#danny and damian are close to throwing down and deciding with their fists | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

@damianwayneweek Day 2 (6-14): Undercover | Sibling rivalry | Damian having a nice day

Warnings: Mentions of trafficking, threats, violence, attempted kidnapping, injuries, healthy doses of angst

Note: hahahahaha once again I'm begging you all to pretend I posted this when it's still the 14th somewhere in the world. Please enjoy.

---

Damian didn't mean to get caught. Honest. As annoying as it is, he understands that there are certain parts of their nightlife that have to be handled by an adult. Going undercover, for one, is usually something that's left to Grayson. It's easier for adults to blend into some things than it is for... well... Teenagers.

Children, as Grayson would say. Even though Damian is not a child.

Not that it matters, however. Grayson, for the past week, has been putting off their normal patrols to get insider information on a recent underground trafficking scheme. Grayson has been working hard to find the people responsible for this and get on the inside to find where the victims are being kept and Damian had respected that. He's kept to the sidelines and worked on other cases that don't require so much adult delicacy.

The only issue was that tonight he ended up getting bored. There wasn't anything for him to do, and that butler wasn't giving him any useful suggestions to fill his time. He wasn't allowed to patrol alone while Grayson was undercover, but escaping through his bedroom window in a dark hoodie was simple enough.

One thing leads to another. He ended up walking into an alleyway where a man was getting rather forceful with a drunk woman. Damian was jogging forward and calling him out on the disgusting behavior before he even realized he recognized the profile of the man.

Grayson turned from the woman with wide, horrified eyes, not moving a muscle even as the woman slipped from beside him and rushed back into the bar's side door.

"Shit," is all Grayson said before more people came out from the shadows, and Damian realizes he's just stumbled upon Grayson's undercover work.

Damian, for all of his training, has no idea what to do as he's suddenly grabbed by one of the newcomers. He's just witnessed Grayson in his undercover work... attempting to kidnap a woman... and he shouldn't be here.

"The fuck did this brat come from," the man grabbing Damian sneers.

Damian reacts instinctively now, slamming his elbow back into their gut. The man wheezes and weakens his hold. Damian then ducks under a new pair of arms making a mad grab for him and is sure to trip them over onto the cement ground as they stumble past.

A beefier man charges at Damian like a bull, and he prepares to retaliate... only for Grayson to grab him by his arm and shove Damian behind his back.

"Wait," Grayson gasps, bringing his free hand up in front of him. The man stops in his tracks, as do all the others. "It's my... brother."

"Your brother?" A woman scoffs, and Grayson gives her a hard look.

A mean looking man steps forward, glaring daggers at Grayson. "What's he doin' here Malone? Thought'chu said you weren't followed."

"I'm sorry," Grayson says, sounding panicked. Damian wants to jump out from behind Grayson and give these kidnappers a piece of his mind. There can't be more than seven of them. Damian can take them with his hands tied behind his back. Grayson must sense this, because he tightens his hold on his arm. "I thought he was at home."

"Well, he wasn't," the man snarls. "And now that bitch is probably in there telling the barkeep some guy got handsy with her."

Grayson shakes his head. "She isn't. I paid off the barkeep. If we calm down, I can go back in there and finish the job. Danny here won't say anything, he knows what we have to do to survive these streets. Right, Danny?"

Damian's lips thin, but he nods. Damian doesn't know why Richard is acting all frightful right now. Has he forgotten the legacy of Damian's father that he holds? He carries the name of Batman, yet here he is looking like a frightened animal in front of these low-lives. He wants to argue and take down these imbeciles... but if there's one thing he's learned while in his ever lengthening stay in Gotham, Grayson usually has a reason for everything he does. If he thinks they need to act like they're frightened, then Damian will humor him. For now.

The man looks down from Grayson and gives Damian a narrowed look. It lasts only a moment before he looks at the bar side-door and... smirks?

He looks back at Grayson, keeping that smirk. "Alright, Malone. I'll take you up on that offer. You get the bitch, and we'll take care of Danny."

