#“Oh you should have seen Robin- she was curled up in the nest all protectively over Robin who didn't want to take a nap”

[puppetmaster13u]

You're not going to believe it but I am in fact drinking a smoothie right now and almost choked on it laughing when I read this.

First of all, I absolutely adore AUs where Gotham believes the Bats are something More. I bet they first started thinking it around when Dick became Robin, like that's when it first spread from just the worst of the worst areas to ones that are slightly better off.

But I bet it really explodes when Cardinal appears. Enough for Outsiders to notice, for the small homemade shrines to no longer be hidden in alleys and homes. Because while there's been mass revivals in DC before, it is said repeatedly that Jason's revival is different. And I freaking bet that the Gothamites can tell. Especially whenever the Pit coils around him during patrol. Cardinal (Which can I just say, perfect bird for him) smells of both life and death.

Which kind of random but again, Cardinal is a perfect name for Jason. Those birds have a couple different meanings/myths but they're seen as the messenger from beyond the grave throughout so many different places. Some sailors even got tattoos of cardinals so that they might carry their souls to the afterlife if they died at sea.

And Oh my god, Barbara being known as both Batgirl and the Cuckoo is such a fun idea. I wonder if she leans into that as Oracle, making sure to look almost completely 'normal' with something off. Like something merely mimicking.

Question is if these are their normal vigilante names or something Gotham alone calls them, like some true name thing.

Gosh, do you think Gothamites treat some of them as embodiments of the different dynamics? Like Batman is already seen as the feral mom of Gotham, and so far only Nightingale/Nightwing is an alpha in the vigilante family. Hm...

Oh my god Damian is following Tim like a little duckling and there's definitely some drake/duck jokes. Small teasing ones of course. Never any cruel ones. Mostly just buying Tim a duck-themed hoodie and Damian a duckling onesie and getting the most adorable video ever. Though yess, he definitely likes to be just completely encompassed by his pack's scents. Buries himself in the middle of the nest with everyone else curled around the progressively younger pack members.

PFFT, it'd be hilarious if the video is how everyone learned about Bruce Wayne's newest child. He's so small and loves his big brothers so much, just look at him!

OH MY GOD. We haven't even talked about the fun identity shenanigans. Like Bruce Wayne is everywhere, even without those gossip magazines trying to stir up a scandal and getting an angry pup after them. Meanwhile the league barely knows about Batman's family due to his well-founded paranoia and anxiety. Especially about the ones who don't know how to pup or were mistreated. Do you think they'd gossip about the magazines as well and turn expectantly towards B asking what he thinks about it lol

Bruce is amused when Tim huffs up to him and says he has an interview to do to stop the stupid magazines from saying he's a bad dad. Well, he's amused until Tim complains about a reporter trying to grab him while he was at school before Steph and several other kids decided biting was more than okay in that situation.

Hey mutual, figure the third Omegaverse thing was startin to get long again lol. So I thought I'd respond here instead >:3 (Also have links to the previous ones for easy access lmao) 1_ 2_ 3_

You know what would be kind of adorable? If it was Tim who got all angry at the gossip magazines. Everyone else is used to it and finds it kind of funny after all, since as you said, people outside of Gotham don't know the nuances of Gothamite body language. But Tim has been slowly coaxed into acting like a pup, been reassured that him acting like that is okay and is perfectly natural. So seeing people trying to claim Bruce isn't a good caretaker in a way that straight up targets that behavior? Oh baby boi is going to throw a fit.

Also love the idea of even other Gothamites going, yeah, the bats are more than a little feral, even for us lol. They've seen it all from the gleeful murder-baby first Robin to the trying-to-bite-your-ears-off second Robin to gonna-jump-off-this-bridge-and-take-you-with-me Batgirl. To the big bat himself who will see what could account as a straight up mob worth of people and go yeah I can fight that, and actually does, and wins.

Like that's just utterly hilarious to me lol.

Actually, before I forget, I feel like Damian's and Tim's relationship would be better in this. Seeing as Damian is younger and both Tim and Dick are very familiar with being unfamiliar with pup behavior or being forced to try and stop doing it. Which thankfully it wasn't to the extent of Tim, but still. He's the itty bitty baby of the pack who doesn't want to let anyone go the moment he realizes they won't betray him. Similar to how Tim is once he finally realizes the Waynes won't leave him and actually want him to stay.

Also remind me to sketch out the different fangs when my hands aren't shaking lol

Oh Tim DEFINITELY rips into the gossip mags.

He may be a lil pup and semi-recently got placed with the Wayne Pack, but by GOD is he going to send some angry emails.

Honestly I can see him reaching out to the daily planet as ‘Bruce’ and setting up an interview to clear it all up.

But until that happens, Tim gets scruffed and brought into the nest SO often to calm him down.

Like. Calm down pup! You are TOO angy!

Speaking of Tim and Damian’s relationship- they have the best relationship by far in the Pack. Tim can and will throw down for his new little brother. And the brotherly instincts he never had before (and thusly never had to stifle before) doesn’t help either.

Dami is more or less constantly following either his Mum, Jason, or Tim.

If he has to, he’ll tag along with Dick and Alfred, but in order of his favorite pack members Tim is definitely up there with Jason and Bruce.

He can and will use the fact that he’s just an itty bitty pup and whine and whine to get carried around. He may be an independent pup, and he DOES like to wander around on his own, but he absolutely loves being engulfed by his packmate’s scents.

It’s so very different to when he first left the cloning pod and all he could smell was blood and sterile alcohols.

And finally for how Gotham views the Feral Bats??

It’s DEFINITELY like that. Gotham is in awe over their guardians (and I can’t help but see them putting the Batfamily up as embodiments of the city, Gothamites definitely definitely made shrines for the Batfamily that dot about the city)

The Agent, the one who walked the streets long before the Bat flew for the first time, who holds ears in the highest of places and knows far too much that he rarely shares with others. The one who was only connected to the bats far, far down the line.

The Motherly-Protective Bat who has claws like in the old days, who bares his fangs and rips into flesh with no hesitation to protect his city-pups and actual pups. Who dragged the first of the costumed rogues back to Arkham by sheer force and detective skills.

The First Robin who was gleefully blood thirsty, somehow the most animalistic of the pack as he chirped and trilled and danced in the air. Flying like his namesake as he bares his puppy fangs in a barely constrained aggressive smirk.

The Batgirl (Cuckoo) who nearly flew as well as the First Robin, the one who chirped and warbled and forced herself into the Bat’s nest and first showed the City what happened to those who hurts those the Bat holds dear and who showed what happened to who the Bat deems as unwelcome to his territory.

The Nightingale, the first of the robins to grow up, the one with fangs he never hid and a voice as sweet as his feathers. The one who talks as much as he growls, the one who shreds his enemies with enough cheer and electricity to drown a clown.

The Second Robin, (Cardinal, clad in blood reds and spiked feathers, somehow still in the familiar designs of the First Robin) the one taken far too soon who didn’t quite fly as he did glide. The one who hid in his mother’s cape, only leaving to fight and protect-protect-protect just like his mother. The one who showed what happened to those who ignore that they were chased out of the Bat’s territory.

The Third Robin (Crow, Clad in blacks and shiny feathers but still the familiar Robin design) The one who is too smart for his own good- the one who ended the grip that the Bat’s bloodstained claws held on the city. He clings to his mother, only leaving to find more of his pack.

The Forth Robin, (Starling, purples and blacks and shimmering feathers that seem to mirror your face back at you) The blending of Batgirl and Robin, the one who was dragged into the Bat Pack when Crow wandered too far from his mother and needed her help finding his way back to the nest. All the gracefulness of the Bats and the Aggressiveness of the Robins twirled into one sparkling purple attack.

The Cardinal, the second of the robins to grow up, the one who took the name that was whispered in the alleys as his own. Who came into the scene with a splash of blood as bright and soaking as his initial departure. Who’s eyes glow with Unseen bloodlust and protection that followed his mother’s steps.

[moonbeambucky]

A Wealth of Love

Pairing: Hal Carter x Reader Word Count: 5618 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: The only thing Hal Carter is wealthy in is love but will his forbidden romance last when his past comes back to haunt him?

A/N: This is my submission for @baezen​​​​​​​​​ The other guys writing challenge. My prompt was “Those things you said yesterday…Did you mean them?” Thank you to my love @all1e23​​​​​​​​​ for beta reading 🍕❤️ pic source (x)

Bright sunlight streams in through the windows made brighter by the all white finishings of the large kitchen. This particular afternoon is a hot one, more humid than the last few days and Y/N knows that not everyone can enjoy the comforts of her family’s perfectly air conditioned home. 

A quick search through the cabinets and she finds two large mason jars. Pulling open the fridge she takes out the pitcher of lemonade and in the oversized pantry she pulls out the container of muffins she made earlier that morning. She hums a tune mindlessly as she fills one jar with lemonade, nearly startled by a voice behind her.

“Is this really necessary Y/N?” her stepmother asked, with frustration laced in her tone.

Y/N is quiet as she sets the pitcher down, screwing on the lid and making sure it was tight. With a quiet roll of her eyes she resumed what she was doing. 

“At least you aren’t using the good glassware.” Y/N ignored her snippy comment, having learned not to engage her in conversations like this. 

She sets her items in a basket, filling the other mason jar with ice as the final step before she leaves through the backdoor, finally letting out her own frustrated huff when she was no longer in earshot of her stepmother.

Y/N walked down the freshly manicured grass of the expansive acreage to get to the large white barn where Hal Carter was hard at work. He was the stable hand and has been working for Y/N’s family for almost two years. 

Hal was six feet tall, with strong arms made stronger every day by the work he does. The outline of his muscles could be seen through the plaid button downs he would wear and sometimes take off on the days when he was already overheating in thick jeans and boots. A gentle smile accompanied beautiful blue eyes and soft brown hair that would start to curl when sweat soaked his strands. 

Y/N liked seeing Hal, not just because of how incredible he looks as sweat shines over his body- the image of him lifting his shirt to wipe at his brow, exposing a perfectly carved stomach will forever be seared in her mind- but because he’s kind to her and he doesn’t expect anything from her unlike the rest of the world.

