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#tim immediately after seeing that: “WAIT I FORGOT MY PHONE IN DICKS CAR FUCK”
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Won’t You Stay A While? - fic
Characters: Ric Grayson, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake Summary: Ric did not expect to find a child sitting on the hood of his cab. Damian did expect to get his brother back. A/N: I kind of imagine Damian puked in the bathroom. Tim and Damian don’t speak on the way home, but him, Cass and Jason kind of become helicopter parents to him, especially after Tim tells Jason and Cass what Ric’s last words to them were. Inspired by ‘Hold Me While You Wait’ by Lewis Capaldi. Very Damian and amnesiac Dick song, it hurts my heart a lot.
~~
The bar’s bell chimed as the door opened, followed by: “Yo, Ric!”
Ric reluctantly took his eyes off Bea, looking towards the man at the door. A regular, who Ric often found himself playing barside therapist for.
“Hey, Lenny.”
“Your cab out front?”
“Know another cabbie who frequents this bar?”
Lenny snorted a raspy laugh. “Well, there’s a kid sittin’ on the hood. Told him to beat it, and he told me to shove it up my ass. Then he settled in like he owned the car himself. So, you may have a problem on your hands.”
Ric sighed. “Great. Did he say who he was?”
“I didn’t ask, and he wasn’t very forthcoming with the conversation.” Lenny shrugged. He clapped a hand on Ric’s shoulder as he passed, making a bee-line for the bathroom. “Looked like one of the local street rats, but I sensed a lil’ Gotham accent there, so good luck with that headache.”
A local gang member, even better. Ric groaned and pushed back from the bar, giving Bea a wave and already defeated smile as he backed towards the door.
He shoved at the door with his back and zipped up his jacket as he spun towards the road. The kid was easy to spot, all dark clothes against the bright yellow of the cab. His knees were curled to his chest, and the hood up over his head, shadowing his face.
“Hey, kid!”
The boy looked up, and Ric froze midstep.
Aw hell.
He’d have preferred the gang member.
Instead, it was the Wayne kid. Damian. One of the ones there when he woke up from his coma. One of the ones he couldn’t remember for the life of him.
“Damian?” He murmured as he approached, both to call the kid and ask himself if that was truly his name. Damian just stared at him, dark, near unnatural circles under his eyes, face set in a fierce frown. “What are you doing here?”
And he remembered the kid being haughty and confident. Snotty, practically. But here…here, he looked lost, exhausted. Sick, almost.
“I…” Damian murmured. He looked past Ric and narrowed his eyes in confusion. “I don’t know.”
“Does Wayne know you’re here?”
“No.” Damian said shortly. “And if he does, he doesn’t care.”
Ric didn’t know what that meant. Sensed it was a can of worms that he did not want to open.
“…Is there someone I can call to come get you? Take you home?”
Damian shrugged. “Probably.”
Ric found himself closing his eyes and sighing. From his brief time with the Wayne family since waking up, he remembered this kid was…weird. Distant. Difficult.
“…Well, then, are you hungry?” Ric asked. “Maybe some food’ll make you feel better.”
“What makes you think I feel bad?”
“Come on.” Ric scoffed. “Came all the way down to Bludhaven to sit on some guy’s cab because you’re having a fantastic day?”
Damian smirked a little at the sarcasm.
“Listen. I know a cool little café down the street. Great gelato milkshakes.” Ric tried. Damian wouldn’t make eye contact. Just remained curled up on himself. Ric huffed and grabbed Damian’s wrist, unwinding it and giving it a gentle pull. “You just gotta try it. Cheer you right up.”
To Ric’s surprise, Damian slid off the car easily, and immediately fell into step with him down the sidewalk. Ric found himself smiling as he led the way.
As they walked, despite his attitude on the car, he found Damian continually sneaking peaks at him, but then shyly looking away if he thought Ric was looking back.
“The scar’s pretty ugly, huh?” Ric asked.
“I have worse.” Damian countered. Then quieter, “You helped sew a few up, actually.”
“Gross.” Ric stuck his tongue out dramatically. “Where’d you get them?”
“On the streets.” Damian answered slyly, like Ric was supposed to understand what that meant. He held his hand out. “Though this one on my thumb was from when you were trying to teach me how to make apple dumplings. You forgot to tell me how to hold the fruit when I was cutting it, and I almost sliced my thumb off. Alfred banned you from the kitchen then.”
“…Huh.” Ric thought out loud. His stomach swirled in discomfort. Something that, if he thought about it, felt a little bit like jealousy. Maybe. He pointed up the street, to the café’s sign. “Sounds equal parts hilarious and almost traumatizing.”
Damian openly stared at him now. Then sighed and looked at his feet. “…Yeah.”
At the café, a waitress waved at them to pick a booth themselves, and that she’d be with them in a moment. Ric veered towards a nearby table and Damian followed, sitting across from him silently.
“…So…” Ric hummed, bouncing his fingers off each other. “What’d you say you came down here for again?”
“I didn’t.” Damian replied simply. He didn’t offer anything else.
“Then…what brings you to town?” Ric asked. “I mean…gotta be something.”
Damian said nothing. Seemed to just sink further into his black hoodie.
“You and your dad fight?”
Nothing.
“…You and the old butler guy fight?”
Damian just blinked at his fork.
“Something to do with your…you know, night life?”
Damian just stared at the table.
“Look, dammit…!” Ric suddenly slammed a fist on the table. Damian jumped, and the waitress who had yet to serve them looked up from the cash register. Ric pursed his lips and leaned forward to whisper. “Look, I’m trying to be nice here, okay? Can’t you give me anything? I mean, you know I don’t want to…”
Ric didn’t finish the thought. You know I don’t want to have anything to do with you or your family.
By the look on Damian’s face, he probably didn’t need to anyway.
Damian just watched him. In his flinch at Ric’s outburst, his hood had fallen from his head. Those circles under his eyes looked so much darker in the open sunlight. His skin so much paler. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in ages, or eaten. And those scars he’d mentioned, Ric could see a few poking out of the neck of the hoodie.