A bad feeling settles in Damian's gut. The hand on his arm tightens even more, proof that Grayson has the same bad feeling. They don't have a chance to say anything about it, however, before the man strides forward and grabs Damian by his other arm; yanking him away from Grayson and towards the big man.

Grayson shoots them a murderous glare, but doesn't come to Damian's aid as the big man tightens both of his hands on Damian's biceps. His pointer fingers press just under his shoulders, and he swears his pinkies wrap close to Damian's elbows.

"Go on," the talkative man says, jerking his head to the door, showing his rotting teeth in a grin. "Get the bitch."

Grayson shoots a look Damian's way, then nods. "Okay," he says placidly. "Okay." He turns his back and starts towards the door.

Then, the man looks at another in their group and nods his head. The man's cheeks rise like a Cheshire cat before he starts towards Grayson, raising a fist.

"Grayson! Look out!" Damian shouts. Grayson, for his part, reacts immediately. He ducks under the blow and side steps his attacker.

However, that's all Damian sees before the man that has him in his grasp changes position quite suddenly so that Damian is practically hanging in his grasp—an arm the size of a log wrapped around his neck. Damian's hands fly to the arm and he attempts to kick his feet for purchase. His air is already cut off, and he curses himself for getting in a situation like this.

He stills, however, when something cold and metal is pressed against his head by the man's free hand. Through blurry eyes and choking gasps, he notices Grayson has gone still too.

"I knew you were fishy," the man from before cackled. "Grayson? That your real name?"

Grayson glares, but doesn't move.

"Here's what's gonna happen, you're gon let us do whatever we want wit'cha, and maybe we'll let the kid live after."

And just like that, Grayson is at the receiving end of a savage blow to his jaw from another member of the group. Grayson stumbles and clutches his jaw, but he doesn't fight back even as another jumps in and throws their own punch. Damian can already see blood dripping down his cheek from a cut in the skin.

He's hit again, and he continues to not fight back. Damian knows he'll take the beating, even though he can easily take them down. He won't risk the gun pressed against Damian's head. He won't risk the arm wrapped so right around Damian's neck it feels like he's breathing through a coffee straw.

A particularly savage punch has Grayson falling to the floor, scraping his hands, elbows, and knees on the rough and suspiciously wet asphalt. Damian growls and digs his nails into the arms of his captor, but they tighten the grip threateningly and his struggles are forced to come to a stop.

Pathetic. Idiotic. Childish. This is Damian's fault. Every blow that hits Grayson's body as punches are replaced by kicks might as well be dealt by Damian himself.

He argues with Grayson. Calls him out on not acting how his father would. He calls him incompetent, insignificant, idiotic... but some time these past few weeks the bite he means to carry with those words have turned fond.

He... He likes Grayson. He's the first person to show Damian unconditional kindness... other than his own mother. While being stuck here with him rather than his own father had, at first, been miserable and annoying... it's turned out to be... fun. For the first time in his life, he almost feels like a normal kid with Grayson here to lead him along the way.

Damian wonders at night if that's what his mother intended. Why she hasn't taken him back yet.

He doesn't mind it. He likes the time that he spends with Grayson now, even if he would never admit it. And here he is, helpless and unarmed as Grayson is being beaten to a bloody pulp all because Damian couldn't listen to instructions and snuck out when he shouldn't have.

For a moment, pure terror fills Damian's veins that he's most likely going to witness the death of Grayson tonight. If he tries to fight his captor, he'll get a bullet in his brain. If Grayson decides to fight back, then Damian would die anyways. Grayson wouldn't do that. He would rather die himself.

Another blow hits Grayson's body, and he lays on the ground and groans, unmoving for a worrying few seconds.

Then, the bar door slams open and the woman from before runs out with fire in her dark eyes. No one has a chance to do anything before she kicks the main guy in the jaw, sending him down to the floor with more force than any woman... or man... should have.