Her father doesn’t understand Y/N’s silly little dream of being a teacher. She had just completed her first year of having her own class and honestly he had hoped the whole ordeal had turned her off. He doesn’t see the point of working anywhere that pays so little and she’s tired of having arguments with him about forgetting his own roots, busting his ass with two jobs and still barely making ends meet until he found success with a patent which launched his business. He would scoff at his past, ashamed of the fact that he wasn’t born into wealth like his wife. 

Unlike her father who felt she should be at a job earning a lot, Y/N’s stepmother didn’t understand why she wanted to work at all. If it were up to her she would have her married off to William Archer III. He was an investment banker who also came from money like Y/N, having attended the same private school but that’s where their similarities ended. 

Y/N was disgusted by his attitude and how little William cared for anyone other than himself. He was a spoiled rich kid that hasn’t worked a real day in his life and never would. His company was his father’s as it was his father’s before him, and the only thing William was actually good at was profiting off the backs of those who work ten times as hard at a fraction of what he makes. 

William constantly pursued Y/N because she turned him down. He liked the challenge, thinking of her as nothing more than game to be hunted, another one of his hobbies that Y/N despises, but instead of mounting her head on the wall he’ll mount her on display around his arm as a picture perfect trophy wife. 

Hal was surprised by Y/N’s refreshing demeanor from the start. He knows his role as staff but unlike the rest of her family Y/N has never made him feel less than. She was a kindhearted soul and quite frankly sometimes he doesn't believe she’s actually related to them. 

The first time Hal met Y/N he was cleaning out one of the stalls in the stables. He took a moment to pause and wipe the sweat from his brow, nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw her standing there. She was beautiful, there was no doubt in his mind about that, and even more beautiful as she stood there flashing a radiant smile as she apologized for scaring him. She was coming in to check on one the horses, Percy, to see firsthand if his stomach issues had gotten better.

The smell alone in the stables was enough to keep her family away but Y/N didn’t mind at all, grabbing a manure fork of her own before Hal had the chance to protest so she could inspect the droppings herself. 

“He’s doing much better now Miss Y/L/N,” Hal said. She took note of the slightest hint of a Midwest accent in his voice though it was mostly undetectable. 

“I’m so happy to hear that,” she beamed, setting the fork aside and stepping forward to see the horses enjoying their day on the open lawn. She spotted Percy grazing on the grass and her heart lifted, glad to see that he was doing better. “Oh, and it’s just Y/N,” she said, looking over her shoulder back at Hal.

The formality her parents required from those they employ is not for her. Y/N knew they were privileged to have a group of people working for them, in the house and on the grounds; but Y/N always felt her parents would forget that these people were actual humans with lives that didn’t and shouldn’t revolve around their family and not robotic slaves meant to carry out all their wishes without complaint.

Hal gave a respectable nod to her, curbing his smile to a professional one as he excused himself back to work. 

Their interactions increased over time, especially with Y/N spending a lot of time with her favorite horse Penelope. She liked to brush her down and bring her apples she picked from the trees on property, and whenever they went riding Hal couldn’t take his eyes off her.

When Y/N was saddled up on Penelope’s back it seemed like it was the only time she truly felt in control of her life. It was true. Riding allowed her the time to clear her mind and with the wind in her hair she let go of everything outside of that moment.

But there was one thing that she couldn’t shake from her thoughts, Hal Carter. 

It didn’t take long before for their friendship to develop and quite soon after a forbidden romance. It was something they worked hard at, deleting texts right after sending them, hiding their pictures together. Y/N’s stepmother had a tendency to snoop so she did everything she could to protect their relationship. 

Hal tasted the lemonade from her lips, his calloused hands wrapped around Y/N’s waist, backing her up towards the wall to steal more of the sweetness he couldn’t get enough of and he didn’t mean the drink. 

Her lips were soft against his, a heavenly touch that set every part of him aflame. The idea of sneaking around made both their hearts race, every noise keeping them on edge with “what ifs” racing through their minds. If they were caught Hal would surely be fired and though they wouldn’t have to hide their relationship any more that’s not something Y/N wanted.

Hal rarely spoke to her about money; she understood and didn’t push the issue. She knew his financial situation wasn’t the best and that despite her parent’s attitude towards the staff they actually paid them surprisingly well. It wasn’t something he ever flaunted but it wasn’t something neither of them could deny. 

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like all of this could slip away from him, that one day Y/N will wake up and realize what a big mistake she made. She could date anybody, someone her parents’ won’t turn their nose up to, someone who could afford to take her out. Not even to a fancy place because Hal knows she doesn’t care about that but he’s ashamed he can’t even take her anywhere. 

“Darlin’, you deserve everything.” The corner of his lips sunk into a frown as he sighed, “And I can’t give you that.”

“Hal, I have everything and I don’t want it, I only want you.” 

He was shocked by her admission, still finding it hard to believe. “I’m nothing Y/N. I have nothing. I’m lucky I even have this job.”

She brushed the hair away from his eyes, letting her hand move down cup the soft skin of his cheek, warm against her palm. “What do you want Hal? You don’t have to work for my family forever. Whatever’s holding you back I’ll help.”

He smiled, taking her hand off his cheek to kiss the delicate knuckles of her skin. She knows what he’s doing, changing the subject when he doesn’t want to answer. Again, she doesn’t push him.

“Follow me,” he said, letting go of her hands. 

They walk along the fence of the pasture, down the slope of a small hill before they stop at a bright red maple tree. Hal adjusts Y/N to stand in the right spot, his solid frame behind her, leaning in as he points his finger up between the branches.

“Can you see?” he asked, and she tried to follow the line of sight for his finger. 

She isn’t sure what she’s looking for until she sees it, the slightest movement of a robin moving its head, spying on them from her nest.

“She’s been sittin’ on those eggs for a week now,” Hal said, smiling because he knows Y/N’s love of animals is not just for horses. They’ll be hatching soon and he can’t wait to bring her to see them. 

If this is what their dates are for now then Hal doesn’t mind it at all. Any time spent with her he’s grateful for but Y/N knows she’s been gone for too long and knowing her stepmother she probably set a timer the moment Y/N walked out of the door. 

Back in the stables she packs up the empty mason jars and reluctantly says goodbye. Hal holds her close as they kiss, the slip of his tongue in her mouth makes her yearn for more. A soft hum bubbles in her throat before she grabs the back of his head, deepening the kiss as their tongues dance together. 

They get carried away and Hal falls back into a pile of hay, protecting Y/N in his arms as she falls on top of him. With a final press to his lips she gets up, extending her hands out to Hal to pull him up. He helps wipe off any hay that may have gotten attached to her, watching her figure get smaller the further she walks away from him as she makes her way back to the main house.

With a heavy sigh Hal gets back to work, knowing for now their secret is kept by the horses, the only ones who seemed to be rooting for them. 

“What took you so long?” Her stepmother scowled, throwing her a sharp accusatory glare. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, opening the basket to take out the mason jars. Over her shoulder she responded, “You know how I like to spend time with Penelope.”

As she washes the glasses Y/N can’t see the disapproving shake of her stepmother’s head, especially as she sees a strand of hay stuck on the fabric of Y/N’s leg. She doesn’t say anything. The clack of her heels echo through the large home as she stomps her way out of the kitchen, not liking this one bit.

Y/N comes down the grand stairway when dinner is ready, her hand languidly gliding down the banister. It’s not that she didn’t want to eat with her parents, she didn’t mind their company as long as they didn’t pester her about the things that parents do, but she was tired of seeing them. 

Going away for college had been a wonderful escape, to be Y/N Y/L/N, regular college student and not the girl with a rich family. Her father was right, teaching does not pay well but she isn’t doing it for the money. However she did need to save a bit so she could move out and finally be on her own. She had assets in a trust fund but she refused to use them, wanting to prove to her family that she didn’t need their money.

“There she is,” the somewhat familiar voice of a man called out.

Y/N lifted her head, frozen in shock to find William Archer III sitting at her dining table. 

A cheshire cat smile stretched across her stepmother’s face. “Look who came by!” she feigned surprise. Y/N knew her stepmother had called him the moment she left to see Hal. 

There was plenty of space at the table but most of the chairs had been removed, leaving only one open and unsurprisingly it was next to William. Y/N plastered a smile to her face and held the back of the chair, moving it as far away from him as she could before she was scolded by her stepmother. It was embarrassing, especially when her father chimed in to remind her that they don’t treat guests this way. If only they knew what he was really like. Reluctantly, she returned the chair to its spot next to him though she kept a greater distance than where it was originally. 

Y/N wondered if she was the only one who noticed the way William would speak wildly with his hands, these big gestures that involved movement of his whole body giving him an excuse to adjust his chair again and somehow he had ended up right beside her. She ignored him as best as she could, moving her leg away each time his hand “just happened” to brush against her thigh. 

She tries her best to be pleasant despite the very unpleasant circumstances, making small talk when William didn’t talk over her. 

“Hal says the robin chicks will be born soon. I can’t wait to see them,” Y/N beamed, her smile fading as she caught the tail end of her stepmother’s eye roll. 

“Oh, I didn’t know Hal was an avian expert now. Honey perhaps we should give him a raise, a man with such an extensive animal background,” her stepmother said sarcastically.

“That’s because he is one!” William chimed in, bursting out with a round of belly aching laughter, a duet with her stepmother’s own cackling.

Y/N expected that from her but she was even more disappointed to see her father snickering. 

“That’s enough!” She slammed her hand against the table, the flame of the candlesticks wobbling back to a steady flicker. “I’m sick and tired of all you thinking you’re better than Hal or anyone else just because you have money. It’s disgusting.”

Her father clenched his jaw, “I know you like to forget this Y/N but you have money too. Stop acting like it’s something you’re so ashamed of. I worked hard to give us what we have.”

“Did you?” she asked accusingly. “Because it’s been so long since you had to bust your ass like Hal I think you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a decent person!”

Her stepmother balked in disgust. “Young lady you do not speak to your father this way.”

