head from Raven to Cass and back again, “We really wanted to get to know you more. And not just like, as Dick’s girlfriend.”

“Oh?” Raven obviously didn’t quite get it so Cass spoke up, “You’re very… powerful. Well-known and…” The girl paused, trying to think of the word. Giving up, she jerked a thumb towards Steph, her smile obvious in her voice, “She has your posters.”

“Hey!” The blonde flushed, snapping her head back to the demoness, “Poster. I just have the one, actually.”

Raven sheepishly smiled, her eyes flicking to her boyfriend in astonishment, “I have my own poster?”

“Pssh,” Dick kissed her temple, “Of course. Why wouldn’t you have a fan-base?”

“And you know her best,” Steph mused aloud, a hand going to her chin. “That means you can help me impress her!”

“She’s literally standing right here.”

Luckily Raven looked amused and a tinge abashed at the attention, so Steph added, “But if we’re gonna spend time together, that means we should probably make it count. Do stuff we both-- all three of us like, right?”

Steph looked so excited at the prospect and kept glancing Cass’ way; while the Black Bat wasn’t as visibly antsy Raven could tell she was hopeful. Amethyst eyes glanced around the room, lingering on Duke as she aimed a soft smile his way, “I’ll have to find time to spend with all of you, but that sounds fun.”

She glanced over Steph’s head and smirked at the redhead, “We can invite Babs. Make it a girls’ night.” A not quite squeak slipped out and Dick let out a yelp as she grabbed his arm, leading him towards the controls. “We need to plan everything!”

Dick conceded with her tugging on his arm, wagging his fingers and blowing a kiss to the empath as he was pulled along. And with the acrobat no longer by her side there was another clamor for her attention. She appeased them the best she could; however, Tim was the quietest of the group (unsurprising, given that even Cass’ occasional signing was almost as loud as her siblings words) and Raven chose to follow his lead out of the BatCave.

She gave Duke and Cass a sympathetic wave as she heard the tail end of Damian’s instructions to them, deciding not to question why the youngest Bat felt it necessary to bring out the training flamethrowers for their sparring.

“Don’t mind Dami,” Raven glanced to the side and felt her smile widen at the sight of Barbara. She and Jason were the only Bats Raven had a chance to meet the first time she’d been invited to Gotham, way before romance was even an option between her and Dick. And now the redhead looked thoroughly entertained at all that had happened (and was bound to happen, given this family’s track sheet) as she wheeled alongside Raven, her olive eyes glancing at Tim. “You know about coffee?”

Raven shrugged, “Dick tries to get me to try it sometimes.”

“You’re about to get an… education.”

“On the necessity of caffeine?”

“On how insane Tim can get.” Babs’ grin was entirely cheeky as she admitted, “Jason used up the rest of the beans and didn’t refill them, so he was waiting until after you showed up to get as caffeinated as possible.”

“Should I say ‘oh no,’ or is this somehow gonna turn out okay?”

The lens of Babs’ glasses shone as they entered the kitchen, seeing that Tim had already made his way to the coffee pot in the two second lead that he had on them. “You should say ‘oh no.’”

“So, Raven…” Tim spread his arms and spun in a circle, a sleepy grin brightening his face, “You like your coffee with one sugar to two?”

Ignoring the look that Oracle sent her way, the demoness decided to be honest, “I’ve never had a full cup before.”

Babs palmed her face and wheeled back a few feet.

Raven blinked as, seemingly a second later, she was the sole audience to real life TED talk. Her head tilted to the side as she was introduced to a whirlwind of teas and coffees with Tim, trying her hardest not to smile as he walked her through how to roast the beans just enough to get all the caffeine out of them possible, taste be damned. The boy was oddly engaged and, admittedly, the topic was interesting (if a bit unexpected). Alfred’s kitchen also apparently had twenty hidden drawers just for coffee enhancements, but they would absolutely remodel to get Raven her own tea drawers ‘if she ever decided to move in.’

Her pale cheeks flushed at that, the heat burning down to her neck as Babs piped up, “Might as well start the renovations now, if Dick’s letting her fend for herself with us.”

Tim snickered at that, pointing out to his brother’s girlfriend a second later, “But you know what’s best for keeping sane in this house?”

“A cup of tea?”

He stuck his tongue out at Raven’s cheekiness and strode to the fridge. Tim pulled out a can and shook it, energy shining beyond his lethargic eyes, “A shot of coffee. Whipped cream on top.”

“A shot? Seems like coffee’s something I need to take down as fast as possible.”

“He’s actually done that before,” Babs casually added into the air.

There was a pause as Raven leaned it, squinting at the sleep-deprived teen. She wondered when the last time he had a proper night’s sleep was, but immediately tossed the thought out, lest she actually find out. Still, the mage had to know, “How long until you take in too much caffeine?”

“I know you’re just coming into the fam, but Raven,” Tim held up his coffee and sprayed a burst of whipped cream into his mouth, “Too much caffeine isn’t even an issue when it comes to me.”

Her head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “This seems dangerous.”

Babs let out a snort, “Yep.”

“And unwise.”

“That’s the idea.”

Amethyst eyes flicked to Tim and she decided that if she was in their house she might as well act like a Bat. Her arms crossed over her chest, her words resolute, “You can’t knock down a day’s worth of coffee in less than ten minutes.”

Babs let out a sigh but Tim looked excited. He winked at his undoubtedly future sister, speaking one word before tossing back the near scalding coffee, “Bet.”

Raven blinked, not sure whether to be alarmed or impressed at how he merely took another burst of whipped cream and went onto the next steaming cup. Briefly, she thought that Dick probably wouldn’t be too enthused that she wasn’t necessarily stopping him from doing this. But, if she was being completely honest, she was truly enjoying whatever this mess of her afternoon had become.

Although she did jump when Barbara nudged her side.

The redhead noted the tiniest crackle of magic on the girl’s fingertips and her face softened, remembering what Raven had told her of her powers when they’d first met. “You know,” She muttered, her brows inching up as Tim decided to simply down the whipped cream and coffee simultaneously.

Green eyes flicked to the mystic, “I’m surprised you haven’t needed to meditate yet.”

Raven shrugged one shoulder, “I rested on the way here.”

“Yeah, but we’re kinda a handful, empathy or not.” Another glance at Tim, who had somehow brought Alfred into his experiment. Babs tried to hold back a chuckle before she added, “We also brood a lot. I’m sure no one would hold it against you if you needed to chill out for a bit.” She gave Raven a knowing smile at the younger woman’s shifting, both of them knowing that she was right.

“Now that I think about,” Babs’ voice was teasing but a calm in the chaos that was Alfred silently tut-tutting as he watched Tim down coffee at a speed that shouldn’t have been possible, “There’s a little nook near the cave’s entrance. You know that carved mouse hole, like in the cartoons? It’s where Dick almost broke his arm trapezing over the statues?”

At the demoness’ nod Babs added, “It’s probably quiet enough for you to sneak in and out of if you want. I’d take you but we really don’t need Tim being too hyped up this early.” Her head tilted in thought and she pushed up her glasses, “Jay’s usually there whenever he visits the manor, though.”

She grinned at the empath, “But you two get along pretty well. And you can tell you’re there if you see ash piles around.”

Raven’s lips twitched in a smirk, “You’re really telling me to follow the breadcrumbs?”

“More like the cigarette butts. Besides, it’s peaceful and we left him in charge of keeping Damian from interrogating you. You’ll be fine and probably--maybe alone.” Babs touched her arm and Raven smiled back, feeling closer to the redhead since the last time they’d met. And, if her smile was any indication, Babs felt the same.

A lazy laugh escaped her as she turned her wheels, ready to stop Tim from his ongoing lecture that Alfred was almost certainly tuning out, “I’ll save you a spot at the table.”

“See you at lunch, then.” Raven wondered if this was what having siblings was like and nodded once, turning towards the door before Babs could even begin to guess what she was thinking about.

She knew that Batman wasn’t a fan of superpowers in his city, let alone his manor, but she still let herself fall into the shadows, quietly making her way to to place Barbara had guided her to. Her heart light, Raven wondered if Dick was right to be so hopeful on the way up here; so far things were going well. She was actually bonding with others, as insane as it was to imagine. Her thoughts and movements faltered as she passed by some of the artwork and busts that lined the halls, wondering if her lover knew their origins.

Oh, well. She had a whole weekend to find out, maybe longer if Batman somehow took a liking to her as much as his children had.

Raven shook her head and stopped, reorienting herself before she got lost. Slipping through a crack under the door the mage blinked at the tiny pile of ashes just inside. She felt his presence before he noticed hers and let her body manifest again.

Jason didn’t pause his smoking as she walked up to him, simply putting down his phone and nodding at her. His lips split in a grin as she let out a sigh and she collapsed into the seat next to him. He nudged her with his shoulder, snickering at the scent of coffee that wafted off her, “You let Tim explain his coffees to you?”

“We made a bet and he actually started drinking all of them.”

Jason let out a noisy breath, not quite a laugh and not quite a sigh, “You’re more patient than me.”

“That’s a given.”

“And you’re finally letting some of that snark out! Look like you’re getting along pretty fine here.”

A curl of magic wordlessly put out his cigarette. Jason leaned his head back, a resound laugh rumbling out of him at her antics, “Basically a Bat already.”

His turned to look down at her when all she did was snort at his words, his smile secretive. Jason nudged her again, “Although we gotta wait til Dickolas gets the balls to ask you to make it official.”

Raven gave him a flat look, although the stare was weakened by the curl in her lips. She turned away from him and decided to pivot the conversation to a more expected route, “I thought you would’ve been trying to tell me embarrassing stories of him, maybe even bring out a video or three.”

“That’s not until he brings you over for Chrismukkah.”

She snickered, resting her arm on the couch’s back. Her violet gaze looked him over once, “And what about you willingly babysitting Damian like Babs said you were supposed to be doing?”

He smirked at her choice of words, “That’s not happening until Hell freezes over.”

Another pointed look, this time interrupted by the mage’s snickers. “Although,” Jason looked her over once, surprised and appraising that she was keeping a calm head in this midst of meeting this clusterfuck of a family, “I kinda thought B'd've run you off by now.”

“B'd've?” She snorted at the contraction, one brow rising in question a second later, “Is B for Bruce or Batman or…?” She let her words trail off at the new press of emotions around her. The empath didn’t acknowledge the shift as Jason’s gaze landed on something just beyond her shoulder, but she had a good enough idea when a cocky smirk lit up his face.

“B is for Bitch.”

He looked up as he spoke, grinning at his adoptive father as the man approached them.

Bruce aimed a pointed look Jason's way, his attention settling on the demoness right after. Raven sat up straighter but didn't speak, electing to simply observe him and the subdued emotions that he carried. Jason watched their stare off for a moment, a fist pressed into his cheek in mock-curiosity.

“Quite a party,” He drawled, snickering at the two sideways glares he received. The anti-hero shrugged and bounced up to his feet, not wanting to endure the thrilling conversation they were bound to have. He aimed an emerald wink Raven’s way and nudged his dad in the arm as he passed.

A calloused hand waved over his shoulder, “Later, you two. Have fun with whatever the fuck this is!”

Raven gaze flicked from his retreating back to Bruce’s face, not knowing what to say. But the Batman seemed busy with observing her, trying to determine exactly how much he could possibly trust her. So she decided to do the same, wondering how they could get along. They certainly seemed similar enough, if Dick’s opinion was anything to go by (and she trusted his opinion with everything in her).

After a minute Bruce broke the silence, his hands going to his pockets, “Glad to see you're getting along with everyone.”

Pale fingers drummed against her thigh, “No ‘else’ at the end?”

His chin twitched and a sigh escaped, Alfred’s earlier words echoing in his mind. The billionaire shrugged a shoulder and he got on with it, “Dick loves you so I might as well get to know you.”

“That’s almost sweet.”