Damian doesn't question it. The rest of them are distracted by her sudden entrance, and Damian uses that to his advantage. He throws his hands up and grabs at his captor's distracted face and claws at his eyes. The man yowls and drops Damian, leaving Damian completely free to make his own attack. He easily disarms him and jumps onto his back, wrapping his own arms around the man's neck and squeezing as tightly as he can.

It's all over in a matter of seconds. The man falls unconscious in Damian's grasp, and the woman finishes taking out the others.

She was in on this whole thing too, Damian realizes as she rushes towards Grayson's still form and grabs his arm.

Grayson blinking slowly at her through already bruising eyes and whispering "Donna..." is all the proof Damian needs to confirm his suspicion.

"I got you, boy wonder," Donna says fondly. She helps him to his feet and wraps his arm firmly around her shoulders, helping him stand. She looks at Damian. "You got a way to get us out of here, squirt? The cops are gonna be on their way any minute."

"What-" Damian starts, then pauses. Shame fills his gut. "What about the mission?"

"It's fine," Grayson says with a pained strain in his voice. "They're low in the chain. Won't be missed in prison. Can't give much away. I'll-" he cuts off to gasp as Donna shifts her hold on him. "I'll just try again later."

Damian nods, but the guilt doesn't leave. He looks away from Grayson and Donna to pull out his phone and request Pennyworth send the Batmobile to their position.

The entire way back to the manor is filled with tense silence, broken only by Grayson's hissed curses and groans as Donna helps give immediate first aid to the worst of the bruises and cuts.

Damian... he messed up. He disobeyed Richard and ruined the mission. This woman, Donna, is a better companion to Grayson than Damian ever was. Or will be. They get along. She's kind. She was trusted enough by Grayson to bring her in on his solo mission, and she clearly trusted him enough to go along with it and let herself be captured.

Grayson will never trust him as much as her. He's... He's fucked it all up. He won't want Damian around anymore. He'll want to send him back to the League, and if his mother and grandfather don't take him then his suit and the name of Robin must surely now be forfeit.

Drake will take back the suit, and Damian will forever be left behind by the man he thought... He hoped...

Sitting by his bedside after assisting Pennyworth in dressing Grayson's wounds... he mulls these thoughts over in his head. Grayson is fast asleep, and Donna has retreated upstairs for a shower and dinner by Pennyworth's insistence.

Then, as he's considering leaving so he's not the first thing Grayson sees when he wakes up, a hand grabs hold onto his.

"Don't blame yourself," Grayson whispers, blinking through his puffed up and exhausted eyes. Damian wonders how long he's been sitting here with his thoughts and when Grayson started to awaken without him noticing. "You have the same look in your eyes... That B always did..."

Heat flairs behind Damian's eyelids. He bursts. "But this is my fault. If I hadn't gone out- if I had listened-"

Suddenly, his hand is jerked, and Damian is dragged onto the cot and into Grayson's arms. He attempts to fight the hold, but Grayson holds tight despite his injuries.

"Mistakes happen," Grayson says, "they always do. I will never give up on you, Dames. No matter how many you make. Trust me on that."

He sounds so very much in pain, but he's relentless in his hold. All Damian can do is stop his struggling and lay in Grayson's grasp. His brain studies the words said to him, and his heart wants to believe him. Guilt pools to his throat and he opens his mouth to let it out before he can stop himself.

"I'm sorry," he chokes. He doesn't know when he started to return the hold Grayson had him in. His hands are bunched in the material of Grayson's shirt.

Grayson shushes him. "It's okay," he says. "What's done is done, and we've learned. We're okay. I got you."

And perhaps it's the moment of weakness, but Damian can't help but believe him.

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #dick grayson #robin #nightwing #dc comics #jin writes #fanfiction #violence tw #kidnapping tw #held at gunpoint #guns tw #im just in the mood for batman!dick and robin!damian angst this week huh?#hopefully donna being here made sense lmao

124 notes · View notes

thomas-reynolds · 3 years

Text

CAUGHT UP // 001

WHO: Griffin x Jamie x Thomas WHERE: The apartment. TW/NOTES: Nsfw. Griff and Tommy-boy come home early from the bar thanks to Griffin’s heavy drinking, and catch Jamie in the act with some dude. Things get heated and not in the fun way, and they end up a little worse for wear.