Y/N ignored her as she got up from the table, stomping her way out of the house. The evening air was cool and she felt immediate relief on her skin that burned hot after her emotionally fueled eruption. Her stepmother has always been a snob but she hates the fact that her father has lost touch with reality. 

“Hey.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose upon hearing William’s voice, the last person she wanted to ever see. Hal was in the distance, working late and she was hoping to say goodbye to him before he left. Now that William’s here she can’t. 

Turning around she huffed, not hiding her contempt. William’s hands were up in a small attempt to convey that he wasn’t looking for trouble. 

“Are you okay?” His tone seemed sincere but Y/N kept her guard up. “I know you don’t like me but I do care about you Y/N. I always have.” 

She knows better than to trust him but something inside her breaks and she lets out a shuddering sob. Y/N didn’t want to feel the way she does about her parents but she can’t help it. She wished her parents were better people, she wished she could openly speak to them about how she feels, and not having to hide her relationship with Hal. She wishes things were different.

William hesitantly offers a hug and in desperation Y/N takes it, crying against him. “It’ll be okay,” he comforts, rubbing her back.

With her back turned she doesn’t see the smirk on William’s face as he spots Hal in the distance. He lets Y/N pull away, feeling comfortable enough to have gained his trust for a moment before he acts. Like a leech he grabs her face, forcing her lips to his, his tongue probing forcefully into her mouth.

Y/N is pushing him off with her hands as best as she could, scrunching her face and whipping her head around to get away from him. Her efforts don’t take her very far as his lips get closer again so instead she kicks him in between his legs. 

William doubles over in pain. “You little bitch!” he sneered, grabbing her by the hair as she tried to run away. 

His clenched hand raised to her but immediately felt his arm wrench back. He was turned around forcibly by Hal, whose own fist socked William right in the jaw. The hard punch took the coward down and while he was busy screaming expletives Hal went to Y/N.

“Darlin’, did he hurt you?” The softness of Hal’s voice brought tears to her eyes that fell down her cheeks as she shook her head. She found true comfort in Hal’s arms, apologizing for what had happened. “Shhh, you have nothin’ to apologize for,” he reassured her. 

“You’ll pay for putting your hands on me y-you… dirty lowlife scum!” William threatened, walking away from them. 

Hal’s jaw clenched with anger but Y/N’s gentle palm caressing his cheek made him release his tension. 

“I’m sorry Hal,” she said, and once again he stopped her but this time with a soft kiss to her lips. Y/N had nothing to be sorry for but on nights like this Hal felt sorry for her, thinking she wouldn’t have to go through this if she gave her heart to a better man than him.

There’s a knocking at her door and before she can get up her stepmother has already let herself into Y/N’s room. “We need to talk about what happened...” she said, settling down on Y/N’s bed beside her. Y/N braced herself for a lecture before her stepmother finished. “...after you left.”

Relief washed over her believing the serious look on her stepmother’s face was not meant to scold her but about what happened with William.

“I hope you saw what I’ve been telling you, William is–”

“William? Y/N no, this is about Hal.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Hal?”

“He assaulted William. Your father and I need to reconsider his employment.”

She stared at her stepmother in disbelief. Was she actually naive enough to believe what William told her? Y/N answered her own question as her stepmother continued to talk about “poor William” and how he had to drive home holding a bag of ice to his face.

“William is a liar. He forced himself on me! Hal was only trying to protect me. How do you not see this?”

Her stepmother took Y/N’s hand in her own, awkward and unsure if this felt right or not. She was unable to have children of her own and perhaps that’s why she treated Y/N so poorly from the start, resenting her and never truly accepting her as her daughter. Y/N was passed off to au pairs and maids to be cared for as her stepmother went shopping or to the spa. Y/N has always felt disconnected to her stepmother and even more so now.

“Sweetheart, I know men like Hal. They’re fine to look at but they can’t provide for you, not the way William can.”

“You don’t know the first thing abou–” Y/N’s cheek stung at the unexpected slap she received. 

“Don’t tell me what I know because I know exactly what you’ve been up to with Hal. Stay away from him. Hal is not the one for you.”

Y/N rose from her bed, stomping as she paced in front of her stepmother, waving her finger in her face as she told her off. 

“I’m leaving. I’m going to get Hal and we’re leaving and there’s nothing you can do about that!”

“He isn’t here.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed at her stepmother, her nostrils flaring, teeth clenching together as she hissed, “What did you do?”

“Nothing! He asked for the day off, though his days are numbered. As soon as we find someone to take his position…” her stepmother said without hiding the joy in her voice. She sauntered out of Y/N’s room feeling proud, not giving a single care she broke down crying. 

Her vision was clouded by tears as she texted Hal, wondering why he didn’t tell her he wouldn’t be there today. It took a few hours for him to respond, every waiting minute adding to her anxiety but when he finally did she was able to take a deep breath. Hal reassured her that he was fine and wondered if she could meet him later. 

Y/N told her family she was going shopping as she headed out, instead she drove to Hal’s. They were only twenty minutes apart and yet they lived in such different worlds. The homes in Hal’s area were older, small ranch style houses on lots smaller than her home’s driveway. She had so much more than this community and yet they had everything she wanted. 

She sees a dog being walked by a couple, hand in hand as they stroll down the sidewalk not worried about hiding their love. Y/N comes to a stop in the street to let the children playing move to the side. She gives a friendly smile as she slowly rolls past them, seeing their happy faces in the rear view mirror. She wonders if anyone can see how she aches behind her smile, desperate to be as happy as them one day. She parks behind his truck on the street and texts that she’s there.

When Hal came to New York he was sleeping in his truck, desperate for a place to stay. His friend Peter offered him a room which Hal helped close off and renovate into an unofficial one bedroom apartment in the back of the house. Peter needed the cash to pay his mortgage so it worked out for both of them. 

Y/N had been over a dozen times but Hal was embarrassed every time she did. His place was small but he kept it as nice as he could. He didn’t have much furniture, a bed, a pretty beat up looking couch, a small table that barely fit in his small kitchen. She told him over and over how she didn’t care about material things and deep down Hal knows that but he can’t help those feelings anyway.

She runs into his arms, enveloped by his warmth as he squeezes her tight. “I missed you darlin’,” he cooed as he tips her chin with his fingers, pressing his lips to hers.

“What happened today?” Y/N can’t help the worry woven through her words.

He takes her by the hand and they sit on his bed; he never liked Y/N sitting on that dirty couch of his. 

“I had something to take care of today�� for our future.” She looks at him with hopeful eyes. “I had some trouble in my past, surprised it didn’t catch up to me yet to be honest. Once this is over I can work anywhere, we can live that life we want darlin’.”

Tears roll down her cheek, their path altered by the curve of her smile. Hal’s thumb brushes them away gently, bringing his lips to her forehead and after the softness of her lips. Clothes are slowly discarded and Hal takes his time making love to her, joining her passionate cries with moans of his own as they peak together to the heights of bliss.

He cradles her in his arms, his fingertips grazing soft circles over her back as they lay together for as long as they could, knowing Y/N would have to leave soon. The time comes sooner than they wanted and with reluctance they get dressed. 

A knock at the door startled them both, the sound of a voice even more shocking.

“Y/N! I know you’re in there!” her stepmother taunted, banging roughly against the glass pane of the screen door.

Her jaw dropped open in shock as she could only think about what a psycho her stepmother was. “Did she follow me?” Y/N whispered to Hal, panic washing over her. 

There was no point in hiding anymore, not if her parents really were firing Hal, and if that was a bluff they most certainly would now. 

Hand in hand they proudly step out from his door onto the small pathway on the side of the house. It’s there when Y/N’s jaw drops in shock to see William standing beside her stepmother, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder with two police officers.

“That’s him,” William points at Hal, a smug look plastered on his face. 

A man as tall as Hal took a step towards him, roughly separating his hand from Y/N’s as he began to cuff his hands behind his back, reading him his rights as he walked Hal towards the police car parked crookedly in the driveway. 

“What are you doing?” Y/N pleaded for an answer. 

William answered her question, informing Y/N that Hal had a warrant out for his arrest for auto theft in Kansas. She realized that’s what Hal must have been talking about. 

“I have friends everywhere Y/N and I will make this harder for him unless…” William tried to lace his fingers with hers but Y/N quickly snapped her arm away. 

She watched helplessly as Hal was stuffed into the back of the car, wiping away the tears that began to fall. Her stepmother sauntered up beside her, making some comment about how appalled she was that she had a fugitive working for her, that’s when Y/N snapped.

“Enough! I don’t give a shit what you say. Fugitive or not Hal’s a better person than you’ll ever be. I love him, I love him with every piece of my heart and I’m going to do everything in my power to stop this.” 

The car drove away with Hal craning his neck around, not knowing if he would ever be able to see Y/N again.

“Hal! Are you okay?” Y/N said, hugging him with all her might. 

The breeze on his skin felt nice but it was nothing compared to having her in his arms again. “Much better now darlin’,” he replied, squeezing his arms around her. 

Hal spent the night in jail, calling Y/N to ask for her help. He explained everything, that back in Kansas he had borrowed his friend Alan’s car to take a girl named Madge out on a date. Alan’s jealousy got the best of him and he reported the car as stolen. They haven’t spoken since.

Once Y/N got Hal’s call she contacted her attorney, sought out every Alan Seymour she could find before she narrowed it down to the one he went to college with. She spent all morning working with the attorney to have him stop the extradition proceedings and arrange for bail instead. She couldn’t think of a better thing to use the money from her trust fund on.

“I’m so sorry about all of this darlin’, I never meant for it to come out like this. Alan coulda taken it back then but he was still mad ‘nd probably worried about lyin’ to the police.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Hal,” she assured him, cupping his cheeks with her hand. He pressed against her palm, his lips pulling into a small smile as he looked at her. “I can’t believe my stepmother had you arrested. I hate her. I hate my father. I hate what they’ve become. Let’s go away together.”

As the words fell from her lips every part of Hal’s body stiffened with worry. He was about to ask a question before Y/N interrupted him. 

“I’m done with them Hal. I don’t care how hard I have to work to put this behind us. We’ll get through this together because that’s how I want to spend the rest of our lives.”

