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chachacancan · 3 years

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Some broad strokes about a Daemon!au or a bastardized HDM!au featuring Jason and the batfam:

When Jason dies, his daemon dies with him. But when Jason comes back to life, his daemon doesn’t, because daemons don’t leave bodies behind to return to; they turn to dust. So Jason digs his way out of his grave, stumbles across town, and nobody wants to help him, because he clearly has no daemon and it marks him as like, really strange, potentially dangerous, and in Gotham, that means “do not get involved”.

And let’s say, that Talia had somebody posted in Gotham to kinda listen in to the rumours because she wants to keep an eye out for Bruce. And then that contact catches the whispers that there’s this kid living rough in the streets that apprently has no daemon. He relays that information to Talia, and she’s curious, because as far as she knows, she’s only ever met one other person sans daemon, and it’s her father, who has repeatedly bathed in the Pit.

Talia recognizes Jason, surmises that he must’ve come back from the dead, and brings him to the League to try and fix him some. When Jason doesn’t come out from his catatonic state, Talia dunks him in the pit.

Enter a confused, hurting Jason that’s been run off from the League cause Ra’s is pissed, and who now has to deal with the reality that he’s died, and that he’s miraculously come back, and that his daemon (a significant part of his life, supposed to be the reflection of his soul) is still gone.

And the Joker is still alive.

And so this Jason is angry yes, but also kind of empty cause he feels like he’s missing part of himself. It hurts him to see the new Robin out there fighting crime, yeah, he feels betrayed and he feels like he was expendable, but it also hurts to see Tim Drake with his gorgeous eagle daemon alongside Bruce.

When Jason trains around the world he’s shunned because he doesn’t have his daemon with him. He sees people doing a double take, looking to the sky in case maybe his daemon’s a bird just flying overhead, or looking to his pockets cause some people have tiny daemons like field mice. He lets people think what they want, but it does bother him, no matter how nonchalant he tries to appear. It’s hard to be around people with daemons because it reminds him of what he’s lost, nevermind the fact that it constantly reminds him that the only person who can kinda sorta relate to him is Ra’s fucking Al Ghul. Full hurt, absolutely fuckall comfort at this point.

When Bruce realizes that Jason’s back, he doesn’t realize that his daemon’s gone — a big part of bat training is to learn how to distance yourself from your daemon (up to a kilometre!) because you can’t disguise a daemon, and because it’d be kinda suspicious if both the batman and Bruce Wayne have the exact same daemon at their side. So it isn’t unusual for the bats and the birds not to have their daemons in the vicinity. Bruce thinks Jason’s daemon lurks around at a distance, just like his own.

And the thing is, nobody realizes that Jason’s daemon is gone for a long time. It’s months after the “big confrontation”, and Jason’s more or less gotten over having a batarang thrown at his head. It’s when he and the family are tolerating each other, and it’s Alfred that realizes.

Say Jason’s injured on a patrol, can’t really do anything by himself, and Alfred’s put his foot down cause no grandson of his will starve because they’ve broken a few bones and are too stubborn to accept help, no sir. And Jason allows Alfred to come by his safe-house with supplies, and to help him change bandages and such.

So Alfred notices that Jason’s daemon isn’t around, and at first he thinks maybe she’s just wandering about, but the more be comes by, the more he realizes that she’s never around. And so he asks.

And Jason has to say that she didn’t come back when he did. Definitely a good cry here, and definitely a good hug too, because Jason deserves all the hugs. It’s the first time Jason acknowledges that his daemon is gone. There’s something final about saying it aloud.

Alfred snitches to Bruce because this is important information that Jason’s father should now, really.

Bruce of course, has no tact and goes to confront Jason about it. Then a cathartic discussion/screaming match between Jason and Bruce (as you do) where they both admit to some wrongs, but mostly it’s Bruce understanding that Jason isn’t just angry, he’s grieving. Bruce lost his son, and Jason lost everything — even his daemon.

Jason’s never going to be the kid Bruce remembers, and he certainly can’t be whole ever again, so he doesn’t care what Bruce thinks killing is doing to him or his psyche or his morality anyways. That’s what Jason thinks. And Bruce? Bruce can’t accept that. Because despite having changed — having grown up — Jason has so much Jason in him still. And he might’ve lost his daemon, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still Bruce’s son, damnit. And Bruce is a stubborn old bastard who doesn’t know when to back off.

I don’t know how I’d end this honestly. I feel like Jason returning to the batfamily right away would be a non sequitur. He’s spent so long on his own. But maybe Jason mellows a bit after that. He doesn’t have to hide as much now that the cat’s out of the bag, and it’s good that he socializes more now. Maybe he finds that he isn’t as hollow inside as he thought. Maybe he starts feeling good about it all once in a while, and that’s progress, and eventually he finds he doesn’t mind being around people and their daemons that much anymore.