“I still don't trust you whatsoever.”

Her lips moved from a straight line to a half-smile, “That’s not as sweet, but very obvious.”

“But,” Batman paused, deciding to be completely honest with this girl, “I didn't trust a lot of my allies at first either. And if you may be,” He all but grunted out the word, “Family… then I'll try.”

Raven bit back a hum at his words (and Barbara’s, and Tim’s, and Jason’s), wondering if Dick was introducing her like this for a reason. But this was an opportunity she refused to waste and she nodded at him, “So will I.”

The demoness paused and stood, tucking some loose hair behind her ear. Her face raised to meet him and she spoke, “I don't expect us to start over. I know that this distrust will be there for a while but I was hoping--” Raven cut herself off, shaking her head as her voice faltered.

Visibly making up her mind, the ex-Titan squared her shoulders and held out her hand. She looked into the dark knight’s eyes as steadily as she could, “I'm Rachel, although I prefer to go by Raven.”

He stared at her for a long second, then grabbed her hand. They shook and he introduced himself, “I'm Bruce, I prefer being called Batman.” Raven was stoic despite the wave of disappointment that filled her and he rolled his jaw, “But you can call me B. Most of my kids do anyway.”

She let out a tiny breath at the intent behind his words and a genuine smile formed. “It’s very nice to meet you B,” Raven’s hands clasped in front of her stomach, her thumbs rubbing against each other, “I'm in love with your son.”

“I can tell.” The closest thing to a smile curled his lips, “He's desperately in love with you too.”

“Yeah?”

Bruce shrugged again, but this time there was some humor in his stance. “He all but threatened us to do our best to make you feel included this weekend.”

A quiet laugh escaped her, “Did he really?”

“His exact words were ‘Please try and make her happy.’ We may have taken some liberties.”

The empath’s shoulders shook again and she decided to be bold, “Well, I'd think a tour of the manor would make me quite happy. Some of those paintings in the eastern wing are new and possibly Baroque.”

“Hmmm,” His sapphire eyes glanced down at her, “You haven’t been here since Tim was Robin, right?” She nodded, knowing that his words weren’t a question. Bruce aimed his chin towards where the kitchen lay and continued, “Alfred would probably prefer taking you around, but I have an hour or so to spare.”

“And here Dick had me thinking you were a workaholic.”

A brow raised and (honest to Azar) the Batman looked amused, “Just Dick?”

Raven bit the inside of her cheek, keeping her smile from getting too wide, “Maybe a few others too.”

“Well, then,” He motioned for her to follow him and they strolled out into the hallways, “Let’s get going.”

They fell into an easy silence (well not easy, but easy enough for someone being accompanied by Batman) as they walked the halls, their steps slowing every corner or so for Raven to admire some of the art and for Bruce to offer some details. After a few minutes the mage blinked as she recognized the doorway to the kitchen and they passed through, spotting a certain acrobat.

Bruce merely tilted his head and Raven gave him a small wave, the stoics not stopping their tour as they went. As the vigilante paused to explain one of the mustachioed busts she had hesitated at earlier, Raven quietly murmured into the air, “Did you see his face?”

“He looked very happy. Usually I only see that when he’s talking about you.”

Raven smiled at that. “I’d imagine us getting along certainly helps too,” she added.

Bruce glanced at her, neither acknowledging the positive press of his emotions. The dark knight motioned around them as they entered the foyer, “So would you like to see the library or courtyard first?”

“Courtyard, please.”

Dick had brought her here on a few occasions, although Bruce only knew about the first time. Most of the times they’d snuck in for her to get a sight of the sheer amount of literature that the Wayne family had collected over the years. The library was still that wonderful mix of clean rain and old books and the shelves were as pristine as ever, but Raven was still as awestruck as the first time.

Bruce laid a hand on her shoulder, “Alfred was talking about preparing your favorites for lunch. I’ll go check up on him and send Dick your way if I see him.”

“Thank you, Bru- I mean, B.” She let out a quiet chuckle at her mess-up, “I’ll get used to it eventually.”

He raised a brow, his face a bit more open than before. Raven tried to keep the hope out of her face but she knew that he noticed. The vigilante nodded to her once, “I hope so.”

She tucked her head and, after a beat, he turned on his heel and snuck out of the library, moving in the shadows. The mystic’s attention immediately went back to the bookshelves, so she didn’t notice as he hesitated to glance one more time at her, missing the approving (albeit reluctant) nod to himself.

Finally alone, Raven let herself get lost in the novels and indexes around her. She let out a soft “Aha!” as she spotted a huge collection of first editions, carefully tucked away on a raised platform of their own.

After what felt like seconds (though, knowing her, could’ve been hours), Raven felt a wonderfully familiar aura burst into her senses. She felt the uptick of happiness through their bond before Dick softly called out to her, “There you are.”

The mystic turned to face him, her nose still in her book. “Seems like you’re having fun,” He laughed, winking at her when she glanced at him from the top of the page.

“I am.” Raven completely tore her eyes from the pages, leaning up as he pressed a kiss to her temple. Whether it was the smell of him all around her or just the calm that he brought after all the emotions of meeting his family, the empath let out a happy sigh. She sunk into his arms and the words slid out of her, “I love it here.”

Dick rested their foreheads together, his smile bright in his voice, “You do love your libraries.”

Raven’s eyes slid halfway shut, a soft smile forming, “Not what I meant.”

“Yeah?”

She sighed as he bumped their noses together. The mystic flew up an inch to quietly murmur against his lips, her words a breath between them, “Yeah.”

#robrae week 2019 #robraeweek2019 #dickrae #batfam #my writing #raven #dick grayson #barbara gordon #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #rae n batfam bonding is my l i f e #it's 2 am and im done!! into the queue babey #im absolutely tim rn just... i need so much caffeine #this is not at all as finished as i want it to be #and has basically no editing #but it's here and im okay enough with it #but also #like how much of this is me trying and failing to not make these convos sound like every type of robrae possible #but i know im never gonna come back to it after this week is over sooo #so straight up tomorrow will be part 2 #with the rest of the batfam obvs #but training is like 10% done so like.. maybe i'll just post both on saturday??#we'll see. but im finishing up the rest of this week dammit #yknow two weeks ago i was certain i wasn't gonna do today or tomorrow's prompts but like.. it m u s t be done #im gonna do this all last minute but it's gonna be done!!!#i wanna finish everything by tomorrow night but whoooo boy that's gonna be a challenge

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navpike · 5 years

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cry out what you need to: chapter 2

“Okay, so, you know my partner, Amy Rohrbach? She died, on Sunday. And she had a daughter. She’s five years old and she had no other family and they were going to put her in the system and I just felt so--” “Dick, did you adopt the kid?” “I adopted the kid.”

Or, the one where Dick adopts a child, learns to balance parenting and superheroing, and falls in love, not necessarily in that order.

Chapter Two: pulling your last thread [on ao3]

Friday rolls around faster than Dick expected it too. For all that Thursday seemed to drag, it seems like it passed far too quickly at the same time.

Rona seems to be settling in to living with him fairly well, though she’s still having trouble sleeping at night. Wednesday night, after the funeral, Rona hadn’t been ready to sleep even after Dick had read through three different books with her. Every time he’d gone to leave, she’d panic and her lip would tremble like she was going to cry. Finally, Dick, utterly exhausted from the day, had come up with an idea. He’d darted back to his room and come back with a battered stuffed elephant that hadn’t left his side since he was a child.

“This is Zitka the Elephant,” Dick had told Rona in a soft voice. “Do you remember when your mommy told you that I grew up in a circus?”

“It was just a joke,” Rona had said, her nose wrinkling in disbelief.

“But it wasn’t!” Dick had replied in his best storytelling voice. “I grew up in a circus until I was ten years old, and my mommy and daddy and I used to fly! We’d go sailing through the air, but we would never fall, because we were the best at what we did. The best trapeze artists ever! The Flying Graysons! And when I was in the circus, there was an elephant, and her name was Zitka, and she was my best friend in the whole world. When I was about your age, I got this little stuffed version of Zitka, so she could be with me even when I wasn’t around her. She was always there to look out for me. But I’m big and grown up now, so I’m a little better at looking out for myself. Maybe, Zitka can hang out with you and look out for you for a little while, instead? She’s real good at keeping away all the spooky things at night.”

Rona had nodded, a little reluctantly, and taken the stuffed elephant, and when Dick had gone to leave that time, she’d let him go without complaint, but that didn’t stop her from waking up with nightmares that night and the next. This whole parenting thing is turning out to be just as tiring as being Nightwing is.

Which is why late Friday morning has him yawning as he drives through midday Gotham traffic, hoping that Alfred will make him a strong cup of coffee when they get to the manor. Maybe he can dip into the stash of really strong stuff that Tim keeps around for when he’s pulling an all nighter or two. He’s sure Tim won’t mind.

Rona’s quiet the whole ride there, up until they reach the manor grounds.

“Hey, Dick, is this a palace?” she asks, squishing her face up against the window, her expression morphing into something like awe.

“It’s not a palace,” he says through another yawn. “This is Wayne Manor. This is where I grew up after I left the circus.”

“So your parents live here? You’re like a prince!”

Dick laughs. “I only have a dad, and an Alfred. Alfred kinda like my grandpa. You’ll like him. He makes the best cookies and hot chocolate. I bet if you ask him really nicely, he’ll make you some today.”

“Hey if you’re a prince, does that mean that your dad’s a king?”

“I’m not a prince. It’s not a castle. Just a big old house,” he says, and Rona crosses her arms and pouts.

“That’s not as fun.”

“There’s still a couple suits of armor in the hallways. I’ll show them to you if you’re good.”

Rona’s face lights up. “Really? That’s so cool! This place is definitely a castle!”

Dick shakes his head a little exasperatedly, and a lot fondly. This is that happiest Rona’s looked all week. He can indulge this. “You’re right, kiddo. It’s kinda like a castle.”

“Then you’re definitely a prince.”

He stops the car at the end of the manor’s long driveway, and notes the car parked next to him, and then Rona gets tangled in her seatbelt and he’s distracted by needing to help her out.

Alfred answers the door before they even need to knock.

“Ah, Master Dick, and this must be the lovely Miss Rona,” he greets as he ushers them inside. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young miss.”

“Hi Alf. Rona this is Alfred. I told you about him in the car.”

“You make the cookies!” Rona exclaims, and Dick smacks a palm to his forehead.

Alfred chuckles. “I do, indeed. In fact, I’ve got a batch fresh from the oven. I’m sure a taste of one won’t spoil your lunch.” He gives Dick a look, and even without it, he would have gotten that something was up. Alfred never allows sweets before a meal.

“I trust your judgement.”

“I know you do, my boy. I’ll take Miss Rona down to the kitchen, if she’s alright with that.” Rona nods, enthusiastically. “Master Dick, you’ll find your father and your brother and sister in the den. We’ll be there shortly.”

Ah. That’s it. Jason and Cass are home from Star City early.

Shit.

Well, at least Damian and Tim aren’t there, so there’s no one for anyone to start fights with. Jason and Cass are a fairly tame pair of siblings, when they need to be. This’ll be fine.

He hopes.

Jason and Cass are in the den with Bruce as Alfred said, and Jason wastes no time commenting on how tired Dick looks.

“You look like shit, dude.”

“Language,” Bruce chastises half-heartedly. Jason plows right through that.

“And what are you doing here? Don’t you have a real job to be doing?”

Dick slumps into an armchair and lets out a long groan.

“Being a parent is hard, Bruce, why did you decide to do it five times?”

Jason chokes on a sip of water, and nearly spews it all over the room.

“Excuse me?”

Dick sits up very abruptly.

Cass and Jason are both staring at him with wide eyes, and Bruce is very obviously enjoying this. It occurs to Dick then that maybe he should have eased his siblings into this a little better.

He flaps his mouth like a fish for a second, trying to figure out how best to explain this, before Bruce takes pity on him.

