#sam again!!! sam manson stan account

[britcision]

A second WIP Wednesday in this chapter, but gods willing and the creek don’t rise we will not see a third! I’m just trying to see if I can squish both Harley and Constantine in at the end… and the answer is probably not 😔

But, that’s what next chapter is for! And for now y’all can enjoy an excerpt from the tail end of this one! All good things must come to an end

————————

Yeah This Might As Well Happen

As Harley followed Bruce out of the room, Sam’s phone began buzzing dramatically in her pocket. Abandoning her quest for the thermos, she pulled it out and glanced down.

Grinned wickedly. She’d been expecting this for a while now actually.

“Aw, look, my parents saw our selfies on Twitter,” she cooed sarcastically, Manson Party Voice making a brief return.

Danny scooted just a little away from the still buzzing phone.

“So are you gonna get that?” He asked as Alfred brought him a perfectly reheated plate. “What? Oh, thanks.”

Sam shrugged, hit speakerphone, and set it on the table. They’d posted those pictures pretty much solely for the incoming reaction.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” She said sweetly, still in her public facing voice.

Her mother did not sound nearly as composed.

“SAMANTHA. Where ARE you?! What are you wearing?! Where are your clothes and WHY, in the name of all that’s good, are you anywhere near HARLEY QUINN?! Have you been kidnapped?!”

Sam rolled her eyes hard enough that Tucker faked a fatal injury across the table. She flipped him off as Tim and Duke stifled laughs.

“Yes, mother, I have been kidnapped and just answered my phone completely normally. I’m at the Waynes’,” she added quickly, before her mother could jump to conclusions.

And gave her some new conclusions to jump to instead, but who cared. Still, something seemed to be sticking in her mom’s mind.

“With Harley Quinn?” She asked suspiciously after a moment’s silence.

Which, to be fair, was kind of a good point.

“Apparently she’s a family friend? Like Grandma and Ivy,” Sam added delicately, a vicious satisfaction rising through her.

She’d gotten to say her piece at the gala yesterday and had thought she was done, but. Well. Years of restriction and so on.

She was definitely still having fun winding her parents up.

Her mom’s sharp intake of breath was clearly audible even over the phone, and then the shouting started again.

“Samantha MANSON do not even THINK about going anywhere with that woman! You have responsibilities! School! Your work! We’re coming to pick you up RIGHT NOW, and… where are your CLOTHES?!”

Alfred cleared his throat from behind them, where he’d stayed from delivering Danny’s dinner. Sam half turned and he raised a brow, inclining his head slightly.

She scooted her chair out of the way to let him get closer to the phone, waving a hand.

“If I may interject,” Alfred said calmly, not a trace that anything was even slightly amiss, “the young lady’s clothes are in the dryer at present. They will be finished shortly.”

Another long silence. Her mom probably realizing that Sam had her on speaker. And that she would still be on speaker the next time she spoke.

Finally she choked out a terse, “thank you. I do hope she has been behaving herself. We will be there to pick you up in half an hour, Sammy, and we will Have Words.”

Which Sam kinda doubted, given where the hotel was and how long it had taken Danny and Bruce to get back, but time would tell.

At least they weren’t hiring a helicopter.

It sucked to have to leave, but she’d have needed to head out soon anyway. Her flight back to university would be leaving this evening, and at least this way she could hang out with the others until her parents arrived.

No reason not to needle them more though.

“Aw but mom, I’m having such a good time hanging out with Cass,” she sighed, switching from Party to Heartfelt Woe expertly.

Down beyond Steph, Cass stifled a giggle. It clearly sent Sam’s mom into another spiral of conflicting emotions; delight, hope, ecstasy, and ongoing horror at the presence of Harley.

Who, technically, was no longer present in the room, but telling her mom that would only make her feel better, so Sam wasn’t gonna bother.

Honestly, if she wanted to run away and be an ecoterrorist with Pamela Isley, she could just ask Grandma to text her. She didn’t need kidnapping.