Maybe he heals just a little.

#jason todd #red hood #batfam #fic #daemon au #rey scribbles

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

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Title: Manor-Dad lets me drive the Batmobile Chapter 6 Summary: The Batkids think Bruce is dating Batman ft. Jason being the best big brother ever to Tim AN: BET YOU THOUGHT YOU’D SEEN THE LAST OF ME. Yeah I updated!!!

Jason felt pretty shitty for the first week Tim was staying with them. He knew the sharp claws digging into his throat and head as well as nausea accompanied by them were all symptoms of jealousy trying to establish its place in Jason’s heart. He was sixteen for crying out loud. He should be above feeling jealous of a thirteen-year-old, who, most of the time, wasn’t even trying to get anyone’s attention. It was almost pitiful to witness Tim startling every time some addressed him because he wasn’t expecting anyone to really ask him about his day at dinner.

And yet Jason was hiding away in his room because he couldn’t stand Bruce paying attention to someone else like a spoiled little brat. He would have gone to the Cave, but Alfred had banned all of them from sulking in there. He figured it was only a question of time until Alfred got Batman to switch into civilian clothes and stay in the manor.

Groaning, Jason buried his head in his pillows.

Don’t be jealous of the new kid, don’t be jealous of the new kid, don’t be jealous of-

The door creaked.

“What’s up, Little Wing?”

Dick.

Right, it was Saturday morning. Of course Dick would be here.

“Nothing,” Jason replied, but even to his ears, his voice sounded wobbly.

Dick honored his horrible nickname and took Jason’s annoyance as an invitation. He let himself fall down onto Jason’s bed and stretched like a cat, taking up all the space. He stayed as silent as a bat while he waited for Jason to gather his courage. It was dumb, but when Dick wasn’t being a dick, he had this annoying quality that made you want to talk to him. He was good at giving advice that didn’t boil down to “money” or “batarangs” or random actually helpful bits about social cues. Jason knew he could trust his brother, he had kept his mouth shut about Sheila for months after all.

“I’m jealous,” Jason finally admitted. It was strange to say it out loud

Dick laughed. “Of my charming good looks? Don’t worry, you’ll get there.”

Jason rolled his eyes but cracked a small smile nevertheless.

“Not of that, Dickhead. And I’m already taller than you anyway.”

“Lies! Slander! How could you even just attempt to break my heart like that?”

Dramatically, Dick put his right arm to his forehead and closed his eyes, reminiscent of a shocked Victorian lady.

“Uhu, just consult the measurements on the kitchen entrance door. I’ve officially surpassed you.”

Even if Jason couldn’t really believe it. Leslie had estimated his height when he’d first gotten to the manor and back then it had seemed like he’d be lucky if he ever reached Dick’s height. Personally, Jason was blaming that alien plant fertilizer goo he’d gotten dosed with a couple months ago for his growth spurt, but he sure as hell wasn’t telling anyone that. Except for Alfred, in case he ended up growing flowers instead of hair.

“But no, I’m jealous of the kid.”

“Tim?” Dick asked.

His voice wasn’t judgmental or anything, but Jason still felt like apologizing.

Jason groaned and fell back on his bed. “I know! It’s stupid! But Bruce has been busy with him practically the whole week! I know it’s ‘cause they have to get his guardianship finalized and everything, but still. And he’s so smart too! Even Batman’s noticed! I lived in this house for weeks and I didn’t figure out the big batty secret, but the kid did it from a distance!”

“You know, I was pretty jealous too when you showed up.”

Jason definitely hadn’t known that. Honestly, Dick’s sunny attitude around Jason had almost freaked him out the first times he interacted with Dick.

“What?”

Dick shrugged easily.

“I mean, I wasn’t talking to Batman at all. And then there was you spending so much time down in the Cave with him. Of course, I was jealous. You were all cute and tiny and knew basically everything about Gotham already. I swear, I had to study boring maps for months and you already knew Gotham’s streets.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“I considered your situation and I tried to get to know you. Figure out your interests and stuff.”

Jason frowned.

“Wait. Was that the reason you went everywhere I wanted with me? Passive-aggressive exposure therapy in a mall?”

Dick grinned mischievously. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Surprisingly, it didn’t take much to get Tim talking about himself. After reassuring him that, yes, Jason didn’t have anything more important to do and no, Bruce really was expecting Tim to decorate his room, Tim could not be stopped.

He talked.

So much.

About skateboarding, how much fun the keyboard was, his more challenging school classes, photography, Pokémon, his favorite comics, exciting facts he learned, the heroes conspiracy blog he was apparently running, and Robin.