“Dick has taken it upon himself to adopt a child.”

Okay, maybe he doesn’t take that much pity on him. Maybe he’s just trying to make things worse for Dick, because he’s just like that.

Cass furrows her eyebrows, and signs What?

Jason voices the same sentiment.

Dick sighs and covers his face with his hands. “My partner was killed in the line of duty last weekend. Her kid was gonna go into the system and I just couldn’t let that happen. I already had my foster license, and she already knew me, and I just thought it’d be best for her, instead of being tossed into some random foster home. So I adopted her. Or a judge awarded me custody of her. I have to talk to her and file paperwork and-- that’s not the point. Point is, she’s my kid now, for all intents and purposes.”

Jason’s eyebrows creep towards his hairline.

Cass breaks out in a grin, and signs, Can we meet our niece?

Dick lets out a breath he wasn’t really aware he was holding. He knew, logically, that none of his siblings would reject Rona. She’s just like all of them, after all. But there was still a lingering fear that something would go wrong. He supposes he’s just been a little stressed out lately.

“She’s in the kitchen with Alfred. They’ll be up soon.”

As if on cue, as soon as Dick says that, Alfred steps into the den, Rona clutching his hand, half a cookie in the other. She’s standing half behind Alfred, like she’s nervous about all the people in the room, so Dick stands and crosses the room to her.

“Is it cool if I pick you up, kid?” he asks, and she nods once, and shoves the rest of the cookie into her mouth, and lets Dick pick her up and carry her to a couch with room for them both. She tucks herself into the corner of the couch when Dick lets her go, and flits her eyes nervously around the room. “Everyone, this is Rona. Rona, this is my dad, Bruce,” Bruce smiles and gives her a little wave, which she returns hesitantly, “and my sister, Cass.” Cass swipes her hand from her ear out in front of her to say hello, and Rona does something like a half salute to try to return the gesture. Cass signs almost back at her, and Rona’s brow furrows in confusion.

She leans in close to Dick and whispers, not at all quietly, “What is she doing?”

Dick stifles a laugh, not wanting Rona to feel bad for asking questions. “Cass speaks in sign language, not with words, like we do.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means, that Cass doesn’t like to talk too much, so when she needs to tell us something, she uses her hands to say it. Each sign has a meaning, and when you put a bunch of them together it makes a sentence. It’s just like talking, you just use your hands. See?” he says, and then finger spells her name for her. “That’s how to spell your name in sign language!”

Rona cocks her head to the side and tries, and mostly fails, to replicate Dick’s gestures.

“I like that! It’s cool,” she declares and Cass beams.

Dick breathes a sigh of relief, for what feels like the billionth time in the past week. He was worried when they met that Rona wouldn’t understand Cass’s need to use sign language. Seems like Amy did a pretty good job with her kid.

He shoves that thought to the side and gestures to Jason.

“And this is my brother Jason. I have two more brothers too, but you’ll meet them later, okay?” Rona looks a little relieved at that, and tries to replicate Cass’s greeting at Jason too.

Jason actually smiles, a genuine smile, not the kind he forces when he needs to, and Dick is reminded, rather surprisingly, how much his brother really likes children, and how good he is with them.

“You’re almost there, pipsqueak,” Jason says, and Dick almost takes back the kind thoughts he had about him. But then he continues, “You’ve gotta tuck your thumb in to your palm a little more, almost like you’re trying to hold your own thumb, and then you put your hand by your ear, and swing it on forward.” He demonstrates, a little slower than Cass had, and Rona mimics him, and his smile only widens. Dick watches the whole thing in disbelief.

He hasn’t seen Jason look so laid back since before he died. Maybe this whole situation will be good for more than just Rona. Dick doesn’t want to get his hopes up too high, but he indulges a little. A tiny bit of hope never hurt anyone.

Rona giggles a little when Bruce and Jason both praise her for getting the sign correct, and though she’s still tucked into Dick’s side, like she’s too scared to part from him, she looks the happiest she’s been all week. Alfred comes back into the room then-- Dick hadn’t even seen him leave-- to call them all to the dining room for lunch, and Rona seems pretty enthusiastic about that too. Dick’s going to count today as a win. Whatever else happens will happen, and it may be bad, but this, right here, is enough to call today a good day.

Lunch goes by without incident, and Dick thinks that this is the longest he’s been in a room with more than one of his siblings without it devolving into some form of argument, which only adds to the ‘positives’ tally for the day. Rona does tell Jason and Cass that Dick is a prince, because his dad lives in a castle, and that makes them both crack up, and that isn’t a really a positive. But then, Rona says that since Jason and Cass are Dick’s siblings, that means they must be a prince and a princess too, and they get very serious, very fast. Cass spends the rest of the meal drinking with her pinky up, snickering all the while, and Jason tries to put on a really terrible British accent for a second before Rona makes a face at him that has him breaking out in a grin again.

It’s right then that the universe decides that it’s had enough of them having a good day, of course.

As soon as Alfred clears the dishes away, Rona turns to Dick with a miserable look on her face, and tells him she has a stomach ache. She didn’t eat much of anything, which is pretty on par with how she’s been acting the past week, so it’s not lunch disagreeing with her, and he’d read that physical complaints are common in children going through the loss of a loved one. So he decides that it’s probably time for them to call it a day and head back to the penthouse.

He thanks Alfred for the meal, and tells Bruce and his siblings he’ll talk to them later, and tucks Rona into the back seat of the car-- which Bruce teases him for taking-- and he takes them home.

It’s still strange to think of it as home for him and Rona, Dick thinks as he carries Rona into her room and settles her under the covers on her bed. She’s his kid, now, but he’s definitely not her parent yet, for all that he is the one parenting her now. He feels like he’s walking a fine line between being a good parental figure and replacing her mother and he doesn’t want to tip the balance the wrong way. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to appear distant to her, just because he’s a little paranoid about how he’s taking care of her. He wants to be there for her in every way she needs, but he doesn’t want to be overbearing to her.

He has no idea how Bruce managed to find that balance for five very different kids, who each came to him at a different age, from different familial situations.

He thinks he should buy Bruce a gift, just for being a halfway competent parent. He deserves it.

Dick’s startled out of his thoughts as he boils water to put in a hot water bottle by his phone ringing. He answers without checking the caller ID, because to be honest, he’s a little out of it.

“Grayson.”

“West,” comes the reply, and Dick can actually feel the tension leave his body at the sound of Wally’s voice. He didn’t know who he was expecting on the other end of the line, but the fact that it’s Wally relieves him to no end.

“Hey, Wall, how’s it going?”

“I was gonna ask you the same. You’ve been kinda radio silent in the groupchat, even though Roy was telling us a bunch of ridiculous stories about your siblings. I just wanted to check up on you. Everyone was asking after you.”

Right. The groupchat they were in with the rest of the original six members of the Titans. Dick had turned off the notifications for it, because he didn’t want the constant buzzing while he was trying to establish some kind of real relationship with Rona, and a little because he didn’t think he could handle their antics at the moment.

“It’s been a crazy week. Even by Gotham standards.”

“You want me to come over tonight? I’ll bring a six pack and pretend to get tipsy with you and we can talk about it?”

It takes every ounce of willpower in Dick’s entire body for him to decline the offer. There is nothing he wants more than to have his best friend there right then. Wally always knows how to make him feel better, he knows Dick better than even his family does. But Rona doesn’t need another new person today, doesn’t need yet another change right now.

“Sorry, Wally, it’s probably not a good idea.”

“Dick, come on. Tell me what’s up. You’re kinda worrying me.”

Dick tells him everything, about Amy and Rona and how terrified he is about the fact that he has a kid now, the words leaving him in such a rush that he’s done explaining by the time the kettle goes off. He sets it to the side to cool to a more reasonable temperature, and heaves a deep breath. Fuck, it felt good to get that off his chest.

“Jesus, dude. That’s intense,” Wally says, when Dick’s finally done. “Definitely not whelming.”

The use of that word is what finally breaks Dick, and he bursts into peals of hysterical laughter. It’s right then and there that he decides that everything will be okay. He has his family and he has his friends and he has Wally. If he has them all, then Rona has them too.

It’s all going to be okay.

#dickwally #dick grayson #wally west #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #cass cain #dc #dc comics #nightwing #batman #fic #mine

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second-hand-heaven · 6 years

Text

Tim Drake vs The Cold and Flu Aisle

Ao3

sequel to Conner Kent vs The Menstrual Hygiene Aisle

Summ: Tim Drake is a good bro, which is why he's staring at the cold and flu aisle in the pharmacy at 2am.

It's his night off, but Tim is still out on Gotham's streets at 2am. At least this time he's not wearing tights. As the pharmacy comes into sight, he slows his bike and pulls up to the curb.

Helmet off, he shakes out his hair before dismounting the bike. There’s no point fussing with his hair, though, as flicks up his jacket hood a moment later. In and out, that's the plan. He's got other places to be tonight, and being spotted at Tim Drake, billionaire's son, would be counter-productive.

The bell above the door barely musters a chime as he enters. He scans the store sharply, but he’s not looking for any threats. Well, he is, but not intentionally. He’s got his sights set on something other than vigilante justice tonight. Okay so, the cold and flu aisle. There it is. He catalogues each zone: child-appropriate treatments, “chemical free” treatments (Tim scoffs at it and moves along), sections for different types of coughs. Oddly enough, there's no section for treating a Kryptonian flu, which is a shame. That would be really helpful right about now. But Kon is half human after all, even if that half is taken from an evil megalomaniac. Surely some of this stuff should work on him?

With a shrug, he piles the products into his arms. Is it too much? Is he overly worried? Probably. It's just that Conner's never been sick before, not like this. So it's logical, then, to be concerned. Perfectly logical. He takes another packet of throat lozenges, just in case. Maybe should have grabbed a basket...

Waiting in line, because there was somehow a rush of customers this late at night, Tim spots something sitting on the shelving by the counter. It stares up at him with a stitched-on grin. Its left ear is flopped over, and on instinct Tim reaches out to fix it. The fur is impossibly soft, melting into Tim's palm. Its glass eyes plead with him, and he can’t say no. He adds it to his collection and finally makes it to the counter. The sullen cashier scans Tim's items slower than a goddamn sloth. Tim taps his foot impatiently.

Purchases tucked safely in his backpack, he heads out into Gotham's fog-drenched night. By some miracle, his bike is still by the curb and in one piece. Must be a quiet night for the rogues tonight. Revving his bike, he pulls away from the curb. He speeds back to the Manor; he's got a plane to catch.

Tim lands the Batplane in the empty field behind the Kent farm and jogs toward the house. The cloaking device hides it from view, although he shouldn't be gone too long.

The house is dark as he approaches. It should be, considering it's nearing 4am. He swings himself up to the open window with slightly less grace than usual.

“You could use the door, you know?” Kon says, his voice heavily congested. He sits up on the bed, switching on his bedside lamp. Pushing the blankets off his legs, he makes to stand before deciding against it, sinking down on the bed softly. He's wearing a ratty T-shirt and a pair of blue boxers, his hair loose from sleep and looking impossibly soft.

Tim nearly falls out the window. He's tired, okay? It’s definitely not because of the godly sight before him. Godly. Even sick with the flu Conner still manages to look like a freaking model. It's so not fair.

To cover for his earlier unbalance, he enters the room with a move he learned from Nightwing, a flip with just a touch of Dick’s brand of showmanship. Kon grins at the display, and it makes his chest tighten. He can picture the teasing he'd get from the rest if the bats, but none of his siblings are here to laugh about his useless crush anyway.

“I could,” he says, crossing the room, “but you never do me that courtesy when you come to visit.”

Kon lays back against the bed. “Yeah, but I can fly.” His shirt rides up a little, showing a ribbon of skin just above his waistband. Tim's eyes linger there a moment too long. He sits on the bed, an arms reach away from Kon.