It was hard to hide the way Hal’s lips were pressed into a thin smile. He didn’t tell Y/N the full story, that Madge came with him when he left Kansas, to get away from her family too. By the time they got into Missouri she turned around, realizing she couldn’t leave them. 

This was different though. Hal didn’t care if Madge came or not, he didn’t feel the same way about her as he does with Y/N, which is why this is so hard for him.

“Those things you said yesterday…Did you mean them?” Hal asked, holding her hands in his. Y/N nodded and Hal let out a sigh. “I love you too Y/N but I can’t ask you to choose between me and your family.”

Her heart skipped a beat but not in the way Hal had made it done in the past. This pain was sharp in her chest and she would have fallen down if Hal hadn’t been holding her. Those were the last words she expected. 

“But you’re not asking Hal, this is my choice.”

“I know darlin’ but trust me on this, if we ran away we’d be happy but in the back of your mind I know how you’d feel, wonderin’ if your parents were okay because I know deep down you love ‘em and it would break my heart to see you tryin’ to cover that up. I can’t put that on you.”

“Hal, please…” she cried. “Don’t say this.”

This is the last thing Hal wants, Y/N is everything he’s ever wanted in life but things were always too good to be true for him. He was doing this for her even though it hurts, because Y/N deserves the best. 

“I love you Y/N, more than anything in this world. I know I can’t ever repay you for gettin’ me out, and I know your parents think I’ll never be good enough for ya but–”

“You’re wrong son.” 

A familiar voice has their heads turning around to find Y/N’s father standing there. 

“Dad? What are you doing here?” Y/N was confused, unaware of the way she took a protective step in front of Hal.

“I came to bail out Mr. Carter but it seems you’ve already done that. I wanted to tell him that Mr. Seymour has been contacted and he will be revoking his initial claim.”

“Sir, I appreciate that but I can’t ask anything of you,” Hal began.

“You didn’t have to. I owe you an apology for my wife’s behavior. She was wrong and after I heard the truth about what happened with William I owe you a thanks as well for protecting my daughter.” 

The corner of Hal’s mouth turned upwards as he replied, “You don’t have to thank me for that sir, I would take a bullet for Y/N if it meant she’d be safe.” 

“I can see that. You’re a good man Mr. Carter, a hard working man that reminds me of the person I was a long time ago.” Her father shares a look with Y/N, nodding his head ever so slightly. “And I see the way you love my daughter, that makes you good enough in my eyes.” 

Her father extends his hand towards Hal who is hesitant at first to shake it, waiting for the other shoe to drop but the sincerity in the eyes of the man before him sets his mind at ease. The two men shake and soon enough Y/N is back in Hal’s arms.

The weight is lifted from their shoulders knowing they have her father’s support, not only in Hal’s defense but in their relationship. Hiding is in the past and Hal couldn’t be happier. The truth is no matter what he told Y/N before Hal knew he wouldn’t have been strong enough to let her go.

As Hal held Y/N in his arms he vowed to never again feel ashamed about material things he didn’t have because Hal was rich where it counted, in his heart.

[breezespirit]

Mapleshade's Forgiveness Chapter two: Strange feelings

Mapleshade woke up in the small abandoned fox den, her kits lay beside her belly sleeping. She smiled, happy that her kits were safe. All night she had been riddled with the images of her kits drowning and Appledusk betraying her. She hissed something under her breath before getting to her paws and licking her kits awake. She would go and tell Appledusk what happened in the clan, hopefully they could get across easily today. As she took a step forward, a shadow covered the entrance of the den and Mapleshade froze, her heart pounded as she stared at the entrance, her large tail covering her three kits. Her ears flattened against her head and she unsheathed her claws, ready to protect her kits from anything or anyone. Suddenly a familiar face poked itself in and Mapleshade relaxed, sheathing her claws and her ears perking up.

"Hello Frecklewish" Mapleshade said, her voice calm, though she still didn't fully trust the she-cat. 

Frecklewish, however, seemed happy as if the reason why Mapleshade was here in the first place wasn't that her own clanmates hadn't exiled her and her kits. 

"Good morning! I hope you slept well" she purred, placing a fat robin down by the queen. "I brought prey, sorry if I'm a bit late… the patrol lasted so long and I couldn't get away with Oakstar freaking out..." the freckled molly looked away, her amber eyes not meeting Mapleshade's. 

"Thank you" Mapleshade said simply, slightly confused why the molly apologized until she noticed it was sun high. She folded her ears, a bit embarrassed about sleeping in even if she was a nursing queen, she couldn't remember the last time she had slept in.

The tortoise shell molly shook her head to clear her thoughts and started to eat the robin. Her kits were now awake and playing with feathers, even Patchkit seemed to be having fun. 'Well… even if Appledusk doesn't care about me… at least I have them…' the queen thought, finishing the bird and licking her muzzle.

 "What do you have planned today?" Frecklewish asked, causing Mapleshade to jump slighty since she was distracted. 

"I don't know... what can I do? Thunderclan hates me and the gathering will be in a few days. Oakstar will tell all the clans what happened to me..." she hissed, looking at her paws. She didn't want to tell Frecklewish about her plans of going to see him today, in part that the she-cat seemed to hate Appledusk for killing her brother and a Thunderclan apprentice. 

"You could show the kits the territory... " Frecklewish suggested.

"Oh yes and while I'm at it, how about I get my kits killed by a Thunderclan patrol" Mapleshade spat, lashing her tail.

"I- I was just saying ideas…" the spotted molly looked away, her ears folded.

"Well, next time you shouldn't say something so mouse brained" Mapleshade hissed, not caring if she upset the warrior. She looked away, watching her kits again.

Patchkit now had the feather, the smaller tom batted it around with a paw while Larchkit tried to get the red feather. Petalkit had fallen asleep again, her fur still a little wet from last night. Mapleshade's expression softened, she hadn't seen her daughter not join in with her brothers play time. She turned to Frecklewish.

"Can you keep us safe?" Mapleshade asked, her amber eyes narrowed.

"W-what?" Frecklewish blinked, surprised and Mapleshade cursed under her breath before calming down and looking at her.

"If we go out, can you keep us safe from Thunderclan?" Mapleshade asked again, hoping this time she wouldn't have to repeat herself. 

"O-oh yes- yes! I can!" The freckled she-cat smiled and Mapleshade could hear a soft purring sound from the warrior.

Mapleshade rolled her eyes, hoping she wouldn't regret this decision. 

It was sundown before they found their way back to the fox den. Mapleshade felt as if her shoulders were on fire. Frecklewish hadn't been too annoying today, she had helped her a lot with the kits and they even hunted together as if Mapleshade was part of the clan. Mapleshade helped her kits into the moss nest and then turned to look at the warrior.

"Well… I should probably head back to camp..." Frecklewish said in a soft voice, her eyes were looking away from the queen.

"Right… wouldn't want Oakstar to be worried about you" the Tortoise shell molly bit her tongue softly to hold back a hiss at the mention of her former leader.

Frecklewish nodded and turned to leave. Mapleshade flicked her tail and turned to go into her den when something inside her made her turn around. "Hey uh… thank you Frecklewish… it's kinda nice having you around… I guess" the molly wouldn't meet Frecklewish's eyes as the warrior turned around with a shocked expression on her face. Mapleshade could feel her face heat up from embarrassment. 'Am I that cruel in her eyes? A simple thank you and compliment is a shock…'

"It… it's nice having you around too Mapleshade… I wish I stood up for you… I'm sorry about that..." Frecklewish looked away and then smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well Mapleshade" she purred and turned, disappearing into the bushes.

'W-was I just nice to one of the cats who drove me and my family out of my home and clawed me in the face?… am I going soft?' Mapleshade thought, staring at the bushes where the warrior had disappeared. Mapleshade shook her head and padded into the den, laying in the nest and curling her tail around her sleeping kits. 'No… I'm just being nice so she'll still help me that's all… right?' The queen stared at the entrance, a part of her hoping the warrior would come back. Mapleshade hissed softly at those stupid feelings and laid her head on her paws, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

[hale-13]

Violation of Order

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 14 - Hair Grabbing

Peter settled earlier than anyone else he knew and he could only attribute it to one person. Since then, he and Zara had a hard time being more than a few feet away from each other - he needed her close to protect her from ever going through that again.

Words: 2151, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Tony Stark

TW: Non-Consensual Touching, Implied Sexual Assault, Panic Attacks

Daemon AU

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Contrary to what popular scientific and psychological research would imply, Peter settled early.

Zara had always enjoyed shifting, bouncing between fifteen to twenty forms a day to whatever suited her fancy in the moment and taking great pleasure in trying every fantastical creature she and Peter could dream up. Peter was always one of the smallest of his peers so she liked to be big and intimidating compared to those around him.

Well, until his parents died.

After that Zara tended to prefer small and agile creatures, animals that could hide in Peter’s pockets or the hood of his jacket – where they could get skin to skin contact. Snakes that could coil around his arms, birds that could nest in his ratty hair, ferrets that could curl up around his neck and tickle his chin. Peter didn’t mind the extra comfort, he and Zara were always extremely close but they couldn’t stand to be more than a few feet from each other after he came to live with May and Ben.

Skip’s daemon had been a wolf – an odd sight in New York – and had held Zara tight in her jaws to get Peter to comply.

Zara had screamed and cried and shifted and clawed at the other daemon to get away resulting in Skip gripping her tightly in one fist and tossing her into the wall. Peter and Zara had screamed in unison at the unwelcome touch and had been stunned enough for Skip to get what he wanted.

When Zara settled into an opossum later that night they had cried together for their lost childhoods. For growing up too quickly. For knowing that it was probably going to happen again and feeling helpless to stop it. Sen and Lotte, May and Ben’s daemons had cuddled and groomed Zara the next day, trying to offer what comfort they could while May and Ben tried to get through to Peter. It wasn’t until months later that Zara finally spoke up on Peter’s behalf to save them.

Peter’s been through a lot in his life but the only thing that came close to have his soul manhandled was the Bite and Ben’s subsequent death.