Whenever they were alone, Tim would talk about Robin.

The sky was blue, the sun was hot, Timothy Jackson Drake didn’t shut up about Robin.

He got super excited and cheerful then, retelling Jason cases he had actually worked and wondering about how all the cool gadgets worked and just Robin.

Tim’s case of hero worship hadn’t gone unnoticed by the manor’s other residents either, but Jason wasn’t sure if Alfred or Bruce understood the way Tim talked about Robin. Like he was more than just a vigilante, like the role was a symbol.

“Batman needs Robin,” Tim said seriously. “It makes him better. I mean, Batgirl and Nightwing and Magpie, you’re all amazing! But it’s not Gotham without the Bat and his Robin, right?”

Tim looked unsure, but Jason realized the kid understood it.

And then Jason began to think.

Barbara couldn’t believe it took over a month for her to finally get to meet one Timothy Drake in person. She had researched him, even exchanged a few words with him over the comms once, but she had yet to actually meet the kid. Even Dick had met him, and he lived in Blüdhaven.

But Barbara had finally managed to clear enough time in her busy schedule – she was coordinating two vigilante teams and operating as Oracle after all – and driven up to the manor. If she used her time there to update the Bat-Computer as well, then that was only her business. She wasn’t a workaholic and she had a life outside of her duties when they allowed it.

She had the work-life-balance figured out, honestly.

Tim was a cute kid. A bit shy at first, but he warmed up to her quickly enough. Jason must have expected it because he was grinning when Tim started chattering about video games.

“So, what do you think?” Jason asked.

“He’s a good kid.”

“Aaaand?”

“You’re being awfully noisy. What do you want to know?”

“Batman talks to you about my training, doesn’t he? How much longer until I can go solo?”

Barbara leaned forward in her wheelchair. “What do you think?”

Jason deflated. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been ready for it for ages. I haven’t needed B’s back up in a long while, but imagining him being halfway across town is… unsettling still.”

Barbara nodded slowly before replying.

“Honestly? You’ve been ready for two months already at least. Batman just has a hard time letting go. He’s never really been without one of us for a very long time.”

“Right,” Jason said. “Which is why we can’t leave him alone.”

“What are you thinking?”

Jason pointed at Timothy, eagerly throwing batarangs at a target.

“He said that Gotham, that Batman, needs Robin. I’m thinking we should take advantage of the kid who already knows our secret and has a hard time falling asleep when we’re out.”

Bruce knew something was up, but he allowed himself to live in blissful ignorance a little longer. He let Dick sneak forensics lessons into Tim’s self-defense classes, allowed Jason to teach Tim about the various gangs ruling Gotham.

It wasn’t like these bits of information weren’t useful, the every-day citizen just didn’t particularly need them.

And Bruce definitely wasn’t thinking about who did need this knowledge and more.

Tim Drake was his ward for as long as his parents weren’t in Gotham. Nothing more and nothing less.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Bruce could see Alfred observing him while the kids (“I’m a twenty-year-old woman, B.” “And I remember babysitting you as a teenager, your point?”) bickered about some movie.

Ignorance was bliss, that was a lesson Bruce had learned early on. And sometimes you were allowed to indulge in it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tim asked from where he was sitting on Jason’s bed.

“Absolutely,” Jason replied, grinning way too cheerfully for six in the morning. He’d only gotten back from patrol two hours ago, he shouldn’t be so awake yet, or so Tim thought, yet Jason looked like he could take on the world.

“But we’re breaking one of The Rules.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. They’re more like guidelines than rules. Besides, Aunty Diana and Kate already agreed to help us. This is a surefire plan.”

Tim honestly wasn’t so sure about it. He wanted to trust Jason, but what if Bruce and Batman didn’t think it was funny to be tricked into a date?

“But-“

“Jason’s right, Tim,” Barbara’s voice echoed from the laptop sitting on Jason’s desk. “Besides, the worst that will happen is that you get grounded because Bruce and B are caught up in the romantic bliss that was relaxing on Valentine’s Day in Paris.”

“That’s right!” Jason said. “We’re setting up dates for them at least twice a year if we can. It would be suspicious if we didn’t try to get them away.”

Tim pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. “If you say so… I still don’t get why we need both of them out of Gotham for so long. Can’t they stay here?”

“I do say so, Timbit. Just you wait, they won’t know what hit them. And if they stay here, they’d just take their paperwork to bed.”

“Eeww.”

Bruce absolutely knew what hit him. Diana and Kate were good actors, they had to be if they even just wanted to operate as vigilantes, but they didn’t even bother to hide it from him.

“It’s cute,” Diana said. “How much they try to make their parents happy.”