JAMIE ::

"My place doesn't work." Those four fateful words would normally leave Jamie shrugging and moving on to the next guy. It was a night out, after all, and he didn't have to take home the first hot guy he found. But this one was so hot. Taller than him, but just slightly. Bright blue eyes and a come and get me grin. Maybe it was more the attitude than the looks, and maybe James had downed one too many gold rushes. Maybe it was the fact that it was the beginning of summer, and hot was taking on multiple meanings here. James couldn't put his finger on what the hell it was that made him say these bolds words, but he heard himself saying them all the same. "Let's go back to my place." A husky whisper in the other guy's ear, and the two of them tumbled out of the club and into a cab.

Jamie lost his shirt at the front door, a solid thud echoing through the place as he was backed against it, and then a moan as his hookup- David? Daniel? kissed along his neck, his hands moving lower. "Don't leave a mark." He was already living dangerously. Odds were that Thomas and Griffin wouldn't randomly end up coming back home, but you could never be too careful. Now that he'd gotten that one stipulation out of the way, it was all too easy to let go and focus on the feelings. This would only ever happen once, and since he was already damned anyway, he might as well make the most of it.

More clothes were shed as they made their way to a bedroom. He didn't stop to shut the door, his hands too busy roaming Daryl's body to think of such a mundane detail. He didn't need to prepare himself much before he situated himself on top, sinking down onto the beautiful man's cock and thoroughly enjoying the view. He was close when everything went south. It was nice, having the place to himself, not needing to bother with being quiet. He was breathing hard by this point, choosing expletives that he wouldn't be caught dead saying in church instead of accidentally moaning the wrong name.

GRIFFIN ::

Getting kicked out of a bar was not new for Griffin Rollins, but getting kicked out just after nine o’clock was impressive. Or embarrassing, if he had any shame left, but he didn’t seem to, not with the way Thomas’ lecture was just rolling off his back. He could probably recite the speech back to him at this point - y’know, when he could string a sentence together without slurring. It probably meant something that the barkeep knew to call Thomas - his roommate, yes; his buddy, sure; but decidedly not a loved one, not his significant other - but that was the nice thing about being this hammered: Griffin could blissfully ignore all the flashing neon signs from the universe that he was, in fact, still a fuck-up.

That same universe was spinning by the time the men reached their front door, the dark-haired one making a valiant effort to retrieve his keys only for his hand to be impatiently batted away. As they stepped into their place, Griffin moaned out a curse - or, he thought he did, but it didn’t sound like himself. And it was coming from the wrong direction.

His eyes flashed over to Thomas’ face, trying to decipher what the fuck was going on, and he looked as far from happy as he had when he’d showed up at the bar, but now the daggers weren’t being directing at Griffin. The blonde was looking past him, and it took a carefully-executed turn to discover what he was looking at: a naked hottie riding a cock in Pearson’s bed. Griffin’s liquor-fogged mind took what felt like an eon to realize that was bad, for two reasons. 1) The naked hottie was not Thomas’ sister, and 2) The naked hottie was Pearson.

Griffin’s fingers immediately fisted in the front of Thomas’ shirt, partially in an attempt to keep him exactly where he was, and partially to keep himself upright. “Hey, hey, Tommy, hey -”

THOMAS ::

Getting the call shouldn’t have come as any sort of surprise. After all, Thomas took more phone calls regarding Griffin’s health and well-being than he’s sure Griffin’s own mother ever took. Picked him up from enough bars, enough gutters, even football practice when they were teens and his mom conveniently ‘forgot’ him at the school. Typically, Thomas wore the eternal baby-sitter badge like a medal of honor - used it to badger and annoy Griffin into some semblance of shame when he was even a modicum of sober. Now though, when Thomas himself had been getting his feet wet at the bar, a young brunette with too dark lipstick and overly straightened hair, but big enough breasts to be worth his effort practically hanging off of his arm - now it was annoying.