At the single Easter Mass May had taken him too in his early years living with his aunt and uncle, the priest had described death as beautiful – the entry into the next life. The dust from the deceased’s daemon a shower of blessings on the ones they loved. The dust from Lotte, a beautiful yellow lab, was the least beautiful thing Peter had ever seen as it mixed with the blood coating the ground and settled into his and Zara’s hair. The sight of it washing off and down the drain later was even worse.

Peter’s main goal as Spider-Man became protecting others from having to experience something similar.

“Peter!” Ned said, pulling Peter out of his wandering and back into the present. His macaw daemon, Veerle, was flaring her scarlet plumage and adjusting her wings to balance better on his best friend’s shoulder and trying to peer into Peter’s hood where Zara had been snoozing through the last of his classes. “Did you hear anything I said?”

“Uh… yeah of course!” Peter cringed at the obvious lie in his voice and glared at Veerle who snickered at him. Ned just rolled his eyes.

“I was saying we should meet up tomorrow afternoon to get a head start on that project from Harrington. I can’t take the stress of procrastinating again,” Ned told him dramatically, elbowing him lightly in the side as they exited the doors to Midtown and started walking in the direction of Ned’s house.

“It’s not due for a month,” Peter pointed out, shivering as Zara shifted in his hood, wrapping her tail around his neck and propping her head up to rest on his shoulder with a yawn.

“That’s what you said last time,” she pointed out and Peter flicked her on the nose with a scoff of betrayal, ignoring his friend’s laughing. “Hey!”

“Whose side are you on here huh?” He asked in mock anger before breaking out in a smile. It had been a while since he and Ned had had the opportunity to hang out as just the four of them – too long in fact. Peter was excited for the weekend that they had planned; a pizza and movie marathon of some classic Sci-if and now, assumingely, some homework. Whatever, they were still going to have a great time. All Peter needed to do was a quick evening patrol and he was done for the weekend.

“Ned,” Zara answered, rubbing her nose dramatically with a paw. Peter rolled his eyes at her as he started scoping for a good alley to change in that was close to Ned’s house, spotting a good one not too far ahead.

“I shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours and then I can get started on my part,” Peter promised Ned as he made his way to the alley. “I promise this time.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Ned said with an eye roll, his face a little pinched but still indulgent. “Try not to get stabbed this time.”

“No promises,” Peter muttered as they parted. Not that he would tell Ned if he did get injured anyway; he kept a pretty decent first aid kit with him at all times and he felt pretty confident that he could hide any injury from his friend until it completely healed. The alley he ducked into was empty except for the couple beaten dumpsters that Peter hid behind to change into his suit, offering his open back for Zara to climb into. Patrolling with her wasn’t always the easiest but they had settled into a rhythm for the most part.

Firing a web, Peter took off into Queens, hoping for a relaxing afternoon.

————————————————

It was nearing eleven when Ned sent his obligatory ‘I told you so’ text complete with eye roll emoji that Peter left on read just for the principal of the thing. It had been a busy Friday evening and had only just started to slow down enough for Peter and Zara to take a breather – he was thankful May was working tonight so he wouldn’t get caught inevitably breaking his curfew.

“I think we’re done,” Zara told him with a yawn, her head poked out the top of his book bag and looking over his shoulder as Peter leisurely swung from web to web heading, vaguely, toward home.

He hummed. “One more quick scan,” he compromised and Zara grumbled a little but didn’t protest when he said “Got anything for me K?”

“Sure thing Peter,” Karen’s chirpy voice replied. “An emergency call was just placed two blocks away for a possible mugging in progress.”

“Throw it up on the screen for me,” Peter said, hopping off the roof he was perched on and swinging toward the blinking red dot on his HUD as quickly as he could. Zara sighed from his backpack and kept her head poked out to observe. Muggings weren’t (normally) that big of a deal so she didn’t really hide in the bag as much for those – unless it started to get really hairy.

“That’s all I have! I promise I don’t have anything else!” A man’s voice yelled, the timbre trembling and terrified as Peter swung onto the scene. The victim couldn’t have been much older than Peter and he and his robin daemon were pressed as tightly to the dirty brick wall as they could get, trying to stay away from the mugger brandishing a knife and his corgi daemon – growling and snarling between his legs.

“Lovely evening right gentlemen?” Peter quipped as he dropped to the ground in a crouch a few feet away. “Perfect time to get into a little larceny am I right?”

“This doesn’t involve you Spider-Man,” the mugger said, turning to face Peter instead, his daemon showing her teeth. Zara, head still poked out of his backpack, hissed loudly in return and scuttled up to sit on Peter’s shoulder, anchoring herself with her tail around his neck and digging her sharp little claws into his suit.

“You know,” Peter told him conversationally, standing and trying to telepathically communicate to the victim to make his escape out the other end of the alley. “That’s what they all say but I just can’t seem to mind my own business,” he shrugged as if to say ‘oh well’ and took a step closer. The victim had started edging out of the alley so Peter needed to keep up with the distraction until he was safe. “Now how’s about you put the knife away and I’ll web you to the wall and we all leave here friends?”

The mugger scoffed and turned to look at his victim with a ‘can you believe this guy’ expression on his face before it darkened at the sight of his escaping prey.”Hey!” He yelled, turning fully and reaching out to grab the man – knife raising threateningly. Peter, in an act of desperation, jumped in between them causing the man to grab onto Zara by the scruff of the neck instead.

Peter nearly dropped to the ground under the pain of feeling someone grabbing onto his bare soul and Zara screamed and hissed in the man’s grip, finally biting him on the wrist so he dropped her to the ground, some of her course hair still stuck to his palm and flaking off in pieces. Looking horrified and sick himself, the man took off with his corgi daemon whimpering at his heels leaving Peter alone.

Peter let out a sob, his skin still crawling, and curled up into a tight ball. The last time anyone had touched Zara had been Skip when he had… when he…

“Your heart rate has reached unacceptable levels,” Karen’s clear voice cut through. “Mr. Stark is on his way.”

Peter gasped in response (he couldn’t breathe, why couldn’t he breathe?) and reached out blindly for where Zara was curled up and trembling a few feet away, scooping her into his chest and pressing his masked face into the fur of her side.

“Peter Mr. Stark is three minutes out but you need to control your breathing,” Karen told him gently. “Please follow the prompts on the screen – in for four, hold seven, out eight.”

Peter couldn’t even breathe in for one second let alone four but he tried to follow Karen’s directions – having Zara back in his arms where he could run his fingers through her hair and try to get rid of the unwanted touch that he could still feel phantom echos of helped some but not enough. By the time Tony landed with Silon in his arms a few minutes later Peter hadn’t really managed to improve his mental state by much.

“Oh Pete,” Tony said sadly, stepping out of the suit and kneeling down in front of Peter. “I’m so sorry kiddo.” Peter just let out a loud sob in response but didn’t protest Tony pulling his mask carefully over his head and running calloused fingers through his hair. Silon, Tony’s large serval daemon, cautiously curled over Peter to begin nuzzling Zara, his purr sounding comforting but sad.

“He touched her,” Peter forced out, nearly gagging as he said it, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks for Tony to rub away with his thumbs. “He grabbed her.”

“I know buddy, I saw,” Tony confirmed, levering Peter up to sit cross-legged with his back to the wall and Zara coiled in his lap. “I know there’s nothing I can say that will help but I’ve got Happy on the way. We’re going back to the Tower and we’re going to watch Star Wars and you’re going to cuddle with her okay? It’ll help.”

Peter nodded erratically, gripping Zara tighter for a moment and then releasing her when she reached out one of her paws to Silon. He let her climb onto his back and grip onto him with all four limbs and tail, craning his neck back to groom her gently. “The last person to touch her was… it was… I didn’t want…”

“I know Petey,” Tony told him as he pulled him in for a firm hug that Peter was quick to reciprocate, clinging onto his mentor just as tightly as Zara was to Silon. “I know buddy, just let it out.”

There were some things that Tony Stark could fix – Peter could trust him to try to fix just about any problem he was presented with – but Peter knew that this would be one of those things that would be cracked inside of him forever. Something that no one besides Peter and Zara could work on and something that would always haunt them. But, sitting there with his mentor in one of the dirty alleys of Queens, Peter thought he could feel it mending.

[and-the-world-is-quiet-here]

Of stormy nights and sorrows

The night was dark and stormy. Of course all nights in Gotham were dark and stormy, but this one seemed to be particularly vengeful, pummeling the ground with strong whips of water, and throwing saplings like ragdolls. Causing chaos in homeless shelters as vagabonds scrambled for a place with walls and windows. The rain was so great that it had caused all the usual suspects to run for shelter, emptying the streets faster than black bats glare ever could - Cass was just a little jealous. But no crime meant no vigilantes, and dad would never put his kids out in a hurricane just to save some cats in trees. 

“But father, you can’t be serious! Rain should be no match for a warrior of my caliber!” Cass didn’t understand the words but she could feel the insult behind them. 

Jason started in too, desperate to get out of the manor “Yeah b we’ll be fine! You can’t keep us here anyway! I am a grown ass adult” 

Dad grunted, his standard response for any kind of disobedience. 

Turning his back to the 11 owlish eyes boring holes into his head, he went back to sorting the batarangs tutting as he did. 

Then there was silence, it was long and she didn’t like it. Too long, too quiet for too long, something bad was going to happen, she could tell. She shifted uneasily on her perch, preparing to move at the first sign of trouble. She did want another argument there had been to many already. 

It was oppressive. 

Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. And oh! Steph finally broke, she had been expecting it (steph may as well have been screaming her intention) but the loud noise still startled her 

“Oh my god Bruce! Will you speak in sentences for once in your goddamn life!” 

Bruce-dad tensed unnoticeably and she watched him with a closer eye from her nest on the banister. He prepared himself as if to give a speech, but only managed to spit out “Its cold, and nobodys out there anyway. The last thing we need is one of you getting sick.” 

Silence, silence that stretched out miserably and then…. “I’m gonna go play among us, anyone want to join?” 