“Very funny. What if something actually happens, though?”

“Then your Super-Bro will pick you up from Paris,” Kate replied. “And ten years ago you were working alone. Now you’ve got me and Dick and Jason and Babs to look over Gotham. We got this.”

Her words would have been more encouraging if they weren’t followed up by her narrowly avoiding a brick being thrown at her.

Nevertheless, he still pretended to buy WE having an emergency in their Paris branch and one of Gotham’s smuggler rings operating from Paris as well.

The kids’ happy expressions were worth it.

Dick felt maybe a little guilty for lying to Tim. It was true, they tried to give Bruce and Batman some alone time once in a while and Valentine’s day was perfect for it. This time though, they needed the two men away so they could properly get to Tim.

Truth be told, he’d been skeptical when Barbara and Jason had pitched the idea to him. Training Tim and giving him a home was one thing, bringing him into the active side of the vigilante life a whole other deal.

The longer he watched Tim though, the more could he see it. The teenager was smart, dedicated, skilled and – like Jason had said – he knew what Robin meant.

Though, seeing him be questioned about the law, recent gang activity, weapons, the Justice League, and various Gotham residing companies by Babs all while sparing with Jason, made Dick pity Tim.

Dick’s Robin training had been way more relaxed, but he also hadn’t had three older siblings.

If not for the fact that Jason had made Tim’s favorite smoothie for him, Tim would assume the older boy was trying to murder him. It was day three of their spontaneous ‘sibling-bonding weekend’ and Tim was pretty sure his whole body was dying. He had never had to think or work out this much. He was sore all over. The training mats he was lying on were becoming his favorite spot to be, right after his bathtub and his bed.

“And how do you feel?” Dick asked.

“Like Superman decided I was a threat and went several rounds in the ring with me because I couldn’t recall that the Kryptonite is locked with a special key, and three different locks behind the secret entrance-“

“Woah, woah, Timbit,” Jason interrupted. “That’s enough trivia. Didn’t think you could learn this much in three days.”

“Mhm,” Barbara muttered from the desk of the Bat-Computer. “You own me fifty bucks.”

Tim frowned. “Wait. You bet on this?”

“Oooh, yeah. This has been two months in the making?” Dick glanced at Jason, who nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, putting together a time table for three days wasn’t fun, I tell you, but the results are pretty amazing.”

Jason smiled and dropped down on the mats right next to Tim to mess up his sweaty hair.

“Urgh, gross,” he cursed and rubbed his hands on his sweat pants.

“But- why did you do this?”

The three heroes in front of Tim shared a look and Tim got the distinct impression that he was missing a big piece labeled ‘context’ in bright neon colors here.

“Your parents will be back in a few hours,” Barbara said.

(Tim wondered what it meant that his first instinct wasn’t to think about his own parents but-)

“I guess that means it’s time,” Dick said and walked over to the display cases in which the various Robin uniforms were kept. From in-between them, he pulled forward a small gift-wrapped box.

“Catch!” He shouted and threw it in Tim’s direction.

Heart beating fast, Tim jumped up to catch it. The package wasn’t bigger than his palm and surrounded by Christmas themed paper.

“Christmas? Really?” Jason snorted, but Dick just shrugged.

“Didn’t have anything better at home. Go on, Tim, open it. If you want it, it’s yours.”

Carefully, Tim unwrapped the gift, revealing a cardboard box. He could feel the others’ stares on him but didn’t dare look up. They had put a lot of thought into this and spend so much time with him. He couldn’t disappoint them.

Tim opened the box and came face to face with a shiny black and gold emblem.

“What…?”

“You said it yourself,” Jason said. “Batman needs a Robin and I’m not putting on the green tights again.”

“What Jason means,” Dick added, “is that we really can’t be responsible for Batman running around without a talented little pipsqueak cracking masterful puns. So if you want to be Robin, you have our blessings. You only need to convince the other two overprotective idiots of this house.”

It took all of Tim’s strength not to burst into tears right then and there. He was thankful though that Jason and Dick dragged him over to Babs for a group hug.

Bruce didn’t even know why he had assumed it would end differently. Tim had been skittish the whole week and Bruce had watched the Cave’s security tapes, just to make sure they hadn’t tried to hide an explosion from him again.

“I‘m fairly skilled in a multitude of martial arts now,“ Tim began his speech.

“No,” Batman replied.

At the other end of the Cave, Nightwing and Magpie were supposed to be sparring, but they couldn’t be listening in more obviously.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Tim pouted.

“You’re not becoming Robin, Tim.”

Tim crossed his arms and held his chin high. Batman recognized that stance instantly, he did it fairly often himself. Maybe Clark had been right when he said that it was freaky to work alongside his kids because they all had the same body language during missions.