Still, apparently the risk of a close contact with Poison Ivy outweighed her mom’s desire to see her cozy up with the Waynes.

It’d have been real sweet if it had been a worry for Sam’s health instead of a worry about what Sam would do to other peoples’ health. The lack of trust stung, truly.

“We’ll be there in half an hour, Sammy. Get your clothes back on and say thank you for having you,” her mom warned, tone sharp and clipped.

And then hung up the phone before anyone could argue, because while she never used to listen to Sam before, she did somehow still know her. Ah well.

Sam sighed, stuffing the phone back into her borrowed pocket.

“Guess my parole has ended. I’ve gotta get back for my next semester anyway, but you have my number?” She asked Steph, looking from her back to Cass.

Both women nodded enthusiastically, Steph sighing and slumping forward into the table.

“Do you really have to go? Harley probably won’t be done with Brucie by then, you’ll miss the best part!”

But in all honesty, Sam wasn’t too upset about that. She’d made her feelings perfectly clear via thermos, and if Jason wasn’t satisfied with Bruce’s real apology she could always come back.

So she shrugged, grinning.

“Guess it’s my turn to get the video recap once it’s all over. You guys’ll film it for me, right?” She asked, looking from Danny to Tucker.

Both of whom gave her a thumbs up.

“We should make a new group chat,” Tucker mused eagerly, already pulling his phone up, “one for all of us.”

“Then we’d know which galas you were coming to!” Steph agreed at once, her own phone magically appearing in hand.

Dick snickered, leaning back in his seat.

“Said like Steph’s ever let Bruce drag her to one against her will,” he teased and Steph flipped him off.

“Hey, if you’d had the good sense not to let him adopt you you wouldn’t have to do them either,” Steph told him primly. Dick rolled his eyes.

“I’m his ward, not adopted,” he argued mostly futilely, and Sam snickered.

“And still have to go apparently. Doesn’t the ward thing end once you’re a legal adult?” She asked innocently.

Dick gave her a deadpan stare.

“Ma’am, if you want to try and wrest an orphan from the hands of Bruce Wayne you be my fucking guest, I gave up years ago.”

Which, fair. Their rifts had been legendary enough to make the circuit. She toasted him with her phone and settled back.

“Point taken. If being a cop didn’t make him give you up nothing will,” she added slyly, and Dick mimed grievous injury, slumping forward onto the table as the others laughed.

Grinning her triumph, Sam turned back to Alfred.

“So if you just show me where the laundry room is I can grab my clothes?” She offered, trying yet again to be helpful.

Being from a rich family didn’t mean having no damn manners, no matter how often it looked like it.

The old man gave her another of his extremely arch expressions, an eyebrow rising as if to question her impertinence. He had to be fucking with her.

“I shall bring your clothes to the downstairs bathroom on this hall when they are done so that you may change, Miss Manson,” he said coolly.

She’d never heard anything like it.

It didn’t sound like he was upset or offended the way people usually did when their voices iced over that sharply. Just… not an ounce of wiggle room.

Not a sliver of a hint that anything he was saying would not happen exactly as he’d decreed it. He sounded more imperious than a king, and she’d seen those.

Sam kinda imagined that’d be what Clockwork would sound like if she ever met the guy.

Duke misinterpreted her decidedly impressed stare with a wry chuckle, apparently misinterpreting her expression.

Fair, since he couldn’t know she was comparing him to the living manifestation of Time.

Well. Ghostly manifestation. Same difference.

“Miss Manson’s probably the best you’ll get out of him,” Duke said almost apologetically, grinning. “It’s gonna be that or Miss Samantha.”

Which admittedly was enough to make her turn to face him, curiosity peaked.

“What do you mean?” She asked, glancing back up at Alfred.

She couldn’t read anything but serenity in his face, but mild amusement practically radiated off him. She’d have to ask Danny what he saw in his aura.