“Not at the moment you can't.” It's true. Kon called him after he sneezed mid-air and flew backwards into a grain silo. He's been grounded since, but this cold hasn't budged. Hence why Tim's here with heavy artillery.

“Ugh,” Kon groans, throwing a hand across his eyes. “I hate this. How can people live like this?”

Human. Kon must feel horribly human, weakened by a common bug. Or perhaps not a common bug, considering its a Kryptonian strain. “It's a good thing I brought supplies then.” He opens his backpack and catalogues each item. Tissues (he insists on the kind that's infused with aloe vera), cold and flu tablets, two bottles of water, a thermos of Alfred's chicken soup, some vaporub, lozenges, and the blue teddy bear. Excellent. He lays it all out on the bed.

Kon props himself up on an elbow, watching. “Tim, you didn't have to…”

No, but he wanted to. That's what friends do, right? They look after each other. And besides, he kind of owes Kon after the tampon incident. “Of course I did. The Kent's are out of town; I didn't want you to be alone.” He knows firsthand how much it sucks to be sick alone.

There's a genuine smile on Kon's face, softer than his usual player grin. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” He picks up the packet of cold and flu tablets, popping the blister packets and catching the pills in his hand.

“Maybe you should go a little easy on those…” But Conner pays him no mind, downing half the pills with a gulp of water. The bob of his Adam’s apple is tantalising to watch. Tim looks away, feeling a flush rising from beneath his collar.

“I'm Kryptonian, it won't affect me that much.”

“Half Kryptonian,” Tim reminds him, “but either way you shouldn't have these in an empty stomach.” He reaches for the thermos and unscrews the lid. He pours the contents into the cap and passes it to Kon. “Alfred made you some soup.”

Kon looks up at him in confusion. “He made me soup?”

He was the one to offer. Alfred's got a soft spot for Kon, ever since he found out about Kon's late night misadventures in the menstrual hygiene aisle. According to the Brit, Conner had proved himself to be “a fine young gentleman”, and was now apparently privy to soup privileges. Which is a big deal in the Wayne household, let it be known.

He takes a cautious sip, then his face lights up. “This is amazing. I love Alfred. I love him so much. He made me soup. He's my grandpa now, I'm adopting him.”

Tim barely holds back a laugh. “I don't think that's how it works, bro.”

“I don't care. I'll marry into the Wayne family if I have to.”

Marry into the… wow. Is this where he pastes a sign on his forehead saying ‘I'm single, marry me’? Perhaps not, it might seem a little desperate. “Cass is out of the question, unless you want to fight Steph to the death. Although, I hear Batcow is single.”

Conner shudders. “I live in the country, Tim. Please don't joke about that.”

Gross. Tim takes the tub of vaporub from the bed and hands it to Kon. “It should help with the congestion,” he explains.

Kon stares at it, but makes no move to open it.

“Let me,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Shirt off.”

Tim unscrews the lid and dips two fingers into jelly. Pungent, it should do the trick to clear the congestion.

He turns back to Kon and pauses. He's seen Kon without his shirt plenty of times, but this is… it's much more intimate this time.

Kon jumps at the first touch. “It's cold.”

“It's the menthol, you'll be fine,” Tim says, keeping his eyes on the task at hand. As if anything could distract him right now. The expanse of toned muscle, hairless tanned skin, keeps his attention like the most vexing puzzle. He wants to lick it. Probably not the best idea for numerous reasons, first and foremost being the horrid taste if the vaporub.

He works the jelly into Kon's skin, massaging gently at his chest. The contrast between his pale, scarred hands, and Kon's golden skin is gorgeous. Gradually, he works his way upward, to Kon's throat. He feels Kon swallow, the bob of his Adam’s apple beneath his finger. His hand stills against Kon's throat, resting there. What would it be like to squeeze it? What sounds would he make?

Conner's eyes are wide, lips parted. “Tim.” His voice is low, tight. It's so hot. “Tim?” he repeats, more concerned this time.

Tim pulls back, clearing his throat. “That should do it.” He wipes off his hand on his jeans, avoiding meeting Kon's gaze.

“What's that?” Kon says, breaking the awkward silence. When Tim finally glances over, he sees Kon pointing at the bear.

He feels himself blush. “Oh, um, I got this for you.” He picks up the soft toy and passes it to Kon. “Kids like to have soft toys when they're sick.”

Kon is in awe of the blue-furred bear. “I've never had one before.”

Oh. Of course Cadmus would never have given the growing Superman clone a toy, but the realisation hits him hard. Kon never had a soft toy before? Shit, he never even had a childhood. And isn't that a little heartbreaking?

Kon stares at the fluffy bear in his hand, thumb absently stroking the fur.

“Well now you do.” Tim tries and fails to read his expression. Is he okay? Was it too much?

He's enveloped in a hug, tight, cutting off his train of thought. “Kon?”

“Sorry.” Kon jerks back. “I-uh, I don't want you to get sick.”

It's sweet, really, but Tim couldn't care less about getting sick right now. He wants Conner's arms around him again. “It's a Kryptonian cold, and oddly enough I have no Kryptonian in me.”

There's a dopey grin spread across Kon's face. Seems like the medicine has started to kick in. “Would you like some?”

Tim nearly chokes on his tongue. “What?” Surely he misheard...

“Would you like some Kryptonian in you?” Conner giggles.

Tim doesn't answer, instead he shoves against Kon's shoulder that's shaking with laughter.

In all honesty, he would. He most certainly would, but that seems like a weird thing to admit to his best friend. But then again, said best friend was the one who brought it up. Having some Kryptonian in him is like, ninety five percent of his fantasy material. But that doesn't matter. Kon is his friend. No matter what happens, no matter his feelings, that is the most important thing. And besides, Kon's obviously too hopped up on whatever was in those cold and flu tablets to actually mean it.

He rolls his eyes at Kon's antics and starts gathering his backpack. It's late, he should head back to Gotham before the sun is up. He stands from the bed and heads over to the window. The floorboards groan with each step, grown unused to being stepped on. “Get some sleep, Kon. Let me know how you're feeling in the morning.”

“Stay,” Kon says with a pout.

God, he wants to. But he needs to get back. If he stays, he's not sure how to stop things from being weird. He opens the window, about to slide though, but Kon halts him with a single word.

“Please?” There's a vulnerability in his plea.

Kon wants him, wants him here. Tim can't bring himself to fight it. His backpack drops to the floor. He kicks off his boots and starts undressing. Down to his T-shirt and boxers, he lays down on the bed beside Kon. “Batman is going to kill me.”

Kon pulls the covers up over them and scoots closer. There's no need to be so close, not really, but it's not like Tim's about to complain.

Spooning Tim's form, he murmurs, “I won't let him.” His arms tighten around Tim's torso. “He'll have to go through me.”

Which, in hindsight, Bruce would be quite capable of. He's got enough fail-safes for dealing with full-blooded Kryptonians; Conner wouldn't be an issue for him. But that's not what matters. Tim and Kon protect one another, look after each other, and the assurance of Kon's words let's an odd emotion wash over him. Safe. He feels safe. Wasn't he supposed to be comforting Kon, not the other way around? Regardless, he basks in it, basks in the warmth of Conner's arms, just like he did that night at the Manor. The reality is so much better than the memory of being held.

“Hey, Kon?” The words escape his lips before he can stop them.

“Mmyeah?” he answers, voice heavy with drowsiness.

“We’re a good team, aren't we? We have each others backs.”

“‘course.”

“And nothing would change that?”

“Never.” Kon's breathing is even against the back of his neck. He seems earnest, even a hair's breadth away from sleep.

But his useless feelings for Kon certainly might. That's the kicker, that's what he's afraid of. It's so dumb. He's so dumb. How could he let this happen? How could he fall for his best friend like this? They're friends, best friends. Maybe they can get through this, get over Tim's inconvenient and rather unhelpful crush, and not lose their friendship in the process. Reassured, Tim turns in Kon's arms to face him. Conner's eyes are closed, lashes heavy on his cheekbone. “Kon?”

Conner doesn't reply.

Good. One day he'll have the guts to say this while Conner's awake. But today is not that day. He steels himself with a deep breath. “I like you. A lot. I want to tell you just how much, but I'm so scared I'll lose you. And I can't. I can't lose you. Not again.” Fuck, he’s such a coward. His eyes burn. “I'm scared to love you, Kon, because it's going to hurt.” He watches Kon's sleeping face, unmarred and so so beautiful, and he just melts. “It already does.”

“S’okay,” Conner mumbles, pulling Tim to his chest. “I'm scared too.”

FIN

#timkon #timkon vs feelings #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #pining #all of the pining #my fic #fic #dc #red robin #superboy

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disgrays-on · 6 years

Text

perfect

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Tim Drake // Reader

A/N: I listened to Ed Sheeran’s Perfect and this happened?? idk don't ask for specifics, enjoy it for its surface value thanks

You first met Tim Drake at a meeting that your father had set up between his company - your company, your father would often say and you could only give him a tight-lipped smile - and Wayne Enterprises. He had been sitting in for his father and you were sitting in for yours. Your father had clapped you on the shoulder before the meeting, eyes cold as he told you to be careful around that Wayne boy. The fact that your father felt threatened around a young man half his age should have told you plenty.

Tim was incredibly endearing, in his own rightful way. Within thirty minutes of meeting him, sat amongst a handful of stiff, pompous old men with their stuffy suits who didn’t seem know when to keep their mouth shut, you understood completely why your father had said what he had. A friendship blossomed between the two of you, one rooted in a shared disdain for disgustingly long and boring meetings and sneaking away during whatever supposed charity event the upper crust of Gotham felt like holding for that month and love for a moment of peace and quiet from the usually hectic days. Dating each other felt like a good next step.

Your father, deeply entrenched in his seemingly one-sided contempt for the Waynes, had disapproved of any sort of relationship with Tim from the beginning. You will not befriend that boy, your father spat, commanded like his words were final, like being friends with someone was the most barbarous deed you could have ever done. You refused to dignify his words with a response. Later on, your father smiles as he greets Bruce Wayne. You didn’t understand his need to be so dishonest, but this was nothing new. Nothing else seemed more aristocratic than being completely inauthentic in everything that you do. So you had opted out of telling your father that you’ve actually been seeing that Wayne boy for quite some time because it was easier to pretend that you weren’t friends than to explain to your father that you actually really liked him.

It wasn’t the most difficult thing to do. Acting like you were above someone was easy when it was what you’ve been taught for almost all your life. The media ate it up, believed undoubtedly that the heirs of these two multimillionaire companies despised each other for no other reason than the fact that the both of you saw each other as rivals. You weren’t inclined to think so. You liked to think that you were excellent, commanding attention in a crowded room was no big issue for you but you were also certain that Tim could outwit you any day. He was brilliant, even more so than you, and you wouldn’t delude yourself into thinking otherwise. Acting coolly towards each other when you were in public wasn’t a problem for the both of you (but if a meeting between your company and Wayne Enterprises ran just a bit longer than necessary, no one needed to know).

"Wayne." You nodded in his direction as a way of greeting, as stiff as you could have been, trying hard not to think about the fact that it was only two hours ago that he had been tangled in your bed sheets, his hair a mess and clothes sloppy as he snored softly in his sleep. It was impressive, just how good he could clean himself up in a short period of time. He looked amazing, not a single hair out of place and sleek in a dark blue suit. Tonight’s event was another charity ball that your father had decided to throw.

“Care to dance?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. A small, barely-there smirk and a gleam in his eyes greeted you when you turned from the group of people that you had been forced to mingle with to face him. The sight of him never failed to make you slightly weak and breathless but you managed to disguise it with a polite smile. It was a bold move to ask you to dance while you were with a group of people but it was a good cover-up to be close to each other. After all, societal expectations dictated that you had to say yes (but there was no way you could have said no to him, regardless). You were sure that this would somehow make the headlines tomorrow. You could already feel your father’s disapproval.