“I already talked to Bruce and he said that Batman needs a Robin.”

Honestly, what was it with his children lying to him?

Nevertheless, Bruce couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Did he really?”

And Tim had the audacity to nod, all serious like he wasn’t lying straight to Bruce’s face. His poker face was pretty already, not too many cracks in the mask. The kids had done an excellent job training and it would be a shame if that training went to waste.

So, Bruce really couldn’t argue against Tim, could he?

#dc #DC comics #bruce wayne #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #dick grayson #barbara gordon #fanfic #manor dad verse

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unavenged-robin · 5 years

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Juxtaposition - 3

Part 1 + Part 2

Tim hadn’t meant anything by it, honestly. He just happened to stumble into the kid while having a camera in his hands, and that was all. It hadn’t been his fault if Damian was too busy drawing and didn't notice him: the brat was supposed to be a baby ninja, after all. Another thing he was not responsible for was Damian being... photogenic. He would never use the word cute, not even to save his own life.

Point is, the kid was sitting there, under a tree, surrounded by his pets - Titus' big head on his leg, Alfred the cat curled up by his feet - his head bent over an old sketchbook, and a look of total focus on his face, and Tim didn’t even think about it, he raised the camera to his eye and took the photo.

Click.

Damian lifted his head, looking annoyed but not surprised. So maybe he had known about Tim being there. Maybe he just hadn’t care enough.

“Taking photos of people without their explicit consent is a felony, Drake”, he said, narrowing his eyes at Tim. “I could report you and have you arrested.”

Tim snorted and plopped down on the grass in front of the kid.

It was such a beautiful day. The sun was warm over the skin and the wind was like a gentle caress on the face. Even the colors looked like they were happy to exist; they were so intense they seemed to vibrate under his stare: the blue was so blue the sky could’ve very well been the ocean, the green was so green the whole garden could’ve been just one, giant new leaf of a young tree.

And Damian, Damian was a spot of red and black in all that green, like a tiny ladybug resting in the grass, and his eyes were also the greenest green Tim had seen for a while. He had smiled at the kid with a contented heart.

“You happen to be a minor, brat”, he reminded him with a bit of teasing in his voice. “And I'm listed as one of your legal guardians. That means that, until you're eighteen, I can pretty much do whatever I want with you.”

Damian looked up from his sketchbook to squint at him. His cheeks were sun-kissed and his nose was getting too red under the warm light of the afternoon, and Tim remembers how in that moment he had the sudden, shattering realization that he felt a not insignificant amount of affection for his brother. And that had not been the only time he’s ever felt that way, but it had perhaps been the first one.

Damian had dismissed him without a second thought.

“You are not my legal guardian.”

“I am too.”

The words stayed there for a moment, lingering between them, then Damian had frowned at him, out of curiosity more than outrage, Tim thought, as he choose to believe him.

“Why?”, he asked.

Tim turned his eyes away, lifting his face to observe the branches of the tree above them swaying slowly in the wind. He didn’t want to ruin the quiet.

“Because this family is a mess and Bruce wants to be sure that, if he decides to go take another stroll in the past again, you won't be left on your own”, he explained anyway. It was both a surreal and a serious affair, and they both knew it.

Damian had considered it for a moment, gnawing pensively at the tip of his pencil.

“I won't be left with you anyway”, he decided with a shrug. “You would have to go through Grayson's body to get me.”

Tim remembers how he had laughed at that.

“Yeah, that's true”, he had said. “Neither of us need to worry about it.”

Tim stares at the ceiling of his own bedroom like he expects some kind of answer coming down from there, along with a few friendly spiders he’s never had the time to chase away.

That afternoon used to be a good memory, once upon a time. Now it comes at him at night, haunting him with its bitter taste of unforeseen omen, and Tim wonders if Damian ever thinks about it, if he remembers it as clearly as he does.

He hopes not. He hopes that, at least for the kid, it’s not ruined.

There’s still some good stuff attached to that memory, though. Damian had wanted that photo, marched down to this very apartment to get it. And Tim had developed the film just for him, showed him how to do it and pretended not to notice how invested Damian was. That had been nice too: teaching the kid something new, something harmless they both enjoyed. Damian had let Tim guide his hands through the various proceedings, he had even obeyed every instruction with a minimum amount of huffs and scoffs. That had been another good day.

Fast forward, Tim hadn’t been there for Damian’s eleventh birthday, but he had bought him a camera and asked Alfred to pack it up in the most childish, colourful wrapping paper he could find, and to give it to the brat when he looked less willingly to throw it away without even bothering to unwrap it. And of course he hadn’t expected much in return, but to his surprise Damian had actually texted him a short and very formal thank you. That meant the little gremlin had loved the gift. Tim had been happy about it.