“Oh my god Duke read the room”  

“Oh shut up duke some of us are actually are actually used to not spending the night scaring the crap out of our neighbors and work 9-5 like a normal person” 

Huh she thought neighbor…neghibor…“Ne-i-gh-b-or” she mouthed the word, (And what a word), neighbor she concluded must mean criminal.

 In her distraction her siblings had disappeared and she shifted uneasily. She had let her walls down too far, and lost track of her family. That would need to be amended. 

Now, the two loneliest residents were left to brood in silence--plus one of course, when those two were alone it was always with a hidden plus one. 

Dad still leaned over the table, gripping it with both hands like his life depended on it. 

He was worried, that much was obvious to anyone, It was all over  his face. 

But Cass knew better than to take it at face value, she examined other parts too. Everyone relied on faces too much she thought, when they really didn’t tell you that much. It was better to look at muscle; muscle, skin, and bone, they tell you the whole story. 

He was worried, but it was more than that. He was….scared, his whole body screamed “PROTECT!” as if he had tooo…he had tooo… oh what was it he had to .. yes! He had to shield them! He had to shield them, his body yelled “PROTECT!” He stood like he was the last person between evil and family. 

What a silly thought! He didn’t need to worry, she would always stand between evil and family. 

“tt” 

Dad sighed, “Father while I understand your decision to preserve the health of your soldiers, it should go without being said that I will be joining you tonight” 

Dad’s nostrils flared, his arms tensed, and his feet shifted into a wider stance - a fighting stance. 

Oh no, bad, bad, bad, bad. Dad…no…Batman slammed the batarang on the table, and turned to Damian, 

“And why? Why is that Damian? Why do you constantly have to put yourself into danger just to prove your worth? You are not a soldier! You have never been a soldier! Your siblings are not soldiers!" Batman took a step forward pointing his finger towards Damian. 

“YOU are an angry CHILD and if I was anyone else, you would be in bed by now. But I don’t make you. I LET you be robin, because I thought it would be good for you, But maybe I shouldn’t have” 

Dad sighed and turned back to the table. The tension left his shoulders, and he slumped. He was more “SAD!” then angry, he was hurt and the “PROTECT!” crumbled into "Regret!", Cass looked the other way. 

Dad was calming down but Damian was just getting started, he let out an angry shriek. 

Flashes of a memory danced across his face, dimming his eyes,, setting his mouth, and furrowing his brow until he was a mirror of Dad,but one filled by “SAD!“ not “PROTECT!” “You underestimate me father, I am the heir to the dragon. I have already received more training then Brown ever will! I wield a sword better than Thomas can! Yet you insist on keeping these deadweights around despite their worthlessness!” 

 She inched closer, bad, this was bad, it was bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, ba-“SLAM!” 

Dad dropped the Batarang and whirled around, murder in his eyes. 

“No, no, you don’t get to speak about your siblings that way! You are not better than them! NO ONE is better than them! Stephanie could lift you over her head like you were nothing! Duke saves dozens of people everyday, no, you don’t get to speak about them that way. They earned their place here!” 

Damian was scared now. He curled in on himself, radiating sadness. 

“Get out!” Dad grit out in the silence 

“GET OUT NOW!” 

then the sound of fleeting footstep and a depressed sigh. 

She came out of the shadows, she had hid long enough. She let her feet touch the ground just long enough to let it be known that she was there and left, leaving a whisper of a touch on the shoulders of her father, and a simple string of signs pressed into her fathers back 

“Not mad at little brother, mad at the people who made him that way.” A sorrow comfort but a comfort nonetheless.

She bade her time and lied in wait, it would be no use to comfort him now when he was still upset. So instead she made use of her freedom, wandering the halls in search of her siblings, changing day clothes into pajamas, tinkering and going through her positions. 

When at last she deemed it time, she made her way over to the vent. It lifted easily off the wall, the screws that held it there having long since been removed. Even easier though, was climbing into it, the vents were from the original part of the manor-meaning they were huge and someone as small as Cass had no trouble fitting in them. What was a struggle though, was stealth, she found after many tries that walking on the palms of her hands worked best. So that was how Cass moved, arriving steadily in a vertical shaft that required only 2 quick bounds to clear. 

She landed elegantly as all ways, and nearly looked to Cain for approval before she remembered that she was not there, that she was safe. Well, as safe as you can be perched precariously on a loose rafter in a 300 year old attic. 

Quietly, she padded along and picked up the sniveling mess that was Damian and made her way back to sanctuary. He would sleep through it, she had made sure of it, a journey through the vents would be bumpy and she was sure he would not want to be seen in the hallway like this. 

Cass dumped him in the middle of her rug and returned back to her tinkering waiting for him to awaken. 

It took twenty minutes for him to stir, and in the meantime she was treated to the sounds of war and horror sprouting from the mouth of a child. 

When he finally did wake up, he was angry. “Where the hell am I Cain?” 

He looked around bewilderedly before considering her; she knew he was afraid of her. She was the only fighter he had ever been taught to respect “the one who was all” A myth, a monster, a begrudged ally, but not a sister, never a sister. This was yet another thing she had to fix.<br />

She becond him forward with her hand, keeping her eyes carefully on her working hands. He approached cautiously and sat

“Cain” 

“little brother”

“I am not your brother" 

“and I am not a Cain” it was a stalemate neither would relent so she switched topics 

“Come help” 

“And why would I? I owe you nothing.” she paused 

“Because you are tired, but you will fight sleep. Come little brother, help”

 “tt fine” 

He scooted closer, sitting barley a foot away from her now. For the first time, he looked at the diorama, and she, him. The display was sprawling, an exact replica of Wayne manor and its grounds, scaled down to size. It was placed on a low custom fit dining table, one barley the height of a Japanese tea table (similar to one Cass could remember from her childhood). The house wasn’t finished of course, that would be no fun if it was finished; and while some would say it was “good enough” (like Babs when she wanted Cass to spend her time reading or writing) she would not compromise, it had to be perfect. 

“What would you like to build little brother” Damian paused and she saw fear flash across his face. Ahh so decisions scared him, she could work with that 

“How about we do the menagerie”  

“why?” 

“Its not done and you know it best” Damian scrunched his brown frustrated at not being understood 

“No why come and get me? Why build this? And if you care for it so much why let me help you?” 

She turned to him, in her stupor she had neglected to look at him and she cursed herself for it. She stumbled, she had to do something, but she was lost at what to do, he needed words, she had none of those. He needed signs, she had many but it felt like not enough. So instead she settled for a hug and found she herself satisfied with it 

“I love my little brother even if he does not love me, I am hurt and he is hurting so we will hurt together.” She paused and took a steadying silent breath, closing her eyes, and retreating back into herself. 

“I came here, and the world was big and loud. Too much too quickly. I was expected to talk to understand the way they communicate. Their language. But no one tried to understand mine. I know bodies not words. You came here and you knew words, but you did not know bodies. No one acknowledged that. You struggle, you have no Babs, so I will be your Babs.” 

They were crying now. His body was racked with sobs, and he was taking deep shuddering breaths, giving in he fell into another hug, crying loudly into her shoulder. 

He cried for his mother, he cried for the sister and cousin he lost, he cried for the pain he caused his new family, the hatred they felt towards him, and the pain he felt, most of all he cried for the world he had lost and his place in it. 

When he finally stopped, he was empty, a husk of the great Al Ghul heir remained, sniveling in the arms of a bastard child. He had been fractured, chipped away at every day, until even the pieces he held most dear fell away leaving a sad small child. 

Finally she broke the silence holding his face in between his hands “When my world was too big, I made it small, and that way my monsters seemed smaller. They all have ways of dealing with their monsters, they lock them in caves and they lock them in their hearts. It doesn’t work. Don’t do it. Little brother, we must instead find a way to make your world small”

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Alternate universe where Kal-El’s baby pod comes down behind Wayne Manor. (ao3)

chapter 1 chapter 2  chapter 3 chapter 4

Wayne family problems always happen at 2AM.

Zatanna gets the call on her cell in Athens and it takes her a full minute to register the buzzing before she rolls over and paws her phone from the nightstand. Scraping her hair form her face, she squints at the name on the phone. Private line, proxy number. She checks the time and figures there’s still only one person who would call at 2AM her time.

“Bruce? Is that you?”

“He went public.”

She hangs up.

Thirty seconds later she drops onto Bruce Wayne’s kitchen island in Gotham, bare feet slapping the two-hundred grand black-marble countertop. Her hair crackles, a writhing nest of post-teleportation static and half-grounded etherium. Her eyes, she knows, have the fairy-light glow of a woman riding wild and uncontrollable forces dimension to dimension. Point of fact, that kind of chaos suits her and the static roar in her blood just now. Chaos suits her fine. She understands the appeal of it, standing there, lit up from the inside. Panic in her teeth.

Bruce looks at the tangled sorceress crouching half-dressed on his kitchen counter, he just says, calmly, “Do you need a bathrobe?”

She’s in shorts and a crop top. She hops off the counter, ignoring him. “Where’s Kal?”

“Metropolis.” He unmutes two mid-sized televisions mounted on the wall by the sink and another by the bar. One is Metropolis Daily, the other CNN. The scroll bar reads: super-human hero saves hundreds. “Suspension bridge collapse. He’s currently holding the bridge in place while everyone evacuates. He’s been there for three hours now. Every news network on the globe is re-casting the live coverage.”

“Metropolis. So he didn’t go far.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Bruce has his laptop open on the counter and pulls up a dozen news articles in various languages, no photos except of what appear to be blurry phone camera stills. “This is the first time he’s slowed down enough to be caught on film, but based on his speed and eye-witness accounts, they’re linking him to series of similar interventions all over the world. Disaster interventions mostly. I think he’s been operating internationally until now. He’s doing exactly what I told him not to do.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So far? His face is all over global news.”

“My god. He’s not a wearing a mask?”

“No. As far as I can tell, he’s wearing some kind of uniform based on his family colors and house crest.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Bruce says nothing. So she looks at the footage.

“Holy shit, you’re not kidding. He’s wearing primary colors. Why does he have a cape? Why is it bright red? What the fuck?”

“Either habit or tactics. If the material is bulletproof like the material from his Robin uniform, then he might be using it to protect civilians.”