Even when it was more tolerable, Thomas didn’t let Griffin think otherwise anyway, but still. The point still stands, he thought, staring at the doors of a crusty old bar that screamed ‘burn your clothes when you leave here’ and definitely had enough bikers and hookers outside to make your grandmother faint on impact. Convincing the bouncer to not knock his friend’s head in was simple enough, it was actually the waitress whom Griffin palmed on the way out that seemed to cause the most trouble - and by the time they were on the way back to the apartment, drunken hands pulling at the collar of Thomas’ shirt (and stretching out the goddamned hole), Thomas had almost begun his ranting on auto pilot.

A little, “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? Like a fucking gutter rat. What the fuck were you drinking anyway? You smell like fucking paint-thinner --” The words died on Thomas’ lips, cheeks, ears and chest heating in a way that would make him worry that he’s finally going six feet under (and maybe he is, if his blood pressure could go any higher), and it reminded him of the time he got incredibly crossfaded at Brittany Deering’s party back in 10th grade and blacked out in her bathtub for a few hours, barely avoiding being puked and pissed on by fellow students in the same position as him. It took him entirely too quickly, Thomas’ body moving on its own accord, Griffin’s hands pawing at him like a cheap stripper, and Pearson’s wide open door looked like a gateway to Heaven, or at the very least a convenience store with the automatic slider-doors jammed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Thomas’ voice didn’t sound like his own, but he supposed that it was difficult to even hear properly with all of the blood rushing through his ears, “I will kill you.” The thump in his chest had nothing to do with the fact that his best friend was clearly cheating on his sister with some...some fruity weirdo with floppy hair and stupidly blue eyes, but he was bound and determined to ignore that little fact - ignore the voice that said just tell him already and instead, encouraged the one that said, he’s got a nice neck for strangling.

“This is what you do when we’re not here? Fool around with discount Matthew McConaughey?” It definitely wasn’t a snarl, if you asked Thomas, but the clenching fist at his side, the one not hanging onto Griffin’s half-dead body, promised something lethal.

JAMIE ::

“Fuuuuck-“ turned into “Oh, fuck” entirely too quickly for Jamie’s liking. He was off that dick quicker than he’d moved in a long time. Hastily looking over his shoulder and seeing Thomas’ face twisted in rage should have killed his hard on in an instant, but it didn’t. He’d blame that on how hot Damon was and how far along into their hookup they’d been. “Fuck off Thomas, you two were supposed to be out, anyway!” He stepped into his underwear quickly, pulling on a pair of pants hastily as well. “What the fuck?” Danny was dazed, understandably confused that all of the sudden their hookup for two was now a foursome. Then, “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No!” James replied immediately, forcing a look of disgust at the mere thought of it. Or at least, his best attempt. “You need to go.” There was no salvaging this hookup, unfortunately, and he was just glad that he’d managed to make it to his own room so sweatpants were readily available. Damian had apparently gotten the point and was quickly getting redressed as well. Thomas was still mad, and honestly it was probably best to just let him be mad instead of trying to placate him. Trying that would only make it worse. Nah, he was gonna let the anger run its course and then let it go. But then it hit him, and all the color drained from his face. “You can’t tell her.” The thought of that happening made him want to throw up, and he moved a little closer, eyes wide and a little scared even as he tried to hide it. “It was nothing. Just blowing off some steam, and it doesn’t even count, you wouldn’t have known because you two were supposed to be out!” His gaze turned accusingly to Griffin for a second, and it didn’t take long to piece together what had happened. “And besides, Griffin is drunk, clearly we have bigger problems to worry about.” Yeah, pull focus. Dawson could sneak out while the two of them had a serious talk with Griffin about substance use. Jamie’s gaze flashed to Griffin again. He couldn’t decide which one of them to look at at this point. Griffin was most likely to take his side here, so he probably shouldn’t have just thrown him under the bus.