Those memories still makes him smile, even if now they leave a bitter aftertaste on his lips. Nice moments like those had been a rare thing, little pearls lost in the sand of the constant fights, the misunderstandings, and the mutual disinterest.

And now the world was all chaos and fragile things, and none of them really know what to do. Not Damian, freshly deprived of the only two father figures he had ever known; not Tim, who had found himself responsible for him; and sure enough not Jason, who had just got himself trapped in the whole mess.

Tim sighs and gets out of bed. The clock radio on the nightstand marks four o'clock in the morning, but there's no way he’s going back to sleep tonight, he's sure of that. Better to make some tea and keep working on tomorrow’s case. At least that’s the plan when he gets into the kitchen.

He goes as far as to put some water on the heat, then the memories of that afternoon comes back to needle him. There must be a box somewhere, filled with the photos from the first film he had developed for Damian, the first photos the kid had ever took in his life, as far as Tim knows. And e hadn't told Damian this - of course he hadn’t - but he'd made copies for himself. At the time he hadn't even ask himself why: he had just wanted to do it, so he had gone and done it.

He finds the box tucked away on the highest shelf of his library, covered by a thin layer of dust. Housekeeping’s never been his strongest suit.

A faint gurgling from the kitchen reminds him of the tea he was making. Tim retrieves it, pushes some jasmine leaves into the hot cup, then goes and sits on the couch. He shoots a quick look at Damian's room, but the door is closed and no light seeps from under it, no noise comes from the other side. The boy should be asleep.

For some reason he can’t explain, Tim feels a pang of guilt as he opens the box.

Damian’s photos are all there and Tim picks them up with a smile. It's funny looking at his family through the kid's eyes: everyone looks a lot taller, everything seems bigger. It's a bit of a déjà-vu, because Tim remembers well enough how the world looks like on a child scale.

The first bunch of photos are reserved to Damian's pet, of course. Here’s Titus, sleeping on the library’s rug or sitting at Damian’s feet, and Alfred the cat curled up on the windowsill. There’s Batcow eating some grass in the back of their courtyard, Goliath with its wings spread out, getting ready to fly. Tim knows Damian misses them. He wish he could at least give them back to him but he has no space for pets in his apartment, and they can’t go home anyway.

He puts those photos aside, and the next one hits him like a fist in the stomach. Here, in front of him, there’s Dick. He's smiling down, his lips upturned, the affection so clear in his eyes. Tim tries to imagine whatever absurd excuse Damian had tried to made up to justify his wish to have a picture of him, and he can’t think of anything, but it’s pretty obvious that Dick had seen right through the kid.

Damian is the subject of the next photo. Even if it hadn't came up right after Dick's one, Tim would've known anyway that Dick was the one who took it. It's the expression on Damian's face to give it away, that little not-really-annoyed-but-pretending-to-be-anyway scowl that holds the same affection of Dick's smile. He can see that moment so clearly in his mind. How Dick would’ve said something like you can take a picture of me only if I can take a picture of you, and Damian would’ve rolled his eyes and then indulge the blackmail with a secret happiness.

He laughs heartily at the following four photos. They are a set of unfocused, very awkward selfies of Damian and Stephanie, with her being the head of the operation, since Damian's arms would be too short to even attempt it. Damian’s glaring in the first photo and openly laughing in the last one, and Stephanie had been quick, albeit a little imprecise, at capturing that moment. The result is a blurry picture with a very strange angle, but it’s still one of Tim’s favorite.

There are a lot of pictures of Bruce. At first they were taken from a distance, and they portray him from behind, or busy doing something else: bending over his desk to write a letter, sitting in the armchair reading a book, standing in the kitchen with Alfred sipping a tea. They all give the idea of stolen moments, even if Bruce had probably known what the kid was doing. Tim could see him playing along, waiting for Damian to decide what worked best for him.

And of course Damian had eventually decided to make Bruce a part of the new hobby. The other shots still have a formal setting, very different from the spontaneity of the photos of Dick and Stephanie, but Bruce smiles in almost all of them and there’s a complicity and a quiet happiness that makes Tim’s heart ache. He misses Bruce. And he can only imagine how much Damian’s missing him too, how all this time apart is affecting him, his memories, his relationship with Bruce.

Tim brushes a cold fingertip over the pictures and wishes he could fix, if not everything, at least some of it. They can’t have Dick back, but Bruce is still there, still alive, and breathing, and living a life that doesn’t include them anymore, and if anything, it hurts almost as much as believing him to be dead.