He did not look well.
“I thought…” Damian breathed, then blinked and shook his head, seemingly berating himself.
“You thought what?” Ric asked. Damian shook his head again, leaning back in the booth and looking out the window. “You thought what, Damian?”
Damian kept his mouth shut, though seemed to suddenly be blinking heavily.
“Look if you don’t tell me what’s going on, or why you’re here, I…” Ric sighed, leaned back himself. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
Damian closed his eyes at that.
And he remained silent, even when the waitress finally came over. She seemed cautious, and Ric supposed he didn’t blame her, not after he punched the table for no reason. He gave her his best smile anyway, ordering gelato milkshakes for the both of them. She wrote the order on her pad, sparing Damian a glance before spinning away.
Ric was still watching her walk away when he heard a quiet: “…I thought you would remember.”
He looked back at Damian. He’d opened his eyes now, and they were misty, ready to overflow.
“What?”
“It’s been weeks since you woke up. I know Father was pushy and you ran from that. I get it. I get that.” Damian tried. His voice was shaking, and he was trying so hard to control it. “But I thought enough time had passed.”
There was the sound of a buzz, and Damian shifted, pulling out a cell phone. He glanced at the message, but scoffed and placed the phone face down on the table between them.
“…I thought if I came here, if you saw me, I could help you trigger a memory or something. Anything.” Damian breathed. The tears overflowed instantly. “But I’m not enough. I’m not good enough. Again.”
“Damian-”
“After everything you’ve done for me, I can’t do this one single fucking thing for you!” Damian shrieked. The waitress looked up again from the counter. Other customers glanced up too. “I can’t…”
Damian fell into a coughing fit, he was crying so hard.
“…You were the only one who ever cared about me, and I can’t bring you back.” Damian cried. “I can’t bring Dick Grayson back and I don’t…I don’t know if that means you never actually cared about me in the first place or if I’m just more worthless than I thought.”
Ric glanced at the others in the café, everyone blatantly staring now.
“Damian, look…” But Damian was already shaking his head.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Suddenly he was scooting out of the booth. “Forget it.”
“No, you’re okay, it’s-”
But Damian was already running across the restaurant towards the bathroom. The slam and lock of the bathroom door echoed through the silent dining room, and Ric looked out the window, instead at all the patrons now silently judging him.
After a moment, Ric sighed, and reached across the table for Damian’s forgotten phone. He clicked the screen on, and read the message that had been left.
From someone named Todd, reading: Where the fuck are you kid????
Ric waited a moment, to see if that name rang a bell. When it didn’t, he sighed and press the call button.
~~
Damian came out of the bathroom forty-five minutes later, and found the booth he’d been sitting in empty.
Not surprising, he thought. He wouldn’t want to stick around and wait for himself either.
But then the waitress appeared next to him, holding out a Styrofoam cup. “Your friend is outside.” She whispered sweetly. “He had me put your drink in the fridge for you for whenever you’re ready.”
Damian nodded his thanks and took the cup. The woman smiled and pointed towards the window, where Ric could be seen sitting on the curb outside. Damian swallowed the lump in his throat and moved towards the door.
He sat down next to Ric silently, staring intensely at the straw poking out of the cup. Ric was bent between his knees, fiddling with the shoestrings on his boots.
“I wasn’t lying – their shakes are the best in town. Even a boring flavor like vanilla.” Ric hummed almost jovially. Damian nodded, absently rocking the cup back and forth, feeling the weight of it shift between his fingers, the chill escaping into his fingers.
After another moment, Ric sat back up and sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at Damian, then shifted, digging in his pocket, and pulling out the cell phone.
“You left this on the table.” Ric said. “I…I called that Todd guy, who texted you.”
Damian pursed his lips as he took the phone back. “What did he say?”
“Well, he didn’t sound thrilled to hear me. Or to hear this is where you were.” Ric answered with a wince. He glanced at his watch. “He should be here in about an hour or so.”
“Okay.” Damian responded monotonously. “You can go, if you want. No need to be late for your next shift on my account.”
“I don’t work today.” Ric countered just as blandly. “Also – I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“You already did once. What’s once more?” Damian drawled bitterly. Ric didn’t respond to it, knowing Damian meant the amnesia. His decision to leave Gotham and cut Bruce Wayne and his associates out of his life. For exactly what he didn’t say inside the café. But to his surprise, Damian frowned almost instantly. “I’m…I’m sorry. That was rude. I know…none of this is your fault.”
“…I’m sorry your brother’s gone, Damian.” Ric looked to the sky. “I’m sorry I can’t…be who you need me to be.”
“No one ever is.” Damian exhaled. He finally shoved the straw in his mouth. “Not even Dick Grayson was, in some ways. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
The statement left a bad taste in Ric’s mouth. “Regardless – I’m not leaving you here by yourself. You’re what, ten?”
“Thirteen.”
“Close enough.” Ric shrugged. “I’m waiting here with you until your ride gets here. And that’s final.”
“Whatever you say.” Damian shrugged. He slurped on his straw, and hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right, this is good.”
“Told you.”
Damian didn’t answer that. Took a few more sips of the drink. Smacked his lips and whispered, “I’m sorry I came here.”
A car was passing right as he said it, and Ric almost missed it. He had a feeling that was the point. He looked down at him, and once again, Damian wouldn’t meet his eye.
“…I’m not.” He decided. Without warning, he threw his arm around Damian’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. “I don’t know what our relationship was before but…it was nice to meet you. Again. Officially. You seem like a pretty cool kid.”
Damian immediately stiffened in the hold, but didn’t pull away, and he struck Ric as one to do so if he wished to.
“…Is this okay?”
Damian thought a moment, and then just as suddenly – he relaxed into the hold, and even leaned his head on Ric’s shoulder.
“…Yeah.” Damian’s voice was already trembling. After a second, Ric saw a tear drip onto the lid of the milkshake. “This is fine.”