GRIFFIN ::

Griffin managed a small, two-finger salute to Jamie’s date as he passed by, clothing in his arms - or maybe it looked like he was putting a gun to his own temple, which also seemed applicable. His eyes followed the stranger’s naked ass until it disappeared into the bathroom, just in time to detect his name tumbling into this shitshow. “‘m always drunk,” he shot back in what he genuinely believed to be a solid defense. “Dsn’t count.”

God, he just wanted to be on a horizontal surface, even if it was Jamie’s bed of iniquity, and he considered making a move toward it until his last brain cell insisted that his deadweight was likely the only thing keeping Thomas anchored in place. If he could just defuse this disaster of a situation, he knew the blonde would get him into his own bed. Or the couch. Or at least onto the kitchen floor with a towel for a blanket.

“Tommy, Tommy, TommyTommyTommy, listen ... listen t’ me ... your sisterdsn’t have a dick!” he offered, finally releasing the other man’s shirt in order to wave his hands in a messy what’re-ya-gonna-do gesture. By his incredibly flawed, alcoholic logic, if Pearson wanted to fuck a dude - and understandably so, dudes being as hot as they were - he couldn’t go to Thomas’ sister. No harm, no ... whatever.

THOMAS ::

Thomas steadily ignored his own feline-reminiscent hiss as Hunky Brewster walk-of-shame’d his way out of their apartment, passing it off as some sort of controlling his temper, or silently letting out a prayer to the God he didn’t believe in but heard enough about from Jamie. The heat turned to ice in the pit of his glorious, god-like abdomen after every single ‘Tommy’ that left his friend’s mouth, “Griff, shut your fucking mouth -- and you,” He practically spit, pulling both himself and Griffin closer to the blonde in the bedroom like a boat and a buoy toward the middle of a storm, “It’s not cheeeeeeating as long as you don’t get caaaaught.” Thomas mocked his friend as the storm seemed to settle inside of his own chest, thunder and lightning begging to be let out through some sort of violence.

“I’m going to kick your ass - and then, I’m going to call my sister, and she’s going to come over here and kick your ass, you stupid, useless moron.” The dark feelings seemed to bubble and burst all in one quick second, and if Thomas could have taken a breath and really looked at the situation for what it was, and the jealousy that seemed to eat at him, the conflict likely could have been avoided. But the thick stench of sweat and alcohol from Griffin, and the same aroma from Jamie’s room seemed to override any sort of consideration that Thomas could have provided. And with that, he dropped Griffin like a sack of fucking potatoes and darted for Jamie’s face, hissing when his hit landed. Thomas was too busy cradling his knuckles to know if he’d even hit his damned target, but the swelling would be worth it if he’d gotten to cause Jamie some sort of agony he’d have to live for the next few days too. Once the blind rage passed and Thomas was left shaking, clutching his wrist like grandmother’s prized fucking pearls, he finally bit words for Griffin instead, “I don’t care that my sister doesn’t have a goddamned dick - she’s - he spouts all of this holier-than-thou bullshit that he doesn’t even follow! He just committed sodomized, pre-marital sex! And he wasn’t even on top!”

The words felt hysterical, and the laughter that left Thomas wasn’t one filled with any sort of joy; it was hollow and empty, or maybe not empty, but only filled with envy and anger. He darted for Jamie again, hissing between his teeth.

JAMIE ::

James wasn’t sure when he realized that there wouldn’t be any coming back from this. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Thomas this pissed, and that was saying something. Hell, in the past, he’d helped talk Thomas down from being this pissed at someone else. Now the fury was totally directed at him, and he fought the instinct to move back as Thomas dragged himself and Griffin closer. He wasn’t a coward. “It’s not cheating if I don’t even know his name!” It was. It absolutely was, but he’d learned from the best how to navigate with a broken moral compass. This was quite literally a situation of how what someone didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He’d done this for years, from hurried hookups behind the bleachers to an empty dugout, sneaking out at midnight and meeting someone he’d used to go to Sunday school with. It was a sin, sure, but he wasn’t gay. He went to confession after every incidence, and he was forgiven. It was just that simple.