“Far be it from me to say no to you.” You answered curtly, returning his smile. He led you to the central area where quite a few people were already slowly swaying together. The room was pleasantly dimmed but there was still just enough soft light to be quite intimate. The song started, soft and smooth - a beautiful arrangement of violins and pianos - generic but understandable tune for these occasions. One of your hands rested on his shoulder, fingers enjoying the smoothness of his suit while the other was gently clasped in his own. His other hand rested on the small of your back, his lukewarm fingers pressing into you. His hands squeeze yours briefly, before he made the first move.

His movements were elegant, perfectly in sync with the slow music, but there was something in him - the lines in his stature, the solid feel of him under her fingers, the careful vigilance as he led you around the dance floor - that radiated a firm resolve, a silent strength that told you that he wasn’t to be underestimated like people usually do.

“I was right,” He mumbled, quiet enough so that only you could hear him.

“Hm?”

“You look nice.” He laughed softly. You had to resist the urge to laugh along with him, you didn’t need any more scrutiny than what the both of you have already garnered. Earlier on in the night, you had been quite hesitant to attend the event, nitpicking on the littlest details that could get you out of going.

“I can’t wear this.” You sighed, cringing inwardly at your reflection. “I look ridiculous.”

“I mean,” He had said from where he sat on your bed, eyes trained on you as you examined yourself in the mirror. The outfit, chosen by your mother, looked severely unflattering on you. But far be it from you to disobey your mother’s words. He continued, “I’m not complaining if you take it off, but it might make the party a bit awkward.”

You snorted at that, not stopping the smile that spread on your face. That would be more than just a bit awkward. You couldn’t even imagine your father’s anger or your mother’s disappointment. The thought was incredibly amusing though.

“For what it’s worth, I think you look nice.” He shrugged.

“And I love you dearly for that,” You turned back to look at him, shaking your head, “But you have terrible taste.”

You smiled at the memory, “Then I stand by my words too.”

You’d like to think that you and Tim were quite capable actors. After all, everyone seemed to believe that the cold, uncongenial act that both of you put on was the ultimate truth. No one seemed to have caught on yet, or even questioned it at this point. At least you'd like to think that no one knew. You had a feeling that Bruce knew because he looks at you contemplatively sometimes, always silently, always pensive but never saying anything. His siblings though, you were certain, did not know of your relationship. You’ve had the pleasure of meeting a couple of them a few times, and while they seemed like a handful bunch, they were good company. The both of you didn’t tell them but they never asked either. You always managed to act coolly whenever they’re around, even though all you want to do is laugh because they were all good actors too.

Time together alone was always hard to come by with the both of you having such irregular schedules but you two manage. He sneaks into your place sometimes, and how he manages to do it every single time without attracting attention from anyone still baffles you. You sleep over at his place sometimes - a cosy penthouse a distance away from Wayne Manor that he had given you an extra set of keys for - and spend the mornings with him, groaning about all the work that you needed to do that you hadn’t done yet. You try not to leave anything behind, or at least nothing too incriminating, because he had mentioned to you, amongst other things during late night heart-to-hearts, that his family members liked dropping by at any given time without prior notice. It was why you much preferred him to join you in your humble domain. At least you didn’t have an incredibly long line of people wanting to barge into your home.

You supposed it was only time that his siblings caught on though.

You distinctly remembered leaving a couple of your things at Tim’s place after a long day of non-stop meetings and you had been too exhausted to go back to your own home because his was closer. Amongst your things were a bunch of files that you needed to look through before a meeting for the next day, which was why that night found you unlocking the door to his penthouse. Rummaging through your bag to look for your phone, the sweet smell of buttery popcorn and the low murmur of chatter had gone unnoticed by you.

“Tim?” You called out, pushing the stuff in your bag around because you swore you had slipped it in earlier.

“Babe, have you seen my-” You stopped in your tracks when you noticed that the normally empty living room wasn’t so empty anymore. His family members now occupied the room, obviously in the beginning stages of a movie night. The mildly surprised looks that they shared would be amusing if you weren’t so taken aback. You raised your eyebrows at your boyfriend, who at least had the decency to look a bit sheepish, “Uh…”

“Busted.” He muttered under his breath.

BONUS:

“Why has your family been sending me congratulatory texts?” You asked a few days later when it was just the two of you. Your parents were still unaware but most of his family had found out instantly. You weren’t surprised that they connected the dots so quickly after you had walked in - they were an amazingly intelligent bunch - although you supposed there was definitely no other way to interpret it.

You were on one side of the couch and he was on the other but your legs were tangled with his under the blanket that the two of you shared. Your phone had been vibrating all week from all the text messages that you were receiving (it was incredible, how they managed to make their congratulatory messages sound mildly threatening). You didn’t even need to ask how his family had acquired your phone number because you didn’t think there was anything they couldn’t get if they put their minds into it.

“Well.” He shrugged, eyes still trained on the television screen playing a movie that he had chosen as he offered the bowl of popcorn to you. You furrowed your eyebrows at his noncommittal answer. You didn’t think there was literally nothing that could surprise you at this point. Judging by his lack of actual response towards it, his family sticking their noses where it didn’t actually belong probably tended to happen a lot. You accepted the bowl, plopping it down on your lap before grabbing a handful.

“You find this far too entertaining.” You sighed, turning back to the TV. There was no point in wasting time in trying to find out why or how. Better just enjoy the movie, you supposed.

“Should I be worried that you’re being so indignant?” He turned to you and raised his eyebrows, munching slowly on his popcorn, but you couldn’t miss the gleam in his eyes even if you wanted to. He was enjoying this way too much.

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not what I meant.”

He grinned back at you, boyish and adorable. Lies. It was all lies. You knew the truth behind that smile. Your cheeks warmed at it, yes, but you still had the urge to punch him a bit. You settled for a jab to his calf with your toe. He was just feeling smug because no one noticed that the two of you had already been dating for a long time.

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tgwltw · 7 years

Text

Her hand

Back with another request! Anyone who knows me knows that I absolutely love writing Wally x Batsis!! Hopefully, this is alright for you! Thank you so much for sending this prompt in and I really do hope you enjoy this! Trying to go through requests still so posting might be slow! (Also I am trying to see if I can complete at least two-three requests per day so I can go through the requests nicely!)

Wally wrings his hands as he tries his hardest not to bolt out of the room. He never really thought this day would come, sort of. Actually, Wally also never thought he would last this long with you – his relationship with you had been a rocky one but Wally has never been one to give up on who he loves and you being the stubborn person that you are has managed to wedge yourself completely deep in his heart and Wally knows he is never going to be able to let you go – at least not anymore.

“Is there a reason you ask for this meeting?” Bruce stares at Wally and Wally almost lets out a curse – deep down inside, he knows Bruce knows why he is here – he probably already knew about this meeting even before Wally decided to come see him. When Bruce shifts, Wally tenses slightly before clearing his throat.

“Well – yeah – uh, Sir.” Wally used to be able to talk easily (read: run his mouth off) with Bruce before but now that he had come to the manor with a very important mission and he really does not want to ruin any chances. “I think you already know why I am here,” Wally averts his gaze from Bruce’s all-knowing ones and catches sight of a new family photo – it brings a smile to his face when he sees just how happy you are, surrounded by your father and your brothers.

Bruce doesn’t even move to follow Wally’s gaze because he knows well enough what Wally is staring at. He chuckles inwardly seeing the love-stricken smile on the young man’s face. Bruce honestly never thought the relationship you shared with Wally could last long – given the nature of the lives Wally and you are living but he is glad. Bruce is glad over the fact that he has seen that look ever since Wally had been a younger teen and whenever it came to you, that look of love and adoration that always cross his face somewhat relieves Bruce – he knows well that Wally is a very good man – one that can keep you grounded and one that made you feel very complete. “I do.” Bruce finally answers.

Wally lets out a sigh of relief before slowly reaching for the black velvet ring box that feels extremely heavy in his pocket. He takes it out from his pocket and places it on the table in front of him – he knows it’s nothing much compared to what Bruce could probably afford but Wally had saved up enough money to buy this ring you have been eyeing for the longest time. “I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, Sir.” Wally takes a deep breath and looks at Bruce straight in the eyes. It unnerves him a little with how intense Bruce is looking at him but relief washes over him when Bruce slowly nods his head. “Are you serious?” His jaw drops and Wally feels as if he had been smacked in the face – he actually thought Bruce would put up a lot of resistance.

Bruce chuckles at the expression Wally is wearing before nodding his head. “I have seen the both of you grow, Wally and you are a really good man for Y/N. I have never seen Y/N happier and I am afraid, I have to burst your bubble.” Bruce states seriously causing Wally to stare at him in confusion. “If you think I was the one that will be giving you a hard time, you are definitely mistaken – have you considered what the rest will have to say?”

Wally blanches when he finally realizes that he has to talk to the rest of your brothers – Dick had been alright with his plan, in fact his best friend had been in full support ever since the two of them got together and Dick had already given him the ‘talk’ too. Tim might be a little bit alright and Jason might try to shoot him but Damian… Damian is definitely going to give him a lot of hell. “Oh.”

Bruce simply smiles before reaching for the cup of tea Alfred had poured for him earlier. He sips his drink – it’s lukewarm now – and watches the man in front of him. Bruce really cannot wait to see you in your wedding dress.

Asking Tim had gone smoothly. Wally didn’t even know why he had fretted in the first place – actually, he does know. He knows just how much your brothers mean to you and he really wants to do you right by asking all of your brothers for permission. Tim simply smacked him on the back, “took you long enough, Wally! Y/N’s going to be really happy.” Wally had a love-struck smile when Tim brought you up causing the latter to smack his back again. “Okay, gross – I don’t need to see that look on your face whenever you think about my sister!” Tim exclaims and Wally sputters because his thoughts had been innocent enough. Tim laughs at Wally’s expression. “Joking, Wally. Are you going to go look for the rest now?”

Wally nods his head. “Dick already gave me the green light. I just need to find Jason and Damian.” He winces at that thought. Maybe he should have gone to see Damian first because he knows how close Damian is to you. Tim also winces when he heard the last two names.

Chasing Jason down was not as hard as Wally thought it would be. Granted, Dick had to set up the meeting and insisted he is let in on the meeting too. Just in case Jason decides to go after him, that is. Wally rolls his eyes at his friend’s vote of confidence – Wally likes to think that Jason likes him a little bit more than Damian. Just by the tiniest bit.

Jason raises his eyes as he dismantles his gun. Wally eyes the table carefully before taking a seat across of him. “So what did you want to meet up for?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Wally takes out the black velvet box he had been carrying and simply places it in front of him. Jason’s gaze zeroes in on the box and Wally can feel the tenseness in the air. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Wally reels back at Jason’s words. “No – I got Bruce’s permission already.” He squeaks before clearing his throat and repeating the words again. “I just wanted to tell you that I am planning on asking Y/N’s hand in marriage.” Jason narrows his eyes at Wally. Wally tries his hardest not to notice just how quickly Jason put the gun back together.

“You better not hurt or make Y/N cry or else.” Jason loads the gun and Wally nods his head. “I can think of several different ways to shoot you, Wally and you are going to hurt in places you never thought you would get hurt. Got it?”

Wally gulps and nods his head. “Of course – Dick has also given me the ‘hurt Y/N and I’ll make sure you regret it’ talk and I am pretty sure Damian is going to be harder to convince – but thank you?”

Jason rolls his eyes, scoffing at Wally. “Good luck trying to convince that spawn.” Jason hisses and that’s Wally’s queue to leave him alone. He grabs the ring and slides it in his pocket before rushing to the kitchen where Dick has been raiding Jason’s pantry.

“No.”

Wally sputters. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

Damian shakes his head. “Tt – and I am supposed to give dearest sister my blessing?” He eyes Wally a few times before shaking his head, clicking his tongue and returning his attention back to the book he had initially been reading right before Wally had disturbed him.