He takes a quick look at all the photos again and he wonders how it is possible that none of them ever realized how important those moments were, how much they would have missed them once they were gone. For all the unspoken things and the cruel past, for all the miscommunications and the fights and the bickering, the truth of what there used to be between them as a family it’s just there in his hands: it was love, love and nothing else.

He hopes that Damian can see it too.

He flips through the pictures one last time, and this time he’s forced to notice how there are no photos of himself, or of Jason, for that matter. It shouldn't have been unexpected, but it stings anyway, even if only a little bit.

Tim’s considering what to do with the photos, if put them in their box and hide it again, or leave everything here on the coffee table for Damian to find, when he hears soft footsteps behind his back and the decision is taken out of his hands.

“Hey”, he says when the kid circumnavigates the couch to come standing in front of him.

“Want some tea?”, Tim offers, lifting his own cup.

Damian shakes his head no and curls up next to Tim, tucking his bare feet under him. He looks still half asleep, which is kind of a blessing right now. Tim has a good feeling about how Damian will take the news of the existence of those illegitimate copies of his pictures, but you never know.

“Mine are still in my room back at home, I believe”, Damian whispers, as he reaches out for the box. Tim lets him have it, and watches him closely as the boy collects all the pictures in his hands.

“Alfred would never let anyone touch your room while you’re away”, he reassures him, and since Damian’s just got to the picture of Dick, he slings an arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulls him closer.

“We’re going to need an album for them”, he says gently. “Like one of those Alfred has back home. We can make a new family album or something. Show it to him once everything goes back to normal, you know?”

Damian nods as he leans against Tim’s chest. He’s still warm from the bed, and his hair is a mess, but also soft under Tim’s chin. He’s wearing one of Jason’s old shirt because for the second week in a row Tim forgot to do the laundry, and he smells like Dick’s aftershave because that’s what Jason’s using now.

Tim holds Damian a bit closer. They are all trying to pick up the pieces as best as they can. It’s not easy.

“We could go to the park tomorrow”, he adds, because why not. “Bring Jason with us. Take some new photos for your album. What do you say?”

Damian moves closer to him, eyes still transfixed on Dick’s face.

“Yes”, he answers softly. “I would like that.”

#tim drake #damian wayne #tim&damian #my fic #shari writes #Why does this have a third part? I don't know #I just like keep exploring the idea of Damian staying with Tim and Jason while Bruce was all amnesiac and Dick all gone #and look at us now with the current canon being Dick all amnesiac and Bruce all gone!!#dc what the shit

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kieron-oduibhir · 6 years

Text

finals week

[AO3 version]

The dorm room door flew open with a maximum of drama. “Wilkes!”

Colin jolted awake. “Mnuh?” He blinked once, peeled his cheek from his physics textbook, and blinked again, this time at the roommate silhouetted in the door. “Wha’izzit, Damian? I was studying.

"And why aren’t you calling me Colin?” he asked, partly to stave off the inevitable smart remark about attempting to learn through osmosis and partly because it had occurred to him that a retreat to greater formality of address might mean his friend was angry with him. For some reason.

Damian waved off the question and strode through the doorway, shoving it closed behind him. As ever, the tiny room made him look even taller than his six feet four inches. “This is important.”

Colin blinked again, this time stubbornly. Nine years of friendship had taught him a lot. “I know you don’t think studying is important, but some of us have to work for our grades.”

Damian opened his mouth to say something dismissive, then closed it again. “Alright,” he said. “I will wait until you are ready to give me your full attention.”

And then he sat down, in his own desk chair. And propped his chin on his hands. And stared at Colin.

What he was employing wasn’t his glare—that could blister paint at twenty paces. It wasn’t even hostile. This was a sort of blend of truculent patience and resigned melancholy that he had probably perfected on his oldest brother, and Colin held out for fifteen minutes and three pages from which he absorbed very little, before leafing back to where he’d fallen asleep, sticking in a sheet of notes as a bookmark, and snapping the book closed. “Okay, fine. Like I can concentrate with you buzzing to tell me the thing.”

It wouldn’t, he reflected, have worked so well if Damian hadn’t genuinely (if poorly) been showing hard-learned self-restraint and respect for other people’s needs.

Though sometimes he wondered if his best friend only learned those things to win himself brownie points in the first place. (He shoved the little spark of anger down where he always put that kind of thing, knowing Abuse would drink it up and turn it into something useful.)

Still, it was what it was. Damian was a good friend and a good guy, even if he was also kind of a jerk.

Having gotten his way, Damian returned to that sweeping magnanimity that said he was feeling very pleased with himself. He rolled his chair over so he could lean into Colin’s space and whisper, “I’m going to be Batman next week.”