“Okay. Just tell me if it’s not.” Ric murmured, running his arm along Damian’s shoulder. After a moment, in an attempt to give Damian a semblance of privacy, he gently lifted his hood back over his head. The boy gasped a sob in the mockery of a thanks.
“…I miss you.” Damian wailed after a moment. Softly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it, let alone think it. “I miss you so much.”
All Ric could say was, “I know.” And “I’m sorry, kid.”
Damian said nothing else for the rest of the hour they waited, so Ric didn’t either. Just watched the cars as they drove by, waiting for anyone who looked like the contact picture that popped up when he called the one named Todd. Rubbed Damian’s shoulder every so often to offer some comfort.
Damian just tried to calm down enough to drink his milkshake.
Eventually, a car pulled up on the other side of the street, and a teenager who couldn’t have been much older than Damian got out. It wasn’t Todd for sure, but Damian sat up at the sight of him anyway. As the teen crossed the street towards him, he seemed to be hit with a wave of relief.
“There you are.” The teenager breathed as Damian stood.
“Why’d he send you?” Damian snapped, but there didn’t appear to be any malice behind it. He also didn’t seem that annoyed when the other wrapped him in a quick hug.
“Because it was literally taking the rest of them – Goliath and Titus included – to stop Bruce from coming down here himself to get you and check on…” The boy trailed off and glanced at Ric, still sitting on the curb. “…Thanks for watching out for him, Mr. Grayson.”
“My pleasure. Kind of.” He gave an awkward smile. “…Did I know you?”
The boy looked sad, and Ric frowned at the look. He was so, so tired of that look.
“You did.” But that’s all he offered. “Name’s Tim.”
“Tim.” Ric repeated. It didn’t register. “You’re not the one I called.”
“No, Jason’s our older brother.” Tim gave as an explanation. He paused for a moment and glanced at Damian. “You have him in your phone as Todd, right?”
Damian nodded.
“Right, yeah. He was…busy. So I came instead.” Tim tried. “Do you want picture proof that I’m not here kidnapping him or something…?”
“No, no. I have a feeling Damian wouldn’t be standing here if you were.” Ric stood himself, shoved his hands in his pockets. “So…I guess we’re good.”
“Guess so. Thanks again.” Tim instantly whirled Damian around towards the car. “Take care, Mr. Grayson. And I know Bruce always said it to you before but…if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”
Ric nodded silently, and gave Damian a quick wave. Damian didn’t return it. In fact, since Tim arrived, Damian had not even looked at him.
When they were just hitting the yellow line separating the lanes, Ric called, “Damian?”
Damian glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot and red.
“You’re not worthless. So don’t let anyone make you think you are, okay? Not even me.” He smiled softly. “And get some sleep or something.”
Both Ric and Tim waited for Damian to give a response, but when he didn’t, Tim just turned him back towards the car, a far too fancy looking thing. As they reached the other side of the street, Ric listened as Tim carefully whispered, “Are you okay…?”
Damian shook his head. Tried to rub nonchalantly at his eyes.
Ric turned and started walking back to the bar before they even got in the car.
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huilian · 4 years
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Ring… Ring…
Ugh. Who’s calling at- Steph checks her alarm clock- one p.m. on a Saturday? 
Huh. Okay. Maybe a lot of people are going to be calling at one p.m. on a Saturday. 
Steph groans. How is this her life? Going on patrol until 4 a.m. practically every night, then going to class, and then her training sessions and gear check-up. Not to mention the open cases she would have. It’s no wonder that she’s asleep at one p.m. on a Saturday.
Bats, she swears. They snuck up on her without her realizing and before she knows it, she’s one of them. 
Steph gropes her nightstand for her phone and puts it on her ears. “Hello?” she mumbles out. 
The ringtone answers her. 
Shit. She forgot to actually answer the call. 
Squinting from the phone’s light, Steph slides the ‘accept call’ button and then put it back to her ears. “Yeah?” she mumbles again. 
“Hello, Stephanie,” Bruce’s voice answers her. What did she do now? “I’m wondering if you need any transportation to go to the Manor tonight.”
Wait. Hold up. What transportation? Why does she need to go to the Manor tonight? 
Steph frowns. She’s not missing any cases, is she?
Steph bites her lips, not wanting another lecture from Bruce if her missing a case is the reason she’s being summoned to the Manor, but then, if a lecture is the reason why, Bruce isn’t going to say the Manor, much less ask if she needs transportation. He’s just going to order her to be in the Cave before patrol tonight and be done with it. 
Steph decides to ask, “Why am I going to the Manor tonight?”
Silence greets her. Huh. It seems that Bruce is as confused as she is. 
A rustle on the background, before Dick’s voice comes out of her phone. “Hey, Steph, this is Dick. We have that gala tonight? You’re invited?” 
“What gala?” Steph is getting even more confused now. “I don’t know about any galas. Much less being invited to one.”
“Hold up,” Dick says. An argument follows, but Steph is too sleepy and tired to try to parse out the entirety of the argument from the bits and pieces she can hear. She just lets the argument wash over her. 
Finally, Bruce asks, “Have I sent you the invitation for tonight’s gala, Stephanie?”
“Nope,” Steph answers, too tired to rack her mind for an invitation, but still very confident of her answer. She would notice an invitation to a Wayne Gala. 
Her mom would notice an invitation to a Wayne Gala. 
“Ah,” Bruce says. A moment later, her phone pings again, and Steph, eyes still squinting from the phone’s light -seriously, why do they make phone screens so bright?- opens the message and reads it. 
It’s an invitation. 
To the Wayne Gala. For tonight. 
Which Bruce apparently forgot to send to her. 
Damn it, Bruce. 
“Hi, Steph, this is Dick again. Sorry for Bruce being, for lack of a better word, a dick. We know it’s super last minute, and you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. We’ll blame the whole thing on Bruce.”
Steph reads the invitation again. A gala at the Wayne Manor, tonight, at 8 p.m., to raise money and awareness for innocent families of criminals. So that’s why they want her to come. 