“How is he funding this? Did he access his trust?”

“No. He hasn’t accepted anything from me since…” He glances at her. “Since he left. I assume he’s found employment.”

“But not as Clark Wayne.”

“Not that I’ve found. But he knows how to forge documents as well as Alfred does. If he wants to, he can be anyone.”

“Where is he now?”

“Still under the Grandcross Bridge. Rescue and construction personnel are approaching now, but as far as I can tell he’s having no trouble holding position.”

“How is he holding the whole bridge? I don’t doubt he’s strong enough, but he’s too small to just –”

“The five of the suspension cables along the right side of the bridge seem to have snapped. The bridge was going lopsided, cars sliding into the river. He’s just leveling it out. You’re right though. It’s collapsing. He’s a single load-bearing point where there were five. The civil engineers are trying to get close enough to talk to him, I believe.”

“No lives are in danger?”

“No. But…”

“Breaking news,” says the television. “We’re cutting to a live feed from the crisis at the Metropolis Grandcross Bridge. Fire and rescue personnel have deployed a rescue drone to open communication with the meta-human currently holding up the remains of the now highly unstable Grandcross suspension bridge. Live momentarily.”

Alfred, from the kitchen door where he’s just arrived, says, “Bloody hell.”

On the television screen a slightly wobbling drone camera cuts a path toward the belly of the suspension bridge. In the feed, you can hear the whine of the little turbine motors as it zips through the dust toward a blue and red figure braced like Atlas beneath the bridge. The drone flits uncertainly for a moment, buffeted by wind and for a moment captures a turbulent image of Kal Wayne – changed remarkably in just two years, but also not, not at all changed, but different nonetheless – looking slightly to the left and blinking at the little drone.

He follows it with his eyes as the camera swings in a way to frame his face, zooming in. his eyes in the camera are… frighteningly blue, alien blue, almost colorless and iridescent. Zatana’s never seen him do that with his eyes and in that moment, staring into the camera, expression curious and faintly distracted, she thinks the world’s going to change. This is the face of things to come. Something shivers through her, an old primal kind of shudder, deeper than physical… archetypical and ancient. Like every ley line in the world just hummed.

On TV, a loud speaker crackles, barely loud enough to hear over the drone’s motor.

“This is Kathy Motomori of Metropolis Fire and Rescue.” Live captions scroll across the bottom of the screen. Kal shifts his shoulders slightly against the concrete above him, his palms spread flat against the stone. “Are you in danger, sir?”

He blinks. “Oh! No. I’m fine.” A pause. “Thanks!”

“Jesus,” says Zatana.

Bruce has one hand on the counter next to him and it becomes a fist instead. On screen Kal shakes dust from his hair and says, loudly, “Everyone is clear of the bridge now right? Do you need me to keep holding it up or should I let it go?”

There’s a momentary pause from the other side. “My engineers are saying the bridge won’t last even with your help. It’s going to come apart on top of you. We’re recommending you try to get clear. Can you do that without our aid? Do you need assistance? My people are willing to come in.”

“No, no! Don’t send anyone!” He shakes his head slightly and a single dark curl of hair gets free from his bangs, coiling against his brow. Zatana doesn’t know it right then, but that’s the image that’s going to go around the world. “I’m okay. I can get clear on my own.”

“Then good luck, son. Get out of there safe. Understood?”

“Understood, ma’am.”

The drone wobbles and withdraws, pulling back but continuing to zoom in on Kal as he glances up at the massive shelf of stone he’s bracing… then rolls up so he’s bracing his hands and feet against it, creating the optical illusion of being stuck to the bottom of the bridge, his cape flapping gently beneath him. Then, lightly, he pushes off and floats free beneath. The bridge holds, but in the feed the crack and groan of steel instantly fills the audio. The camera pulls back, zooming away as the bridge buckles and falls. Kal watches it for a moment. Then he notices the camera now watching him and looks, momentarily, flummoxed about the attention.

He decides on a kind of half-wave, half-salute kind of thing. Then he turns in midair and throws one arm forward as if into some kind of forward stoke and arcs with that familiar thoughtless momentum into the free air over the Metropolis River. Then the sound barrier breaks in the distance. The camera screen beholds nothing but empty sky.

“Welp,” says Zatana.

“Goodness,” says Alfred.

“…” says Bruce.

From the door, just behind Alfred, Dick Grayson – still in his pajamas, frazzled with bedhead, all of fifteen, dark-haired and thrilled – says, “Cool.”

 “The President official gave Superman the Medal of Freedom today for his actions during Hurricane Roger.”

Bruce says nothing.

“He’s ducking my tracer spells by the way.” Zatana takes a seat on the desk, moving Bruce’s files aside to make room. “I’ve tapped a few sources in the magical communities and a handful of them say they’re passingly familiar with someone matching Kal’s description but no one linked him to any of the traceable Superman events. Lois Lane did a pretty bang up job with the international angle. They’re saying Superman’s saved the lives of about five-hundred people and counting just this last year and that’s the incidents people have come forward with.”

Bruce says nothing.

“Bruce, I’m sure he’ll come back at some point and not for nothing, he is bulletproof and mostly magic proof.”

Bruce says, “Kal is an adult now. He can do as he likes.”

Zatana says, “Obviously, but he’s still your little brother. You’re allowed to worry.”

“His approach is reckless and dangerous and literally everything I warned him not to do.”

“He’s insanely popular, well-loved by everyone, and he hasn’t told a soul that he’s an alien. He just keeps insisting he’s nice city boy who want to help. A nice American city boy by golly-gee raised right here wherever here is I won’t commit but hell I’m sure just like you, boss. He’s really good at that. His blandish is excellent. Lookit me, folks, I’m just so adorable blue-eyed relatable and cute. I saved a puppy today. I played baseball with a bunch of kids in Bangladesh. There’s a hundred blogs dedicated to how cute my butt is in my weird uniform that is definitely armor, but no one is talking about it.”

“Just because he’s good at getting people to like him, doesn’t mean he’s safe.”

“Obviously not, but he’s doing the absolute best that he can with the option that he’s taken. He’s popular Bruce. You can get away with murder if you’re popular and there’s precedent for it. You have that Flash guy in Star City. That Green Arrow person. You… kind of… you’re pretty popular in Gotham for a dude everyone thinks is demonic sewer monster.”

“It’s Gotham,” says Bruce, like that explains it.

Zatana picks up her tea and sips.

“Look, Gotham loves two things: Its football team and Batman. Therefore, Batman gets away with a lot. Keeping that mind, Metropolis loves two things –”

“Being owned by a libertarian asshole and over-priced sushi?”

“No, Bruce – is that thing? Stop distracting me! They love being progressive and they love Superman. Okay? If Metropolis likes Superman than a good portion of the country follows. Daily Planet says they like him, then most of the internet says they like him. Metropolis may be owned by a libertarian douchebag, but even Lex Luthor knows to pretend to be progressive and likeable. His blandish is right up there with Kal’s.”

“Yes, there’s a comfort. Lex fucking Luthor talking to Kal-El.”

“Right, because Superman totally didn’t graffiti his pent-house office window last week with vague implications that Lex is a capitalist monster.”

Bruce smiles. Like, not with his mouth, but it’s there. Zatana can see it.

“See, and the beauty of it is Lex can try to take legal action but he won’t because it’s political suicide. Kal know what he’s doing. He’s smart and capable and has an IQ over one-forty and an interest in communications. He’s Metropolis’ favorite son right now. He’s America’s favorite son. You know how I can tell he’s going to be the biggest thing since sliced bread? He’s just a little bit brown and he openly spoke fluent Cantonese in front of cameras and people aren’t trying to nuke him out of the sky. That’s how I know he’s reached the adoration nadir necessary to survive the public. Okay?”

“You can stop trying to comfort me, Zatana. I know you have better things to do.”

“Better things to do than hang out in your mansion and eat your fancy toast?”

“How can toast be fancy?”

“I dunno, man, but you do it.”

“I’ve accepted that Kal is going to do as he likes. I don’t have to like it, but it’s how it is.”

“It’s been nearly a year since he came out as Superman.” Zatana taps a nail meaningfully against the side of her mug. “You could try to get in contact with him you know.”

Bruce says, “I figure he’ll do that himself.”

Zatana says, “Ugh. You’re both children.”

And Dick, who’s been hiding in the rafters in the dining room says, “So am I gonna get to meet him finally or what?”

“Get down from there. What did I tell you about –!”

 Six months later a giant albino mohawked dude on a space-faring motorcycle shows up in Metropolis.

Then he beats Superman within an inch of his new superheroing life.

Jimmy Olsen, armed with a smart phone camera and more balls than his resume would grant him, captures most of the carnage on a Facebook livesteam where the hulking alien tries to tear Metropolis’ golden boy limb from limb. In later interviews, Jimmy would admit that he and Superman have a rapport and most of why he stayed was simply because he couldn’t bring himself to leave while Big Blue was fighting for his life. Something, he was certain, Superman had never had to do before.

The world gets a first-hand look at intelligent non-terrestrial lifeforms as one tries to curb stop Superman’s skull open in the middle of Broadway Avenue. Then it gets to watch as said lifeform hurls him into the ground with enough force to break the sound barrier. They watch intelligent alien life rip Kal’s cape from his shoulders, watch it kick him in the ribs, try to strangle him, gouge his invincible blue eyes out and get their thumbs lasered off for their efforts. (Oh, yes, Superman has laser eyes. No one knew that. Now everyone knows that.)

Then the whole world gets to watch Superman do something like panic and beat this monster into a crater with the wreackage of its own motorcycle. Then they get to watch him grab and hurl this alien out of the stratosphere with enough power to splinter the ground beneath him like plaster and send the beast rocketing out of Earth’s atmo. Jimmy Olsen’s smart phone camera captures the moment of aftermath where Superman stands there, uniform torn, blood running from his nose and mouth, staring anxiously into the sky and breathing hard, breathing like his ribs are fractured. Jimmy Olsen’s smart phone camera transmits, live, the moment where Superman collapses to one knee, then collapses entirely and –

Jimmy Olsen, dropping his camera, crying, “Oh my god! Supes?! Superman, are you –?”