Dick took this one too, sitting back in his seat and grinning at her.

“Alfie’s serious about the whole “proper titles and full names” thing. I’ve been trying for almost twenty years to make him call me “Dick”, and I think he’d be slower to give that up than Bruce’d be to unadopt me,” he explained cheerfully, arm tossed over the back of his chair.

Alfred treated him to a slowly raised eyebrow too.

“As you say, Master Richard,” he agreed placidly and Sam pressed her lips together on a smile.

She didn’t have to turn around to know exactly what face Danny would be making. The last thing he needed was another scary old man full naming him.

And right on cue…

“Uh… can I specifically request Mister Fenton then?” Danny asked and sure enough when she turned, yup, he even had his hand in the air like a child.

Alfred treated him to that calm stare as well.

“May I ask why, Mister Daniel?” He asked, clearly prodding despite every line of both face and posture oozing nothing but polite respect.

Danny fully flinched, which was interesting. He barely reacted whenever Vlad said his name.

Sam adjusted her opinion of Alfred along a couple “scarier than Vlad” levels.

“I have name-related trauma from another billionaire who refuses to call me anything but that,” Danny admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s a really not-fun association.”

“Vlad again?” Tim asked from across the table, sounding sympathetic.

Danny pulled a face at him, sort of grimacing more than a smile.

“Oh yeah. And let’s just say he also does it in super bad situations, so I’d be happier to just never hear it again.”

Sam peaked back over her shoulder at Alfred, wondering what he’d do with this news.

If Danny was gonna be a fixture in Jason’s life (and let’s be honest, he’d be a fixture in Jason’s bedroom by the end of the month), and Jason was a fixture in Alfred’s… they’d see more of each other.

Everyone knew Bruce had been basically raised by Alfred. If he was half as emotionally constipated…

But there was an actual human expression on the old man’s face now, and it looked a damn sight like shame. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

“My apologies, Mister Fenton. Would you perhaps prefer Mister Danny?” He asked, which would have seemed completely innocuous on its own.

Dick slammed both fists into the table, making half the table burst into giggles.

“Fucking SERIOUSLY?! Is it just me! This is bullshit Alfie!” He declared dramatically.

Tim looked equally gobsmacked, jaw on the proverbial floor as he stared at Alfred, and even Steph looked put out and impressed.

Danny, deeply confused but relieved, stuck his tongue out at Dick.

“Hey, if you want another overly possessive and creepy billionaire determined to control your life you’re welcome to take him off my hands,” he declared smugly, and Sam snorted a laugh.

There was a decided devilry in young Damian’s face too, which vanished almost immediately after it appeared as the youngest spoke up.

“Honestly, Richard, you must admit that Danny’s situation is decidedly more grave than your own,” he said simply, a strong undercurrent of smugness under the words.

Tim threw both hands into the air so hard he almost tipped his chair over.

“Him too?! Come the fuck ON!” He proclaimed to the world at large as Duke snorted half a glass of water out of his nose in a choked laugh.

Tim gave him a hearty slap on the back that was probably supposed to help, the younger boy still wheezing and gasping for air, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.

There was clearly something of an inside joke going on, and it wasn’t exactly a complicated one.

Danny had already settled back in his seat, perfectly happy with the consternation he’d caused, and Sam joined him.

Watching the dramatics of the extended Wayne clan was even better at home than it had been at the gala. For a show this good, she’d have bought tickets.

———————

Damian will probably go straight back to last names, but even he has that secret Wayne ability to commit to the bit 😏

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion

Oh shit we lost someone today I swear @blacksea21090 used to be taggable :( that’s not a fun discovery

#danny fenton dead and loving it #wip wednesday #chapter 11 i think #second excerpt #sam again!!! sam manson stan account #just a lil lick and some lil fuckery 😏 #shit i gotta go catch up on my comments if it’s nearly new chapter time