She doesn’t want to go. She really doesn’t want to go. She doesn’t want to be poked and prodded and interrogated by the upper class of Gotham. She especially doesn’t want them to look at her with a mixture of pity and disgust that only the wealthy can perfect. 
She mumbles something to the phone in line with that. She doesn’t really know what she actually said, but Dick seems to get the gist, because he says, “Alright then, Steph. Have a good day. I’ll tell Tim and Cass and Damian that you won’t be coming. Like I said, we’ll blame the whole thing on Bruce. It is his fault. I’ll see you after the gala for patrol!”
Steph grunts something that could be charitably called a goodbye before shutting down the phone. She’s going back to sleep. 
***
Wait. Did Dick say Cass is going to be there?
***
She’s going to the gala. Damn it all to hell, but she’s going to the gala. Cass is there, and she hasn’t seen her in ages, so Steph, despite everything in her mind telling her not to, is going to the gala. 
The only problem is that her entire makeup stash is empty. Don’t ask her why. She also doesn’t know. 
Sure, she can go makeup-less. It’ll make a statement, yada-yada-yada, but she doesn’t want to be prodded and interrogated anymore than she already will be. Women wear make-up to galas, and those who don’t will be asked why, etc. etc. etc. Steph doesn’t have the energy to defend that to an entire room full of pricks. 
So she’s going to need make-up, but she doesn’t have any of it. Like seriously. Not even her foundation and lipstick, which she knows she has a lot of. 
Oh. She lent them to Kara for a case a couple of days ago. Damn it. 
She can ask for her mom’s but, her mom’s makeup is so different from hers. 
Wait. She’s doing this to spend some time with her best friend. She can just ask for Cass’ makeup, and they can spend the time together!
An excellent idea, Steph. Why the hell didn’t you think of this first?
She moves to call Cass, but stops before she reaches the phone. Cass is not going to answer her phone. It’s Cass. 
She might as well just go to the Manor and break into Cass’ room. 
***
“Cass!” Steph yells, lengthening the syllable. “Open up!”
Nothing. 
Steph breathes in, then yells again. “Cass! I’m coming in!” She opens Cass’ door and turns on the light in the room. Of course Cass is still asleep. Steph can’t even blame her, because she too, wants to be asleep. 
Can’t they both just skip the gala and nap in Cass’ room?
Before Steph can flop to Cass’ bed, however, Cass wakes up. She blinks up at Steph blearily and barks out, “What?”
Steph shrugs. “I was going to ask to use your makeup for the gala tonight,” Steph flops to Cass’ bed anyway, “but I’m thinking we both should just skip and stay here.”
“Can’t,” Cass groans. “Alfred.”
Steph winces. If Alfred is involved, then they have no way of getting out of this gala. 
“Fine,” Steph sighs. “Then I’m using your makeup.”
“I don’t have any,” Cass mumbles out. 
Steph turns to Cass, panicked. “What?” she screeches out. “I came all the way here to steal your makeup, Cass. I don’t have any either.”
“Just go without,” Cass mumbles again. She yawns, before saying, “I am.”
“No!” Steph objects. “I don’t want to be a spectacle anymore than I already will be!”
Cass is silent for a while, long enough that Steph is afraid that she’s fallen asleep again, but eventually, she says, “Let’s use Babs’.”
Oh! That’s a great idea! Why didn’t Steph think of that before?
“You’re a genius!” Steph says, smacking Cass’ arm. She just grunts back, pulling Steph’s arm into her own grip and using Steph as a pillow. 
Oh well. Steph guesses that they can spend a few more minutes napping. 
***
Steph wakes up, feeling content. That feeling only lasts for one second, however, because the moment she sees the clock in Cass’ room, she panicked immediately.
It’s six already. How the hell are they going to go to Babs’ tower, use her makeup, then come back to the Manor, and get ready for the gala, all before eight?
“Cass,” Steph hisses. “Cass, wake up! We need to go!”
Cass mumbles something and goes right back to sleep.
“Cass!” Steph says, louder. “Wake up! We’re going to be late!”
No response. 
Heavy-duty artillery, then. “Cassandra, if you don’t wake up, I’m telling Babs about that time with the-”
A hand clamps Steph’s mouth. 
“Shh,” Cass hisses out. “Don’t say that.”
Steph makes a face at Cass. Even though Cass’ hand is still on Steph’s face, Steph is sure that Cass knows that she’s doing. 
Evidence? Cass makes a face back at Steph. 
“Are we going or not?” Steph says, muffled by Cass’ hand. 
Cass seems to understand perfectly though, because after making another face, she sighs, “Fine.”
Steph pumps her fist. “Come on, then! We’re already late as it is!”
Cass groans, but eventually gets up. They spend a few minutes detangling themselves, because, apparently, in their sleep, they manage to make a giant pretzel with their bodies. 
Correction. Steph spends a few minutes detangling them, because Cass, the little shit that she is, just laughs at her. 
It doesn’t take too long, thankfully. They’re out and speeding to Babs’ tower before long in Cass’ bike with her driving. 
It seemed like a good idea at the time, but Steph is starting to regret agreeing to ride Cass’ bike. Honestly, who taught this girl how to drive? Steph is going to kill them, as soon as she can stand up without puking all over. 
“Cass!” Steph yells, trying to get her voice heard. “Slow down!”
“I thought you want to get there as fast as we can!” 
“Not at the cost of puking my guts out, Cass! Watch out!”
Cass laughs, swerving to dodge the car coming in their direction.
“Cass!” Steph screams. 
“It’s fine!” 
“It’s not fine!”
“It’s fine!”
“You’re a menace to society!” Steph screams out, clutching Cass’ waist as she swerves, at high speed, yet again. 
“I’m a delight!” comes the answer. And well, Steph can’t argue with that, can she? Even if Cass is a menace.
Finally, finally, they reach Babs’ tower, in one piece. Steph is never letting Cass drive her anywhere, ever again. 
“Come on.” Cass tilts her head towards the elevator, not looking dazed at all after that ride from hell. 