He straightened up and said a little louder, “Father’s…out of town for the week, and Grayson’s hurt his foot. And Cain declined,” he added, making a sour face that there had been someone in the line of consideration between the previous Batmans and himself.

(Also, the significant-pause type of out-of-town usually meant outer space. Was Mr. Wayne ever going to slow down? He had to be almost sixty by now.)

“Wow,” Colin said, meaning it completely. “That’s awesome. You think you’re ready?”

“Born ready,” Damian volleyed back, and Colin laughed. “More seriously,” Damian continued, “I do think I’m ready, but I want you watching my back.”

The depth of sincerity in Damian’s eyes when he said things like that never failed to blow Colin away. No one had ever needed him before, not really, but Damian had never stopped. So he almost opened his mouth to say, Of course.

Instead he caught up with himself and said, “Won’t…Tim��be there?”

Incredulous look. “You want me to trust my back on my first excursion to someone who hates me?”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Damian’s eyebrows begged to differ.

“Well, if he does, it’s only in proportion to things you’ve done to make him. It’s not like he’s going to sabotage you.”

“Tt. I am uninterested in the justness of Drake’s feelings. My feelings are that I want you with me, not him.”

Colin kind of liked Redhawk, who was sensible and had never taken out his feelings toward Damian on Colin, but it wasn’t worth pursuing the topic. He’d been pushed back to his real objection. “It’s finals week. Next week. All week.”

“Which means we’ll only be bound to school obligations for between zero and three hours each day. Convenient.”

Colin was already shaking his head. “No. I know how these things go, remember? I’m not risking missing exams because a chase ran long, and the rest of that time I need to be studying. Or resting.”

He swallowed, because the look Damian was giving him was making him feel like such a traitor, but he knew he was in the right. “I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal to you. Your future is assured no matter what; even if you flunk everything nothing bad will happen. But I need to score high. I need to do well, I need my scholarship because I need my degree, I need to be able to support myself.”

“I can always support you,” Damian grumbled, looking away in the way he did when Colin had a point but he didn’t want to actually concede.

Colin half-laughed. “Seven,” he said, and Damian groaned. He’d had no idea how often he sounded like he was proposing marriage until Colin started keeping him updated on the monthly total. (Damian had assured him he was not romantically interested; Colin had been far more relieved than disappointed. He wasn’t sure if he was attracted to Damian or not, but he did know being Damian’s best friend and his boyfriend at the same time would smother anyone to death.) “But anyway, that’s…not something I want.”

Damian nodded, because even if he liked to ignore such details he did realize that having to be dependent for everything on generosity, even your best friend’s, would be awful. “I understand,” he said.

Flopped his weight backward in his fancy upholstered black-leather ergonomic swiveling desk chair. (Colin had an identical one a size smaller; they’d arrived in the mail at the same time and Damian had assembled them both without comment, and made the wooden chairs that had come with the room disappear.) Let out a breath. “I suppose Brown and Cain will turn up,” he allowed. “Unfortunately there’s no real chance of Todd staying away. Gordon’s promised to be on comms.”

“I like your family,” said Colin. Though they were pretty over-the-top. He was only sometimes jealous.

“Hmph. They’re all idiots.” Which was to say, Damian loved them. Even Redhawk, Colin was pretty sure. He’d spent an entire session of their three-hour Achaemenid Archeology seminar staring straight through the professor with eyes like chips of stone, that time last semester Drake had been missing, presumed dead.

“But I am certainly capable of handling myself on my own,” the incipient Batman announced in his third-snootiest voice. “You will simply have to clear space in your busy study schedule to listen to tales of my exploits.”

Colin laughed. “Pretty sure I can manage that much.”

A smile pulled at Damian’s mouth, and…it was just a little sad. The way he looked when, on rare occasions, he talked about his mother.

Feeling like a complete idiot, Colin realized that what Damian wanted next week wasn’t really Abuse’s strength to guard him. He knew he was ready for the fighting, had been preparing for this all his life and facing Batman’s enemies for nine years as Robin by now. He wasn’t scared.

This was what he’d been working towards his whole life. He wanted his best friend there to see it. Saying no was like if Damian dropped out of Gotham U, and then refused to come to Colin’s graduation.

He sighed. “I’ll come on Monday night,” he said. “Tuesday is just Spanish Literature in the afternoon, and I know the material already.”

“You can tell me about it while we work,” declared Damian, surprise at the sudden turnaround already melting into a cat-soft satisfaction as he settled more comfortably into the thronelike depths of his chair.

Batman, swinging from roof to roof in the company of a hulking rage monster that was lecturing him on the life and times of Gabriel García Marquez.

…Colin was already looking forward to it.

#batman #damian wayne #colin wilkes #fanfic #batfic #here have an obsolete future #i found it in a drawer

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