“B – oh, come on, Damian.” Wally frowns as he tries once again. He knew Damian was going to be the hardest one to convince – he also knows just how close the both of you are too so he somewhat understands Damian’s reservations even if he is starting to feel annoyed. “Everyone else has given me their permissions and blessings and are you really not going to give me your blessings?” Wally presses.

Damian simply ignores him in favour of reading the very action-packed part of the book. He has always admired your wonderful tastes in books! He can’t wait to have a discussion with you regarding this book – out of all of his siblings, having discussions about literature with you is always the best.

Just as Wally is about to start pulling his own hair out, a voice catches the both of them by surprise.

“Wally, Damian – my two favourite men in one room.” You greet them happily. You haven’t seen your boyfriend for the past few days because you had been trying to catch deadlines and finish up all of your assignments and you have missed him terribly. Talking to him on the phone had quelled some of the feelings you had but seeing him in the flesh is much better. The grin on your face widens when Wally turns to look at you with a smile that could blind you.

“Babe,” Wally pockets the box and stands up to wrap his arms around you. You giggle as you snuggle closer, wrapping your own arms around Wally. He kisses your temple. “How was your day – did you finish your assignments? Have you eaten?” Wally throws questions at you – if he had been paying attention, he would have seen Damian looking at the both of you with a serious look on his face.

You shrug your shoulders, pressing your nose against his collarbone. “Day started off quite badly – forgot my umbrella in the car, it poured when I was walking across the campus and the deadlines I had been trying to catch turned out to be postponed to next week and overall, it just sucks.” You told him, suddenly feeling very tired at how your day had turned out to be. “I am really happy I get to see you – I missed you, Wally.” Wally pulls you closer, showering you with kisses causing you to giggle a few times.

Damian pretends to gag causing the two of you to turn to him. He has his bookmarker at the page he had been reading and he stands up. “The least the both of you could do was to wait until I was out of the room, Tt.” Damian deadpans causing you to laugh. He closes his book and heads toward the door. “Sister, I will see you during dinner later – I will tell Pennyworth to make your favourites for tonight, to make up for your horrendous day.” Damian informs you and you could not help but reach over to ruffle his hair, causing Damian to hiss and pout at your actions. Damian is about to head out of the room when he pauses by the door to stare directly at Wally.

Wally raises one of his eyebrows.

“I suppose you have mine.” Damian mutters, confusing you but that had been enough for Wally because the grin on his face widens and he begins to try and talk your ears off by talking about what he had been doing at work (in an attempt to make sure you don’t catch on to what Damian had said) and Damian resists the urge to roll his eyes because it is really unbecoming so he settles for crossing his arms. “Tt.”

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dickie-gayson · 7 years

Text

Shenanigans

Chapter Two: Jason's No Good, Very Bad Day

Jason's No Good, Very Bad Day

To say Jason was having a bad day was an understatement. He was having the worst day ever, and that's counting the infamous 'totally died once' day. First, he woke up because a fucking parade was going down the street. Why was there even a parade? On top of that, he caught one hell of a bug. His nose was all clogged, his throat hurt, his fucking eyeballs throbbed because of the migraine he had, and he was so nauseous that just the thought of smelling food made him want to throw up. So, he decided to take some medicine because like fuck he was going to suffer through this. Turns out, he was out of cold and flu medicine, which sucked but that was only the third shitty thing in the whole list of shitty things to follow.

Naturally, he called one of his many siblings and bitched at them to get him medicine. Dick laughed at him and imitated his sick voice, which was way off the mark. Dick sounded like some sort of asthmatic goose which Jason totally didn't sound like, thank you very little Dickface. So, Jason hung up on Dick. Tim fell asleep halfway through the call then told him to fuck off after Jason all but wailed through the phone. Then, Tim hung up on Jason. Next, was Steph. Surely she'd take pity on his poor, innocent soul. Turns out, no, she wouldn't. She was still holding a grudge against him after he stole her ice cream from the freezer two weeks ago. They hung up on each other.

At this point, his throat was so sore, he felt like crying just a little (a lot). He didn't even bother to try Damian. That little demon would probably gloat about his superior immune system or some shit. He decided to try Cass next, because at least she had to love him just a little and care enough about her sickly brother. Also, he was still pretty sure Duke was scared of him. The phone only rang once before Cass's soft voice greeted his ear. Even that sounded too loud to his pounding head.

"Jason."

If it weren't for caller id, Jason would be creeped out by the knowing way she answered his call.

"Medicine."

That was all he rasped out because he was feeling way too sore to speak anymore. Also, he knew he didn't need to ramble on to convince her to help. She was awesome like that. He considered her the best sibling. The others were jerks.

"Magic word?"

He whined, which definitely didn't sound super pathetic. Was it just him or did it sound like she just laughed at his pain? No, Cass was the nice one. A highly lethal, former assassin, but nice.

"Cass..."

At the following silence, he all but cried. For the love of God he was dying here. Still, she didn't answer. He would have thought she hung up on him, but that wasn't her style. Also, he could still hear her laughing at him. So much for being the nice one. Jason sighed, then winced at the pain that followed.

"...Please?"

It was quiet for another beat before Cass responded.

"Ten minutes."

That was it before she hung up. He dropped his phone and prepared himself for ten whole minutes of suffering. This was just unfair. He's nice. He's funny. He's devilishly handsome. He helped little old ladies across the street. Why was he the one to get sick? Why couldn't Tim get sick? He was so unhealthy! And mean. That little shit was way craftier and evil than the others realized. He should have this cold. Maybe Jason would go over and cough all over his stuff. The thought of moving made him want to vomit just a little, so he decided he'd just stay here. Also, he was pretty sure Tim had a weakened immune system and it'd be pretty shitty of Jason to do that. See? Nice.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows, he's being shaken awake by Cass in full Black Bat regalia. He'd deny any and all claims that he screamed in fear at waking up to see that creepy mask right in his face. Tears pricked his eyes as his throat burned something fierce from the abuse. She handed him a steaming cup. He winced as he sat up and looked at the drink then at Cass in question. Thank whoever taught her how to read body language so well because he really didn't want to ask what the fuck it was.

"Theraflu."

He wanted to groan. Of all the medicines for her to bring. Theraflu was gross. At least they came out with better flavors. He carefully took the hot cup and tentatively sipped the drink. Immediately he gagged. It was original flavor. Cass must not have tastebuds, he decided. Medicine was never good when it was original flavor and Theraflu was the worst offender. Cass made a motion for him to keep going and he took a breath, ready to chug the disgusting liquid. It was a miracle he didn't vomit all over the place once he finished.

She gave him a pat on his shoulder as a sort of congratulations before taking the cup and setting it on the nightstand. Then, she pointed to his dresser, where a different bottle of medicine sat. He stared at it for a moment before looking at her with betrayal on his face. Her shoulders shook and she let out a breathy laugh. She made him drink that nasty shit when there was medicine right there. That means she knew Original Theraflu tasted like sweaty ten-week old gym socks.

"Why Cass?"

His voice still sounded really pathetic and scratchy.

"Ice cream."

He groaned and fell back against his pillow at that. Naturally, this was for something he did to Steph. Those two were damn near inseperable.

"I've never felt so betrayed in my life."

She just gave him another pat and made her exit as he bemoaned the horrible taste still tainting his mouth. That was number whatever of the unending horrors of the day, and it was only noon.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours. Once the Theraflu started to fade and the pain started to return, he decided to crawl his way to his dresser for some better tasting medicine. Actually, he was going to walk, but his foot got tangled in his sheet and he face planted. For a solid minute, he contemplated on the merits of just passing out on the floor and never getting up again. Eventually, he figured two whole feet wasn't too far. While this tasted bad, it wasn't Original Theraflu bad, and he didn't need a whole cup full to feel better.

After he took it, he decided to say 'fuck it' and lay back on the floor. It was cooler than his bed and, quite frankly, he didn't want to walk all two feet back. He fell back asleep with one fever-hot cheek pressed to the cold wood flooring as he waited for the medicine to work its magic. Yet again, he was rudely awoken by a sibling. This time, however, it was Dick waking him up. And it wasn't from a shake. No, this motherfucker had to trip over Jason's sprawled out legs and fall directly on top of his prone form, illiciting cries of surprise from the both. Naturally, he'd be agile and all but impossible to trip in every situation but this.

Jason curled up on his side with a pained sound and squinted angrily at Dick.

"The fuck you want, Dickhead?"

Dick got back to his feet and stared at Jason with slight worry.

"I came to bring you medicine even though you oh so rudely hung up on me. Why are you on the floor?"

Jason just glared for another moment before deeming the action too taxing and closed his eyes again.

"Colder down here. Bed too far."

If he was looking, he'd notice Dick rolling his eyes at Jason's melodramatics.

"You are such a baby."

Instead of verbally responding, he weakly flipped the older man off. Dick sounded like he was laughing at Jason, which was totally rude and uncalled for. Why was everyone laughing at him today? Jason flailed a little at the sudden feeling of arms under his neck and knees as he was lifted, causing Dick to grunt in an effort not to drop him.

"Jesus christ, stop it. You're heavy enough as it is. How many chili dogs have you been eating?"

Jason huffed as he, once again, glared at his older brother who seemed to be carrying him to his bed.

"Shut up, gilipollas."

At the insult, Dick let out an offended noise before dropping Jason onto his bed. Yet again, he'd deny any accusations at the shriek of surprise he let out at the sudden descent. And yet again, Dick was laughing at him. What did he do to deserve such a cruel older brother? Life was unfair. Jason grabbed his blanket and rolled until he was totally cocooned in it. It was blessedly quiet and dark for a moment before Dick pulled the blanket from over his head and stared at him.

"Whatcha doing, Jay?"

Jason wiggled in an effort to punch Dick for interrupting his rest, only to be reminded he just wrapped himself up like an oversized burrito, effectively trapping his arms. Instead, Jason turned again to bury his face in his pillows.

"Hiding."

Dick snorted as he hopped onto the bed. The jarring movements caused Jason's stomach to roll again. He let out a disgruntled sound. Bright blue eyes appeared inches from his and a shit-eating grin was plastered across Dick's face. Jason wondered how Dick would like it if he projectile vomited right in that dumb smiley face of his. That'd teach him to jump on his bed and be annoying.

"Whatcha hiding from?"

This asshole was having way too much fun with Jason's misery.

"You."

He burrowed his way further into his cocoon in an effort to escape his teasing older brother. It appeared his efforts were in vain because Dick just decided to start poking him over and over like the nuisance he was.

"Why are you hiding from me?"

Jason grumbled again before speaking up, though his voice was muffled by the blanket.

"You're mean. And ugly. Ugly and mean."

There was an over the top gasp at the words and Jason could just envision Dick putting an affronted hand to his heart. Then, just because he could, he envisioned himself punching Dick in the face a few times. That cheered him up a little.

"Ouch, Little Wing. Three Hottest Man of the Year awards say otherwise."

The sing-song way Dick said it was way too happy and smug for his tastes. He'd just have to take him down a few pegs then.

"They're liars, you're ugly. And still mean."

He pretended his voice wasn't nasally and gross sounding. Also, did his nose just whistle? Ugh.

"Well, that's just hurtful."

"Your face is hurtful!"

Alright, not his best comeback, he'd admit it, but he's sick. Dick just laughed loudly, causing Jason to wince as his head throbbed.

"Wow, you're hilarious when you get sick. Hold on, I need to record this."

"Go. Away."

"And miss this prime opportunity to stock up on blackmail? Hell no."

"I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You."

"You gotta deal with Dami first."

"Asshole."

The bed shifted as Dick got up and all was quiet again. Jason sighed in contentment. Then, his fortress was disturbed by his brother again. Jason was very tempted to bite his fingers but he didn't know where they've been and he didn't need to get even sicker. He felt a cool hand on his cheek then his forehead. He grumbled as Dick turned him to look into his eyes.