“Just…” Steph gasps. “Let me… catch my breath.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t want to be late. Come on.”
And with that, Cass walks into the elevator. Steph gives her a look, before surrendering and getting into the elevator too. 
Once they’re up and in Babs’ apartment, however, something very wrong is clear. Babs is not home. 
Steph frowns. This is not good. “Have you called Babs we’re coming?” she asks. 
“No.” Cass shrugs. “I thought you’re doing it.”
Steph stares at her. “Cass,” she says. “Cassandra. The very best of the best. Defeater of Lady Shiva. My bosom friend. What, and I can’t emphasize this enough,” she gestures with her hands, “the fuck?”
Cass just shrugs again. “I thought you’re doing it.”
Steph breathes out. “We’re fucked. We’re absolutely fucked. Just dig our graves now, Cass. We’re going to need it.”
“Relax,” Cass says. “We can just grab what we need and go back. No big deal.”
“Are you crazy?” Steph grits out. “It’s Babs. She’s going to find out, no matter what we do.”
“Then she already knows,” Cass says nonchalantly. “We might as well go get her makeup.”
Steph opens her mouth to argue, but she can’t say anything with that logic. Babs probably already knows the moment they reach the Tower’s threshold. They might as well go through with it. 
“Fine,” Steph sighs. “But,” she points to Cass, “if she comes, I’m telling her it’s your idea.”
“Fine,” Cass grumbles. But then, she says under her breath, “It’s your idea in the first place.”
“Excuse me?” Steph turns to her. “My idea?”
Cass sticks out her tongue. “Makeup. Your idea.”
Steph opens her mouth, offended, before closing it again. Yeah, okay. That is her idea. But not breaking into Babs’ room!
“You know what?” Steph says, resigned. “Let’s just get the makeup and get the hell out of here.”
Cass lifts her shoulder in the universal gesture of ‘sure’. 
“No going back,” Steph warns. 
Cass nods. 
Steph nods back.
Here we go. 
***
They’re halfway through rummaging Bab’s stash of makeup when they hear the sound of wheels rolling. Shit. Babs is home. 
Steph makes eye contact with Cass and then, at the same time, they stuff Babs’ makeup back in the bags, trying to remember how all of them are organized before.
“Quick, quick, quick,” Steph whispers. 
“I’m trying,” Cass whispers back. 
Lady luck is not on their side, however, because just as Cass is putting the last product in, - a truly amazing eyeliner, where did Babs buy it?- the door opens. 
Babs looks at them. They look back. 
“I know this looks bad…” Steph smiles awkwardly, “but we can explain?” 
Babs frowns, opens her mouth, closes it again, then pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to know, Stephanie,” she sighs. “Just… just don’t make a mess, yeah?”
Cass gives her a thumbs-up. Babs takes another look at the two of them, before sighing again and rolling out. 
Steph grimaces. They’re fucked. They’re totally fucked. 
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Text
drawings (2); bully || Batboys
Meant to be a one-shot, then again, why not make it a sequel or a part 2?
The request was made on Wattpad (ofc, I need to get outta that site XD jk no I don’t)
Warning(s); bullying, flashbacks of abuse.
Note; this can be read as a sequel (or a part 2, your pick) of 'drawings || Batmom', will be written in the daughter's (2nd person) point of view and Batmom will be in 3rd person! Also, mentions of the batgirls!
This is so confusing...I know. I'm so sorry if my writings always confuse you.
;;
In your time living in the manor, you learned how it felt like to have a proper family, people who loved you, who treated you the way you should be treated. Completely different from your past house.
Mrs. and Mr. Wayne were different, your mother and father were very different. They were the one who helped you through everything, catching up on what you missed on being a normal, happy kid. Your brothers also helped you learning things they were good at.
Dick taught you to do some tricks with your body, moving and bending your limbs in ways that you thought were not possible. Also, who would've thought that that bubbly ball that mostly made of elastic muscles knew a little bit of ballet? Since you were still young, it wasn't that hard.
Jason, the others thought he was going to introduce some of his gun collections to you, he didn't. He brought you to the library to read, he would buy you some books too. Harmless books. When you told him you were interested in poetry, his eyes lit up and he started to show you his collections and you would ask if there was something you didn't understand.
Tim, everybody knew that his teaching wouldn't go too far from technologies. He taught you how to use the computer first, then things about the internet, then jumped a huge leap to the basic of hacking. Thank god you were a quick learner. He also would occasionally help you with math.
And Damian. Oh, Damian freaking Wayne. Did he goes all Al-Ghul on you. He taught you how to use a katana for heaven's sake, how to headlock somebody, where to hit someone to make them fall unconscious. If you failed he would scold you, not too harsh though, he already heard your past.
Then there were Cassandra and Stephanie, they -- sometimes just couldn't get along, they were a completely two different person. For an example, one time, Steph wanted you to come with her to spend a quality time watching her favorite shoe but then Cassandra spotted you and asked if you wanted to help her with her training, you wanted to do both. When you took your time to think about it, they would argue.
Barbara then came to the rescue, separating both girls and came with her suggestion which was watching two episodes of Steph's show and helped Cass with her training for one and a half hour. Barbara would tell you to make a quick decision for your own sake instead of staying silent, she was like a second mother really. You loved them all.
You trusted them yet you couldn't bring yourself to tell them that the other students at the school were treating you like you were a punching bag.
When your mother told you that she allowed you to finally go to school you couldn't stop bouncing. Your former parents never allowed you to go to school, let alone study, you always hid your books and papers under the bed. One time when they found out you were learning to count they yelled at you.
Yes, you still loved and excited at the thought school but the way others treated you were too much to bear, it reminded you of your constant abuse at your old house. You still remembered that your mother wanted you to tell her everything about your problems, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.
You didn't want to burden them. To annoy them with your constant problem, so you stayed silent.
And this morning you tried to avoid as much problem as possible.
You failed.