Before the feed cuts.

  “Look, I’m just saying he’s not that mad at you.”

Dick Grayson, eighteen, wearing a pair of sunglasses with his boots up on the spare chair next to him – he’s got an ice cream cone in one hand and he thinks the whole thing is kind of dumb.

Across from him: Superman in a blue button-up and jeans, blinking at him from behind a pair of un-convincing thick-rimmed glasses. He’s got an untouched basket of fires and a burger in front of him. It pleases Dick just a little bit to note that at eighteen he’s already about Kal-El’s height if not quiet his build. Not, mind you, that Superman has many options in body building and it’s sort of ridiculous to compare physiques when one of them (not him) can pick up a bus and throw it across the country.

The point: Kal doesn’t look very intimidating sitting in a burger joint with an anxious look on his face.

“It’s been almost three years.”

The July sun curves a scorching path into the mid-day sky. It’s pretty hot.

Dick adjusts his sunglasses and says, “Look, Kal. I get that you guys had some big falling out or whatever, but at the end of the day you’re both being huge assholes and should just talk to one another. Zatana says so. Alfred says so. I say so and I’m the guy who’s doing your old job so I feel like I have special permission to tell you to suck it up and stop being weird about it. You weren’t weird about talking to me and I expected you to be a lot weirder in person. So you have no excuse.”

Kal looks genuinely curious. “Why would you think I’d be weird in person?”

“I dunno. You’re so good in front of a camera I thought you might be a little strange when you turn off the whole All American Alien shtick. Any particular reason you try to come off like a home-grown suburbanite when you’re a Gotham kid?”

“Technically, I was raised internationally for most of my childhood, I’m an alien, and mid-western accents are practically un-detectible to anyone not looking for it?”

“Solid call. Solid call. Anyway, you’re not weird.”

Kal looks wry. “Thanks, I try. Look, Dick, I appreciate what you’re trying to say, but I’m not sure if you understand… the history with Bruce and me.”

“Says who? I’m great at understanding. I’ve also been living with Bruce for the better part of three years so, like, try me.”

“Well, first of all, I’m an alien that landed in his backyard when he was sixteen and he decided to adopt me.”

“Yes, he has impulse control problems in that area. I’ve noticed.”

“My childhood was weird.”

“I grew up in the circus and then signed on to be Boy Wonder Two Point Oh. My childhood was also weird. What is it you’re worried I won’t understand?”

“I don’t know… so much of how I was raised was based around this… It’s weird. I am bulletproof. Literally, I’m one of the toughest living things on the planet, but my whole childhood was a lot of fear and hyper-vigilant measures to make sure I was safe. Now, I’m just… it’s like a threw all that away. I feel like a bastard sometimes. Ungrateful I guess? But I don’t regret it. Not… not at all. Not even a little bit and I feel like that’s the part that’s going to make it impossible to talk about.”

“You know how stupidly noble that sounds right? You’re like an afterschool special.”

“Grayson,” he says in this tone that has this low sub-tonal quality that literally makes the air shiver.

“Okay, so you’re afraid you’ll have to defend your decisions to him and he’s going to be judgmental and disapproving, basically? Because, that’s kind of what dads are there for.”

“He’s not my dad.”

“Right.”

Kal looks uncomfortable. “He was always really clear on that point, actually.”

“Oh. Sorry. What I meant is you are family at the end of the day.”

“I know…”

“Jeez, this is really eating at you. What specifically do you think will happen? Worst scenario.”

“I tell him I regret nothing that I’ve done and by extension he takes that to mean everything he ever did for me was pointless and all the work he does is also pointless and he basically realizes he raised a totalitarian monster that rejects all his personal axioms?”

Dick lowers his sunglasses slightly to stare at him over the rims.

Kal looks, thankfully, embarrassed. “Worst case scenario! I literally did the exact thing he raised me not to do and I just don’t see how he’s going to forgive me for that.”

“Because you’re his little brother and he loves you. Wow. That was easy. Let’s go to Gotham right now.”

Kal jerks a little when Dick makes a mock-move to stand up and that tiny fear response makes Dick feel just a little bad. He sits back down.

“You honestly think he’s not going to forgive you for going out on your own?”

“He has strong opinions about things.”

“He’s also just a dude with a thing for Vantablack.”

“You wouldn’t be scared to disobey him?”

“Are you kidding? Petrified. But I’d still do it if I really believed it and, honestly, I think as long as you’re not drowning puppies in buckets or getting a mullet he’ll probably respect what you did.” Dick shrugs. “I mean, it’s hard to argue with the results.”

Kal looks skeptical.

“I’m not saying he won’t be a huge tool about it at first, maybe, but he’ll get over it. Seriously. Just… reach out. I don’t think he’s going to do it because he thinks you… want it this way or something. I can tell you don’t so just fix it. Or at least try. You’re Superman. You can’t possibly tell me it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done.”

Kal almost smiles. “I’m really glad you signed on to be Robin Two Point Oh.”

“Okay, well, don’t spread it around but I’ll probably upgrade from that pretty quick here.”

“You’re thinking about leaving?”

“I’m eighteen. I’ll have to leave eventually.”

“And… the rest of it?”

“You mean the cape and cowl?” He frowns. “I mean… I think I’ll always want to do that. Just not… not in Gotham forever. And I can’t be Robin somewhere else; I think that’s a really specific role. Look, it’s just something I’m tossing around. You left. I can leave. It’s just the normal progression of things.”

Kal thinks about it. “You picked out a name yet?”

Dick blinks behind his glasses. “No. Why?”

“I might have a suggestion.”

  It was, perhaps, inevitable that it would happen this way.

Or that’s what he’s thinking while he’s falling from 10,000 feet up, every on-board system fried, auxiliary flight components shredded, the dark terrain racing up to meet him. He goes through possible scenarios. Anything and everything he could do to prevent slamming into the planet at terminal velocity and he’s got nothing. The sky above him: a rolling orange swath of flame, the steel monolith coming apart in continental shards of alien alloy. The mechanism of mass destruction slicing a fiery path toward the ocean.

Even if he could fly, he’s not sure he could get clear of the wreckage – likely to fall miles around.

His armor’s melted in places – fused to his ribs, his right thigh, his boots have melted at the sole. The pain is… intense actually. Intense enough he’s a little relieved it’s probably going to stop very soon. The wind in his ears roars. Through the roar, his comm still just barely crackles with Dick’s voice, frantic and far away, saying his name (is that really his name?) over and over again from too far away to help.

His primary regret: Dick is going to watch him die on fucking monitor.

“It’s fine,” he says, which is fucking stupid of course.

“No!”

“You’re going to be fine, Dick.”

These are the worst last words in the history of last words. He just doesn’t know what else to say, the earth rushing up as it is, so fast he’s not going to be able to speak. Bruce rolls into a para-trooper flat, belly down, arms and legs out, facing the growing ridge of the mountain that, it appears, will be his final destination. The comm’s damaged. Dick is saying something. He can’t make it out and he’s not sure why that – not the screaming air, not the pain, not the inevitable end – is getting to him. Seconds before his death and all he can think is he’d trade anything to hear what Dick is trying to say.

There’s static now.

There’s no one with him for this part.

That’s fine.

It’s fine.

Really.

It’s…

The mountain below him suddenly snaps. It vanishes. There’s a bright primary blur that baffles his eyes before snapping back into focus and, like a glitch in the universe, Kal-El is between him and the earth. His eyes: wide, colorless blue, inhuman in their hue and containing every human fear possible. He’s moving at terminal velocity, backwards, propelled by the mysterious gravitational forces that live in his Kryptonian physiology. He’s wearing his uniform. Superman – flying exactly fast enough to be exactly within arms’ reach, face to face with Batman as he falls.

He’s shouting something.

Bruce throws his arms out at the same moment Kal grabs for him, seizes his elbows and pulls him into his chest. Bruce feels three of his ribs crack when Kal miscalculates the speed, slams into him with enough force to stun. He doesn’t have the air to scream as Kal balls around him and pitches, hard, right. His arms cage him like a roll bar in a flipping car. The G-force briefly curdles his brain, dark edges closing. His teeth in his skull seem set to explode. Lungs crushed, surrounded by a splintering construct of calcium.

Then it stops. Planes out. Bruce opens his eyes and the sky is framed by trees, the hole in the canopy of evergreens. The ground underneath him smells of pine and shredded earth, a Superman shaped crater in the forest floor. He must have blacked out for the impact. Kal is looking down at him with a panic in his face that steals all his adult years and Bruce sees him – five years old, stuck on that goddamn bunker ceiling.

“Bruce! Bruce?! Are you okay?”

He grunts. Gets his breath.

“Sloppy catch.”

Kal stares.

Bruce grimaces and sits up. “We practiced that about a hundred times in the Philippines.”

Kal stares.

“If you don’t learn how to match velocity in mid-air, you can’t expect to save civilians from –.”

Kal moves forward and hooks both arms around Bruce’s shoulders and silently buries his face against his shoulder.

Bruce hesitates… then loops one arm around Superman’s back, palm flat against his shoulder blades.

“Nice of you to drop by,” Bruce says.

Kal laughs. “Dick said I should.”

“You couldn’t call me before alien warships are flying over Gotham?”

“You couldn't call me before you pick a fight with an alien warship?”

"I don't have your number."

"Dick has my number. You have my number if you wanted my number."

Bruce sighs, pressing a hand into his ribs. “Any chance of flying out of here that isn’t you carrying me bridal style?”

 “Not really. You crashed the Bat Jet into the side of their ship.”

“It’s not called the ‘Bat Jet’. It’s just a jet.”

“Dick says it’s the Bat Jet and he also says, you still call the car ‘The Batmobile’. So…”

Bruce glares.

“Are you glaring? I can’t tell with the new cowl. Is that, like, a heavy combat version or…?”

“I’m glaring.”

“Okay. Thought so. You know you can admit I'm good at naming things.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You should have let me drop into the goddamn mountain.”

“Batmobile. Trademark: Superman.”