"Oh, shut up Jay. I'm just checking to make sure you're fine."

"I'm not fine. I'm dying. Again. This is it, Dickie. This is the end. Tell Steph I'm not sorry about the ice cream. It was delicious and I'm glad she didn't get any."

Dick rolled his eyes at his words. Jason was notoriously dramatic when he got sick. Okay, so maybe he was notoriously dramatic all the time, but he was even worse when he was sick.

"Relax, you've just got the flu."

As if he didn't believe Dick, Jason shook his head adamantly.

"No, no. I'm definitely dying again."

"It'll pass in about a day or two."

Dick looked around and spotted the open medicine on the dresser. Looks like he got here after someone else. He was betting it was Cass. She was the nice one. His attention was drawn back to the younger man as he heaved a grand sigh.

"This is the death of Jason Todd, the Remix. I'm biting the big one again. Going to that ol' Batcave in the sky. Pushing daises. Going to sleep with the fishes. Getting a six foot bed, which is ridiculous cus I'm six-one."

It seemed they were studiously ignoring one another at this point as they both continued on.

"With that medicine you took, you should feel pretty fine in about ten minutes or so."

"I want to leave all my belongings to Cass. No, wait, she made me drink original Theraflu. She gets nothing. Give it all to Alfie. He'll appreciate my rifle collection."

The older vigilante couldn't help but snort at Jason. Though, he could sympathize with the Theraflu original kind was easily the worst.

"Seriously, it's not that bad. Dami just got over the flu."

"Let Bruce bury me, so he can let me down one...last...time."

At that, Dick couldn't help but let out a loud laugh. He made his way to the window, ready to leave Jason wallow.

"Alright, yep I'm just gonna let you stew in your theatrics. See ya, Jay."

"Fare-thee-well, Dicklick. Parting would be such sweet sorrow, but you're an asshole. Tis time for me to depart from this mortal coil and return to the dust from which all came."

"God, you are such a nerd."

Jason peeked out of his shelter as Dick left through his bedroom window. And the asshole left it open, of course. How inconsiderate. He got a few more blessed hours of peace before yet another sibling crawled through his window. Jason whined as he was woken up.

"Why can't you people let me die in peace?"

"So Dick wasn't exaggerating, you really are a big baby when you're sick."

Tim stared down at him, totally unimpressed, dressed in his Red Robin gear, and sipping a latte like the rich boy he was. If Jason hadn't trapped his own arms, he would slap that drink right out of Tim's hands. Bloodshot teal eyes glared with all the hatred he could muster.

"Don't you have a kryptonian to be fucking?"

The younger boy only rolled his eyes before sipping obnoxiously on his drink.

"Haven't heard that one before. B said to get your lazy ass up. Arkham breakout."

Jason huffed and definitely didn't pout. He frowned intensely, that's it.

"Tell B he can go fall off a cliff. I'm not moving."

Tim, once more, gave Jason that condescending, unimpressed look. Once Jason rolled himself out of this blanket burrito, he was going to kick that latte-drinking loser's nonexistant ass.

"Oh please, you got the light work. You're on Riddler duty."

At that, Jason gave an offended gasp. Riddler duty? That's...that's almost as bad as Humpty Dumpty duty. Sure, Riddler set up a whole matter of deadly riddle-based traps and tests and had goons to fight, but beyond that he was a snap to beat up. So long as he hasn't rigged like...a children's hospital to blow or something, he should be fairly easy to wrangle in.

"I can't believe I got Riddler duty. This is unfair."

"That's rich coming from the nerd who actually likes doing homework and reading Earnest Hemmingway."

He cursed himself once more for restraining his arms, because he would simultaneously punch Tim and cover his mouth in horror. First, everyone laughs at him. Now, everyone is calling him a nerd. Tim called him a nerd. This must be a fever dream.

"Earnest Hemmingway is a literary treasure, you uncultured swine."

"Whatever. Just get ready or I'm telling Kate who prank called her last month."

Low blow. Jason only vaguely remembered doing that. To say he had been a few drinks deep would be a lie. He had gotten fucking plastered. How everyone thought Damian was the mean one, Jason would never know. Tim was fucking ruthless. Jason would have to remember to recruit him for the annual snowball fight in the Watchtower. And by annual snowball fight, he totally means when he and Dick manage to confiscate Freeze's gun again and aim to embarrass Bruce in front of the other heroes.

"You promised not to! I was drunk, you dick."

"And? I need to go deal with Pyg. PYG I swear to god, if I have to hear him squealing and singing opera one more time I'm going to throw him into a trash compactor."

Okay, that would be fucking hilarious. Jason would totally pay to see Tim do that to the annoying villain. He'd have to thank Bruce for sending Tim after Pyg and not himself, because Jason would probably actually kill him. Then, he decided Bruce was still the supreme cockbite of the hero community and would, instead, thank Babs. He would not be able to handle any of Pyg while he's sick without it ending in murder.

"Fiiiine. I'm getting ready Tiny Tim. Have fun with the Professor."

He heard a faint 'eat a dick' as Tim leapt out of the window. Jason just stared at the ceiling for a few moments before slowly unraveling himself. He seriously hated everyone and everything today. With a long, drawn out groan, he made his way to his dresser to take more medicine. Then, he shambled like the undead corpse he really was to the secret compartment in his wall to retrieve his gear.

Getting all his gear on was more of a hassle when everything ached than he would originally expect it to be. Still, he got it done. As he stuck his domino on with spirit gum, he heard yet another person crawl through his window. He let out an aggravated groan as he turned to glare at the intruder.

"Why can't any of you assholes...use...the door...What the fuck."

Staring at him in shock and fear was none other than the Riddler himself with a sack over his shoulder. It was a decidely awkward staredown neither would forget any time soon. Leave it to the fucking Riddler to accidently climb through Red Hood's bedroom window. In the blink of an eye, they both moved. Jason had his gun trained on the green-clad criminal, right between the eyes. Riddler had a gun of his own pointed at Hood. It was a draw, literally. The vigilante narrowed his eyes in irritation. Really, how much shittier can his day get? Now he'd have to find another place to live because of this puce-colored dickhead.

"I am going to kick your ass so hard your new color scheme is going to be black and blue. Then Nightwing's going to kick your ass for taking his color scheme."

Riddler gulped at the threat but didn't lower his gun. It appeared as if he were shaking. Jason would like to think it was from fear, but he was pretty sure it was from repressing his laughter at Jason's voice. His glare intensified, not that Nygma could see it behind the white-out lenses.

"Then I'm going to kick your ass again. And then I'm going to take your stupid, lanky, noodle body, shove it into a suitcase, shove that suitcase into a car trunk. THEN I'm going to send that car off a cliff."

That got the Riddler to shudder slightly as Red Hood wasn't known for making idle threats, no matter how absurd the threat was. Or how hilariously similar to an asthmatic goose his voice sounded. Still, the Riddler was notorious for having the last word. His pride simply couldn't stand for this. Also, he couldn't keep the laughter bubbling in his throat down any longer. Really, Red Hood sounded hilarious. If he sounded like this all the time, nobody would take him seriously. Jason just mentally groaned. Even the Riddler was laughing at him today. 'Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I'll never recover from this. Ever. Please, death, just take me already.'

"How frightening indeed. I wonder, would you-"

He was cut off from his soon-to-be diatribe by Red Hood's low, almost wheezing voice.

"In a trunk. Off a cliff."

The vigilante certainly was adamant about that bit, it seemed. He also appeared to be pretty sick, which should make this easier. Then again, Riddler also should be able to take on a nine year old in a fight and win, and yet that was proven wrong time and time again, sadly.

"Yes, well, riddle me thi-'

"IN A TRUNK. OFF A CLIFF."

Riddler jumped at the sudden enraged yell as the hulking hero took a threatening step toward him. It was then and there that Riddler re-evaluated his plan.

"There's a bomb in here, bye!"

The villain tossed the bag he was once carrying at the sick man and made his timely escape out the window. Jason caught the bag with flailing hands in an effort to keep the bomb stable. Carefully, he opened the sack and peered at the contents. Well, it is a bomb. A fucking bath bomb. Jason threw the bag in irritation before he ran after the frightened villain. He made it down the fire escape in record time. Then, the vigilante caught site of Riddler shoving someone off their bike and riding away.

"I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR LEPRECHAUN LOOKING ASS, NYGMA!'

There was a high shriek as the man looked behind him to see a rather pissed off Red Hood running after him with impressive speed. He peddled all the harder to get away from the unholy ass kicking waiting for him. He was panting sooner than he'd like to admit.

"Why did I join chess club in high school? I should have went for track."

Though he whined to himself, it seemed Red Hood's gear allowed him to hear what he was saying as just shortly after he heard the man yelling at him in response.

"NERD!"

"HEY! CHESS CLUB IS A RESPECTABLE EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITY!"

Even though Riddler was moderately fearing for his life at the moment, he was also feeling rather indignant about that comment. That uncouth meathead wouldn't know respectability if it bit him in his toned ass. Not that, uh, not that Riddler noticed that his ass was toned or anything. That's just absurd. There was no response to his comment, making the villain turn to look behind him. No one. It seemed he lost his tail. He let out a sigh of relief as he slowed his furious pedaling. Finally, he could catch his breath. Naturally, his luck ran out as just a few moments later, that familiar screaming picked up again.

"BOOK CLUB'S COOLER!"

He turned and did a double take. Red Hood apparently hijacked someone's moped and was now speeding after him. Riddler let out an undignified screech as he resumed his previous pace. Of course, he couldn't let the book club comment go without a retort.

"BOOK CLUB IS FOR THOSE TOO MORONIC TO FORM THEIR OWN OPINION ON MEDIOCRE LITERATURE."

"SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU STRING BEAN LOOKING MOTHERFUCKER."

That is something Riddler would never do unless Red Hood was safely tied up in at least twenty chains, put in an unbreakable cage, and completely paralyzed. The crook was arrogant, not insane. Well, some would disagree, but whatever. They don't know what they're talking about.

"FUCK."

At that, he chanced a glance behind him and noticed Red Hood slowing down. It seemed the moped was out of gas. What luck! He let out a victorious cackle as he peddled his way to victory. It was, however, a short lived victory.

"I'M COMING FOR YOU, BITCHWARD."

Riddler was ready to cry. Of course, he got stuck with the violently murderous and notoriously stubborn Bat. Wait, that described at least half of the Bats. Okay, the Bat that actually murdered people. That should narrow the list down a bit. When he turned around, however, he almost fell off of the stolen bike laughing. The big bad Red Hood was chasing after him on a segway. He was leaning dangerously forward in an effort to go faster. This had to be the slowest high speed chase in history. Riddler had to stare straight ahead to keep from losing it. He looked so ridiculously determined and pissed off on that segway. It was such a hilarious contrast, one could mistake it for a Monty Python skit.

"OH, YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME."

It appeared the segway had died on the hero as well, causing Riddler to laugh even harder and almost fall off yet again. If he kept this up, he'd get caught just from the ridiculousness of this all.

Meanwhile, the civilians, who should be panicking at the site of the two, were, instead, laughing quite loudly. It was very upsetting, actually. Everyone really was laughing at Jason today. This wasn't fair. He threw the piece of shit segway down. Who even rode those anymore? He would have just grappled his way to the rooftop and cut Riddler off down the road but it turns out he forgot his grapple gun at home. And the spare. Figures. Someone upstairs sure hated him today.