You were walking to your locker to get the poetry book Jason just gave you the other night, as you reached for the lock your wrist was harshly grabbed, without turning around you knew who they were. Yes, they. There was more than one kid that messed with you. They were your seniors. You hated them, they reminded you of those people you used to call your parents.
"Mute kid." The voice you wanted to hear the least echoed in your ear.
They didn't say anything else but started beating you up as they ranted about their bad day, about that one teacher that always told them to do their homework, how they wanted to plot a revenge against that old man. They didn't stop, feet kicked your ribs, your wrists if not broken, crooked.
Even though Damian did teach you the basic to fight, you still couldn't bring yourself to fight back. You didn't want to misbehave.
"Aren't you going to scream for help?" One of them asked, harshly putting his dirty, shoe-clad feet on your cheek, "oh wait, I forgot! You can't talk!"
His words emitted a booming laughter from the group.
Your body was already numb, you couldn't move a muscle even if you did you were sure you wouldn't dare to move anyway, they would beat you up again.
The only thing you did was whimpering in pain, tears pricking in your eyes, thus only egging them on until you fell silent.
"I think we went too far." A girl whispered to the others, you heard their distinct conversation before finally blacking out.
**
At the manor, the brothers received a call from your school. Tim was the one who picked up the phone since he was the closest. His eyes widening in pure horror.
"What happened, Drake?" Damian was the first to ask as soon as Tim roughly placed the phone back with a loud clack.
"Bad. Hospital, now!" Tim didn't waste any time, grabbing his key and slung his bag before rushing out to get to his bike, the other boys following. They didn't use the car because it took too long to their liking, especially in this kind of emergency.
When Tim acts before thinking then something bad must've happened, they knew, Tim tends to plan everything before acts it out.
The hospital hall was crowded as soon as they got in, those boys were magnets for males and females, nobody could resist their attractiveness. A lot of girls were squealing, some trying to approach them only to get ignored as they rushed straight to the room you were in.
Did the nurses gawk at them too? Yes.
Did they care? No.
"Our sister?" The boys asked simultaneously.
One of the nurses opened the curtain, showing your badly bandaged body lying limp on the bed. You were almost covered in bandages. They could see your bruised cheek, ripped lips and a black eye, an infusion pump was attached to your wrist.
They scamper over to your bed, a mixture of worry and guilt adoring their faces as they waited for you to wake up.
"Who could've done this?" The eldest son asked nobody in particular as he brushed your messy hair back carefully with his fingers.
"Found them." Said Tim not too long after, he already brought his laptop out. He must've thought about looking it up as soon as he saw you.
They peered over Tim's shoulders as Tim showed them various of clips he got from hacking through the school's security. All of them were about the same thing, you getting beaten up, at first they didn't touch you then it escalated to a relentless beating.
Jason's fists clenched, "oh fuck no, they didn't just treat my sis like a damn punching bag." He hissed through gritted teeth, anger bubbling up within him.
"We have to confront them," Damian suggested.
"I say we talk to their parents," Dick added.
"To the principal." Tim continued.
"Sorry softies, I have to go with the Demon's plan." Jason crossed his arms, already sticking up with the idea of beating the shit out of those knuckleheads.
"Tell mom." As soon as the words fell from Dick's lips they immediately fumbled with their phones, Tim's call was the one that your mother picked up first before Tim put it on speaker.
"Tim? What's wrong?" Your mother automatically questioned.
"Something really bad happened at school," Jason answered for them.
"Is your sister okay!?" Her voice raised an octave, a distant ruffling was heard and a dull thud.
"She's unconscious." Damian's green eyes glanced at you for a moment, "what should we do?"
She didn't answer though, more ruffling, thumping before a loud bang following after then a short shuffling.
The boys quirked their eyebrows as they looked at each other with the same questioning expression.
A familiar grunt was heard, "what did you boys say? She pushed me to the floor then went out without telling me." Bruce's voice replaced her.
"What were you doing?" Dick questioned.
"What did you boys say?" Bruce avoided the question.
The boys explained to him, short and straight to the point yet didn't leave any small details. They heard Bruce's frustrated and angered groan before ending the call without saying anything else.
Just before they could complain, your soft noise in pain gained their attention back. Your eyes slowly flutter open, your right eye only could open slightly, it was hurting you.
You only saw their blurry figures but you could tell that they were worried, so worried. You tried your best to fist your hand, bringing it up to your chest before making circular motions over your chest.
"Sorry."
"What for?" Dick whispered his question to you.
You couldn't bring yourself to answer, not even with the sign language. You were silent again, eyes staring at the ceiling. You were so tired.
Your brothers didn't need an answer, they knew what you meant and they told you not to be sorry about it, they understood.
"We told mother," Damian informed you causing you to sharply turn your head to the side, eyes wide as you thought for the worst. Your mother wouldn't just sit around doing nothing, you know, everybody in the manor knew.
She would stomp her way to the school, getting the names of the kids that beat you up within minutes, getting them out of their classes and went to each of their houses, giving their parents a promise instead of a thread. A promise that would make their families suffer for years.
You shuddered at the thought, her wrath was the lasting you wanted.
"Mother won't be mad at you," Damian assured you as he sat on a chair.
"No, she probably wants you to be more open though," Tim spoke up, stuffing his laptop back into his bag.
Your hand shifted as you gathered enough energy to talk.
"What about you guys?"
"We'll beat the crap out of them and follow you everywhere." Jason nonchalantly answered, his arms were still crossed over his chest while his back leaned against the wall.
You frowned, giving him the 'are you serious' look.
"Nope, we'll just put hidden cameras in your stuff."
Anybody would've thought Dick was joking. He didn't.
You were sure as hell would check everything in your room if they were camera free as soon as you got out of the hospital.
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audreycritter · 7 years
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“Gah,” Jason Todd exclaims, slamming one hand against the steering wheel. Dev, to his credit, does not jump but looks up briefly from the article he is reading on his phone.
“Problem?” Dev asks, glancing ahead at the road from the passenger seat.
“I’m so fricking hungry,” Jason growls, twisting in his seat to look out the rear window. “Tim’s right there. Why the frick did we decide to wait until after her recital to eat?”
“Because it’s barely five in the evening, mate,” Dev answers, sounding vaguely amused. They left the Arts Hall after going to Cassandra’s afternoon ballet recital en masse, and managed to talk Alfred into take-out burgers instead of the older man skipping the recital to prepare food for afterward.
“It’s a stupid time to eat lunch,” Jason snaps. “And why did Tim pick it all up, anyway.”
Dev pockets his phone and gives Jason a level look as the car crawls forward in traffic.
“Mate.”
“What?!” Jason exclaims, throwing his head back. “AUGH.”
“We’re having dinner. Did you not eat lunch?”
“What the hell,” Jason throws an arm in the air and slams the gas to close the gap that’s suddenly opened ahead of them. A second later, he pounds the brake just as hard at a red light. “Alfred told me not to eat!”
“He didn’t mean all day, mate,” Dev says, a little startled now. “You could’ve had lunch.”
“Hold on,” Jason snaps. “Fuck it.”
The younger man throws the gear shift into park and before Dev can even yell in protest, Jason flings the car door open and tumbles out of the car, shaking off his seatbelt.
“Jay!” Dev says, pointlessly, craning to see.
Jason jogs ten feet back and bends down at the window of Tim’s car. Dev can make out Tim’s confused expression through the glass, but a moment later a brown paper bag of food and a drink are extended through the open window.
Jason snatches them and sprints back to his car, sliding into the seat amidst the car’s angry beeping at being left on while the door is open. He buckles again just as the light changes to green and the engine makes an awful revving noise when he presses the gas.
“Drive,” Dev says and Jason whips the gear shift around and they’re moving forward again.
Somehow in those few seconds of running or buckling, Jason has already gotten a cheeseburger out of the bag and is chewing a mouthful.
“I slept in,” he mumbles around a large bite. “Didn’t have time. Goodness gracious, this is heaven.”
“It’s only Park Avenue,” Dev jokes, peering into the bag Jason had thrown onto his lap.
“Listen,” Jason insists, “I love this cheeseburger more than I’ve loved anything or anyone ever. With all my heart. See if there’s another one.”
“The sack’s full of them,” Dev answers, sorting through the wrappers. “No chips, though.”
“Tim said there’s another bag of those,” Jason says, wadding the paper and foil wrapper. He reaches over and grabs another burger. “Alfred will understand.”
“We’ll say I gave you mine if anyone’s miffed,” Dev says, folding the top of the bag shut.
“Well, now I feel bad,” Jason protests, taking another bite anyway.
“I just want chips, mate. I ate lunch like a sane person,” Dev says with a grin.
“Har har,” Jason answers with his mouth full. “Gimme Dick’s next.”
Dev’s hand tightens on the bag and he edges it away from Jason’s reach.
“I’m not gonna eat it,” Jason says, putting a hand up in a gesture of assurance. “I’m just gonna lick it and put it back. I’ll tell him later.”
Dev raises an eyebrow and moves the bag further away.
“You are zero fun, Dr. Frankenstein,” Jason grumbles, turning off the main road stretch they’d been on. “It’s like you’ve been spending too much time with Bruce.”
“Don’t act surprised,” Dev says. “If you get him ill, guess who has to take care of it?”
“Alfred?” Jason asks. “Okay, yeah. That’s a deterrent.”
“I meant me, you plonker,” Dev says, his tone offended. “I’d not leave him to Alfie alone.”
“Oh, in that case, hand it over anyway.” Jason shrugs and slurps soda from the cup and then makes a face. “This is fucking gross. Why is this orange.”
“Your da’s, and I’ve tried to talk him out of it,” Dev says, pressing his shoulder against the door to brace himself. “Bloody hell, Jay, slow for the turns or we’ll both end up zombies.”
“You aren’t a Wayne,” Jason scoffs. “What makes you think you’d come back?”
“Steph’s not a Wayne and she came back,” Dev retorts, taking the cup out of Jason’s hand. “If you don’t care about us, at least have mercy on your sodding suspension.”
“It’s Bruce’s car. I don’t care,” Jason says, speeding through a yellow light. He glances in the rearview mirror. “And Steph didn’t actually die. Good. We lost Tim.”
“Were we trying to lose Timothy?” Dev asks, turning his head to look out the back.
“We’re racing,” Jason answers. A second later, he cuts the wheel hard and they slam around a corner into an alleyway. “Fish-fucking-sticks, I forgot about that new bridge. I bet Tim took it.”
“I did not agree to racing,” Dev says firmly. “Not in the middle of Gotham.”
“We have to get you away from Bruce. He’s rubbing off on you and it’s awful.” Jason doesn’t slow down coming out of the alley and takes a u-turn almost immediately on the road he joins.
“Have you ever been in a car with Bruce, mate,” Dev says. “Bloody hell, at this point, I’m not even going to want chips. Your da drives like a bat out–” He stops abruptly.
Jason turns to him with a wicked grin.
“Finish it,” he orders, blowing through a yellow light.
“I’m just going to stop talking,” Dev says instead. “I’m going to close my eyes and whinge to Alfie when we get back and never get in a car I’m not driving, ever again.”
“If you don’t want your fries, can I have those, too?” Jason asks, slowing suddenly. They crawl down the street at five miles under the speed limit and Dev watches out the window as they pass a squad car tucked back into an alley with a radar gun. “Do you know if they jokerized them?”
“If they what?” Dev replies, his stomach turning. As soon as they’re around a corner, the car picks up speed again.
“The fries. Did they jokerize them. The seasoning?” Jason says, as if this is obvious. “They’re crap without it but sometimes Tim skips it because Bruce gets weird about it.”
“How dare your da get weird about remembering you died,” Dev says dryly. “The sodding audacity.”
“Hey,” Jason says, coughing. He picks up the soda and drinks some. The younger man makes a face at the taste and then sips it again anyway. “You’re doing better. You didn’t pause all funny before you said it this time.”