He looked around frantically to find something to ride to catch up to the escaping villain. Jason couldn't run the whole way, not feeling the way he did today. Sure, the medicine helped, but he still felt like utter shit and if kept trying to keep pace with the bicycle, he'd hack up a lung from coughing. No vehicles lined the street because they had been moved due to the parade earlier. Great. Nobody kept their bikes outside anymore because they'd get stolen. Hell, he didn't even see a scooter. Then, his eyes landed on something and he let out a long, pained groan. Why? Why him? Why couldn't the sweet embrace of death just choke him out already? Resigned to his fate of being the laughing stock forever, he made his way to the only option left. He had a Lucky Charms imposter to catch and beat the shit out of.

The sound of citizens laughing drew the attention of Dick and Damian, who had been nearby and were worried it was Joker toxin. Turns out, no, it wasn't that. It was Jason being ridiculous. Dick almost fell off the roof laughing as he watched his brother chase the Riddler on every ridiculous vehicle he could get his hands on. He looked over to see Damian recording the event with a growing almost evil grin on his lips. Oh, this was so getting sent to everyone. What really made Dick lose it, however, was when Jason peddled after the villain on a kid's tricycle. Tassles and all. Dick had to sit down as he laughed. Even Dami's rockhard resolve was crumbling as he giggled lightly to himself. Jason would definitely never live this down.

Jason got the sensation that one of his siblings was making fun of him right now. He prayed none of them were seeing this, as he would never get to live it down. Still, he had to catch this asshole one way or another. There was no way in hell Jason was letting him walk, especially after he walked into Jason's apartment AND made him ride a motherfucking segway while he was sick. His bad boy image would never recover. His life was effectively over. Again.

The kid's tricycle he was on (and he felt slightly bad for the kid he took it from) shook dangerously beneath him as he picked up speed going downhill. He was closing in on the Riddler and he grinned menacingly. Okay, so he probably looked just a tad unhinged right now, but can anyone really blame him? Then, he heard a heartstopping popping sound and the tricycle literally fell apart underneath him, sending him tumbling across the asphalt. He lay amidst the scraped pink wreckage and just stared at the dark sky in defeat.

He only looked at his escaping target when Riddler started to laugh loudly only to get cut off by a 'BANG'. It seemed he was laughing so hard, he ran into a sign and knocked himself out. Fantastic. Even worse, Nightwing and Robin swooped in to handcuff the unconscious villain and give him a thumbs up, followed by Dick talking to him loudly.

"Don't worry Hood, we got him!"

Jason just sighed and stared at the sky again, refusing to move. Moments later, the figures of his two brothers stood over him. They were staring judgementally, making fun of him, he just knew it.

"Get up, Hood."

Damian was polite as ever. Still, Jason didn't move. Instead, he looked at the younger hero.

"Do me a favor, get the Batmobile."

If Jason had to take a guess, he'd say Dami just rolled his eyes at him, though it felt as if both brothers were now looking him over critically.

"Your fall, while disgraceful, did not seem too catastrophic. Are you injured?"

"No."

Robin let out an impatient noise as he looked at the growing crowd then back to his 'brother'.

"Then why do you need the Batmobile?"

Jason looked at him with a deathly serious expression.

"I want you to run me over with it."

Damian and Dick were both silent for a moment as they stared at Jason. Then, Damian gave the smallest of smirks as he responsed.

"...Gladly."

Dick whipped his head toward Damian at the affirmation.

"Robin, no! Red Hood, get up. Riddler and the other Rogues are dealt with. You can head home."

Instead of rising, as Dick instructed, Jason gave a mournful sort of shake of the head.

"Can't."

At this point, Dick was ready to just drag his dramatic ass home and toss him in his bed. They really needed to split before the police got here, but Hood didn't seem to want to move any time soon.

"And why is that?"

"Riddler knows where my apartment is."

That caught the eldest hero by surprise.

"Wait, how?"

"He climbed into my bedroom window because SOMEBODY left it open, Dickhead."

Despite the accusatory glare being sent his way, Dick laughed.

"Seriously? That's fucking hilarious."

"Shut up. He threw a bath bomb at me."

The mental image alone had him laughing again. What a jerk.

"Hey, at least it wasn't a real bomb, right?"

Any rebuttal was cut off as an explosion coming from the direction of Jason's apartment shook the ground. All three vigilantes looked toward the steadily rising smoke.

"Holy shit, it was a real bomb."

Jason just closed his eyes and gave up. The sky flashed with lightning and thundercrashed. Within the next moment, rain poured down on the forlorn hero.

"Fuck my second life."

#Shenanigans #my writing #Jason Todd #the batkids

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a-writing-bear · 6 years

Text

[PruCan] Chapter 3: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/24905436

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

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Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU: College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature: Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.)

“…..Hey! I should hire you to be my animator!”

Gilbert had gushed out the words as If the suggestion held no consequences. It wasn’t easy to agree to accept a role with little to none reward on top of the already exorbitant piles of coursework which tormented any student…that and the pure fact animation took lots of time- time that some would say they did not own or could not conceivably plan out to section off their talents. Art was supposed to be fun, rewarding, fulfilling. It was always an escape for Matthew and to even consider using any free time (something he did not really have nowadays) on projects that weren’t collectively his own sounded like a plunge into self-afflicted failure.

The last time he dabbled in a project that took over his free time, it was a family chore; almost everything involving Alfred felt like a chore. He had been strapped into the position of creating a concept image for another one of that horrible engineering thingy-ma-bobs Alfred designed. No pay and definitely no reward unless you regard crushing hugs and endless “I knew you could do it bro!” as a deserved gift. It was gruelling. It was work, not exactly ‘art’…

Still…This storyboard contained copious amounts of promise, something I haven’t seen in a while. Sure, Results may not prove worthy and it could be an utter failure, heck his ‘director’ might be a hellish nightmare to deal with (‘He reminds me of Alfred…not necessarily a good sign…’) in spite of all of this Matthew’s slight weakness came into play:

Working with Gilbert was a risk.

Danger. Potentially hazardous to his schedule and academic prospects. That sounded hot fun. To the common public, Matthew was unrecognisable. They, understandably, only saw a fellow who resembled a prodigy- the undesirable sibling that was mentioned in a footnote. A small detail in the background of a portrait of someone much more important. If he was noticed and thoroughly acknowledged, the most people understood was that he was soft-spoken, he was very good at art and was respectful of others.

That’s true but horrifically, Matthew was, realistically, extremely bored. Bored and so unmotivated for anything but art. The craving for something more than just paint on a basic canvas was evident, and his creative mind had been screeching for something more tantalisingly sustaining. Call it what you may, sadistic to his sleep and/or work process or a terrible decision to his report card, Matthew loved risky things. Like hockey.

Maybe that’s why he liked art? His parents responded negatively to his progression into art as it seemed dangerous; a traditional occupation like becoming doctor was bound to be a safe job prospect rather than a ‘starving’ artist. It held so much value. And once again…

Gilbert was a Risk.

That was a factor that changed his hesitant decision to not take the job, taking up the offer seemed like the only real choice. Being slightly ‘unsafe’ sounded…unchained. Of course he would have rules and deadlines but still, it was a creative process that he could let take over his uninterested mind. He was going to do it.

“Okay. Yeah that-That sounds good-“

“Wait?! Really Holy shit danke!”

“I didn’t finish” Matthew's voice had taken a more serious tone as he announced his guidelines, “If I agree, I want something in return and I want a freer rein on your story. I want to be able to change some scene ideas, we work as equals on this or else I don’t do it.”

The media student blinked in reply blankly before nodded his head in understanding,

“…so Mattie, What do you want in return?”

Contemplating on what he wanted, the blonde man debated over what could be a gain from Gilbert. At first, he pondered over getting the media student to buy his coffee every morning so he wouldn’t have to leave his bed early but the responsible voice in his head told him that would be stupid. Laundry after his hockey would be useful but then again, it would be weird having someone know about his hockey obsession in detail...He doubted the paler man knew any good weed dealer so that was out of the picture (Besides, his Dutch childhood friend, Tim, already sources that for Matthew).…that and a near-to-stranger acquaintance should definitely not be involved with his- rather unsavoury- habits

“Can I use you as a Model?”

If it was possible to be strangled by silence, Matthew would have been killed that very moment. In the process of getting ready to blurt out a very traditional Canadian ‘sorry, it’s alright to say no’ Gilbert had narrowed his eyes before eerily nodding for himself as if he had just made a deal with a devil he might regret years down the line. The two boys scrambled to sorting through the intricate plan that the albino has created, marking key scenes and a draft template Matt would draw digitally later on in the ‘calmer’ hours of Friday- if anything like that actually existed, Matthew had convinced himself that the paper drawing would be relatively smooth-sailing to replicate. Sharing toothy grins and even the occasional shuffle and chuckle over new concepts, excitedly the boys exchanged numbers and sorted out deadline dates.

Conversations on 'actual' work diminished and at some point, Matthew’s unfinished summer painting was forgotten; as well as Gilbert’s laptop lid closing, the entire device tucked and buried under paperwork. Bands, Movies and stories flew from each other’s heads into the reciprocating ears back and forth. It felt natural. It felt comforting. It felt nice. Just occupying the former exhaustion of usual loneliness with new found company felt indulgent, really this was something the blonde had been yearning for the past few isolated months (He had friends just not those who were exactly ‘easy’ to talk to). As the boys fondly conversed over everyday idle chat the soft beat of Motion City's Soundtrack 'The Future Freaks Me out' played on- Just as Mattie Noticed from the band shirt, Gilbert had the same taste in music. The thrill of it all sounded lame when he realised he was excited over having a decent conversation, at this point 'what could really get in the way of this perfect afternoon of random sketching and laughable jokes?'

“Heyyyyyy sib….so I was wond-“ Well. The peace lasted while it could. A drastically loud boisterous voice pierced through the solace. Midway the voice seemed to die and as Matthew looked up he realised his newfound peace would be ruined for the rest of the evening, at least that's what could be interpreted when he witnessed his brother's expression:

"WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?" Alfred had choked out and had nearly completely crumpled whatever paper he had been holding. Wincing at the aggressive yet usually intrusive nature and tone of his brother Matthew leant forward with head in his hands and let out what could only describe as a disappointed moan and sgot up stumbling towards his brother.

"Has anyone ever uprightly told you how dramatic you are? I doubt Arth-"

“HEY HEY NO WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING ARTHUR RIGHT NOW-MATTIE WHAT IS HE DOING IN HERE?!”

If anything, Gilbert was less insulted by being referred to as ‘he’, the majority of his feeling of discomfort stemmed from the fact Alfred never mentioned he had a cute ass brother. Tempted to interject the one-sided conversation, he spectated the two squabbling siblings with the cuter one physically holding Alfred at the door by the shoulders. Wait- Is Matthew Canadian?- Actually, that's a stupid question of course he is...It was obvious considering the boy's room was adorned with RED fucking EVERYWHERE, the occasional hockey sweater on the wall and crooked postcards of typical tourist hotspots like Niagara Falls (Not to mention Canadian flags on any item possible as if some cheesy gift Canadian tourist gift shop- Gilbert had noticed even the abandoned pens on the desk had maple leaf emblems)

But that didn't really add up. The media major tried to do the calculations in his head:

Alfred = American? Yes That's right...

Matthew = Canadian? Well duh, they discussed that earlier and the room...

Matthew = Alfred Brother???

"Um So...if Mattie is Canadian then how is Alfred Americ-"

"IT'S A FAMILY THING" Both of the two mumbled out as they continued to fuss over each other. Finally, Matthew had stopped Alfred rude gawking and had started lecturing Al over god-knows-what.

*Buzz* *Buzz*

From his jeans pocket, the Prussian could feel the 'so-very-important' calls of his younger brother, deciding that continuing his project with Matthew would be hopeless with both Alfred and an impatient Ludwig he promptly decided to slip out passed Alfred and bid farewell to the cutie from the room next door. Was I imagining it or was Matthew blushing? Oh verdammt.

#prucan #aph canada #aph prussia #SoftSpokenCalling #prussia x canada #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #Hetalia Fanfiction #fanfic #multific #college au #alternate universe

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