“Audacity?” Dev says with a grin. “I’m shite at writing, but I can manage some big words.”
“You know what the frick I mean,” Jason laughs. “I’m pretty sure we lost, by the way. Check Tim’s location.”
“I’m not ringing him, mate. If he’s still driving, he’ll answer anyway. The lot of you have no self-preservation skills whatsoever,” Dev refuses as they drive over the bridge toward the more secluded Manor.
“You’re so old,” Jason complains. “Just open your texts and go to his contact info. It should be right there. Dick made him share his location with everyone after that insomnia thing.”
Dev slides his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and taps on the screen.
“Huh,” he says. “This is bloody convenient. He’s half a mile from the Manor and not moving. I hope Dames is okay.”
“Why wouldn’t Damian be okay?” Jason asks, looking over sharply.
“He was in the back, yeah? And if Tim was driving anything like you were…” Dev trails off as if this is enough information.
“You lost me,” Jason says. “Damian’s an idiot but he wouldn’t try to take over.”
“He gets carsick in the backseat, mate,” Dev says, typing a text while he talks. “Did you not know?”
“How do you know that?” Jason demands. “Gah, it’s like you’re turning into Alfred.”
“He was sick all over my car on the way to Lake Vernon last summer. He was too sodding stubborn to ask me to stop.”
“I don’t even know why you stick around,” Jason exclaims, braking to a stop. Tim’s car is on the shoulder of the road but the car is empty.
“Mostly for tea,” Dev says, opening his door. “I’ll look about.” He sets the bag of cheeseburgers on the seat when he stands, then he stoops over and gives Jason a skeptical glance and takes the bag with him.
Jason flicks the hazard lights on and climbs out. He squints, looking down the road.
“They’re up there, walking,” he says.
“The petrol tank says it’s empty,” Dev adds, looking through the driver’s side window of Tim’s car.
“Get back in,” Jason says quickly. “Hurry. He saw us.”
Dev obeys and barely is buckled again before the car speeds forward.
“What the bloody hell,” he yelps as the speedometer tips toward 60 miles per hour. They rush past Stephanie and Cassandra, who are holding bags of food and trays of drinks. A second later, they speed past Tim and Damian, who are both sprinting.
“We can still win,” Jason says. “And loser has to tell Bruce that we broke the T-Rex’s head before the recital.”
“You what,” Dev exclaims. “Does this mean we’re free? We can burn it in the yard?”
“He’s going to fix it. He fixed it last time.”
“Then what’s the bloody point?” Dev demands, sounding defeated. “How did you break it, anyway?”
“Um,” Jason says reluctantly. “We shot it. But it was an accident. And we won!”
The car skids to a stop on the drive in front of the Manor with a whining screech.
“You accidentally shot…the head of…the massive dinosaur…” Dev summarizes faintly.
“Mhmm. With a crossbow,” Jason says. “We didn’t think it’d just fucking shatter like that, but I guess it’s gotten brittle. And now Tim gets to tell Bruce and I swear to god someone will die if they didn’t season those fries.” He’s already out of the car and he bangs on the roof. “You coming?”
“Yes,” Dev says in a detached voice. “But only because Alfie’s inside and I can find some semblance of sanity there, otherwise I’d just spend the night right here, thanks.”
“Can I still have your fries?” Jason asks, turning to give Tim and Damian the finger as they stagger onto the front lawn from the road. Tim gives it back and sits down on the grass and Damian runs faster. Jason yells and bolts up the stairs. “Answer me inside! If I’m still alive!”
Dev waves to Tim who waves limply before falling onto his back on the lawn.
“I’m so hungry!” the faint yell carries to the car. “Can you throw me a cheeseburger?”
“What, did none of you eat before?” Dev shouts back, his grip tightening on the bag.
“I slept in!” Tim replies. “And then the burgers were stolen.”
Dev sighs and turns toward the Manor.
“Drag your sorry arse inside,” he calls over his shoulder. He stops and takes a cheeseburger out and sets it on the steps. “Here. I’m luring you.”
When he glances back, Tim raises a hand in a thumbs-up gesture.
“This sodding family,” Dev mutters. Alfred appears just inside the doorway and doesn’t flinch or blink at the sound of crashing behind him.
“In one piece?” the older man asks calmly.
“Just barely,” Dev replies. “I thought ballet was supposed to be calm and civilized.”
“Not for the Waynes,” Alfred says with a slight smile, stepping aside. “But I hardly think this should be news to you.”
Jason steps around Alfred and back out onto the top step with a struggling, protesting Damian thrown over his shoulder.
“Did you jokerize the fries?” he roars down toward the lawn where Tim is still lying. Tim sits up and cups his hands around his mouth to shout back.
“Of course I did. They’re gross plain.”
“Eat them outside!” Bruce’s voice carries out of the house from somewhere down a hallway. “Or I throw them away!”
Jason drops Damian, who just barely manages to land on his feet, and he tips his head back and growls.
“You’re repressing everyone!” he complains loudly.
“I’ll clean the patio table,” Alfred says, disappearing inside.
“My house, my rules!” Bruce answers and Jason turns and slams the door shut.
The girls are at the edge of the lawn now, still carrying food. Cassandra is slurping slushie through a fat straw. A window above the steps opens and Dick leans out.
“Did Jason lick my cheeseburger again?” he demands of the crowd in general. “Jay. Jason.”
“Frick yes I did,” Jason says.
“He didn’t,” Dev answers, holding the bag aloft. The window shuts.
“You have no sense of fun,” Jason moans, snatching Damian up again. The boy is as tall as Tim now, so it’s less like watching a child being picked up and more like watching someone be abducted. “Come on, Demonbird. We’re going to jump in the pool just like this.”
Tim has dragged himself to his feet and joins Dev on the steps. He leans over and picks up the cheeseburger sitting on the ground and unwraps it.
“I have to tell Bruce about the T-Rex,” he mutters. “Wanna come?”
“Why not,” Dev answers with a shrug. “It’s safer than being by the pool.”
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