“Don’t,” he warned, his expression going from worried to murderous. “Tell her, Thomas, and I swear to God.” Might as well add taking the Lord’s name in vain. Today couldn’t possibly be any worse. In that moment, the bubble burst. It occurred to him briefly that Thomas could have set Griffin down nicely, but then it was too late as he felt pain exploding across his cheek. Thomas packed a pretty decent punch, even if he didn’t much look like it. For the moment, he resigned himself to it, didn’t hit back even though his fist balled up by his side and he wanted to. He’d stumbled back after the initial punch, but he regained his footing. And then Thomas was talking again, listing off all the big sins, sins that were meant to be kept in private, in the confessional booth, just him and the priest. That alone made him itch with rage, but he held back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he didn’t really want to hurt Thomas. But then he laughed and it all went to hell. He surged forward at the same time Thomas did, and they collided. “Fuck. You!” He threw the next punch, hoping to land a matching shiner, putting his full force behind it. He didn’t care anymore. “It doesn’t count as pre-marital,” he growled, “if it’s not a possibility to marry.” He still couldn’t make himself use the right pronoun.

GRIFFIN ::

Now, granted, he had been wanting to lie down, but hurtling to the hardwood without any warning hadn’t exactly been ideal. Griffin laid there, still more or less grateful to be off his feet, listening to an argument that probably would have seemed a fuckton more intense if it hadn’t sounded so underwater. He even missed the first punch, arm thrown over his eyes as he willed the room to knock it off with the spinning - but he did here the telltale sound of two bodies colliding, and forced himself up onto his elbows. And then onto his knees. And then onto his feet.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey -“ The man had exactly one word in his vocabulary at the moment, which he repeated as he stumbled over to a mound of limbs made up of his two best friends. He was already pushing it, with the walking, but the attempt to pull one of the guys off the other almost knocked him right back of his feet. He survived, though - until a rogue fist that may or may not have been meant for him caught him right in the gut. He reeled back, taking one, two, three steps towards the door before doubling-over and vomiting in the corner of Jamie’s room.

Well, it had been inevitable. At least now that part of the night was over. “HEY.” There he was. Still just as unsteady on his feet, but with renewed frustration, Griffin threw himself back into the mix.

THOMAS ::

"You probably wish you could! I'm pretty fantastic!" Thomas screamed over the man, attempting to shove Jamie, and petulantly ignoring Griffin until the guy practically took an arrow for him, projectile vomiting in the same space as them. "Nice fucking job - punching the fucking drunk. Want to talk to God about that too? You like things in your ass and you hit your best friend!"

Griffin managed to get between them and Thomas couldn't help the muttered, "You fucking reek, dude-" that left him, his arm reaching out to swing wildly at Jamie over the other man's shoulder. How ridiculous, they must have looked, three grown men throwing punches and shouting expletives at one another in the middle of the night. If the neighbors banging on the wall were anything to go by, they probably agreed with him.

"Don't touch me - don't you fucking," Thomas hissed as a spare slap managed to get him right in the nose, rust immediately dripping over the bottom portion of his face, "I'm going to tell her so fucking hard, you son of a bitch," He whined around the hand cupping his nose and mouth, practically shielding himself with Griffin's larger body. "I can't stand you two - I - it smells like shit in here," The babbling continued, even though he really couldn't smell anything with his nose full of blood clots.

JAMIE ::

“I was on top!” Jamie insisted, shoving back at Thomas. He really hadn’t intended to punch Griffin, but he was the one who’d ended up throwing himself in between the two of them. What did he think was going to happen. “I was aiming for you, asshole!” His blood was really boiling right now, and Jesus, how had this night managed to go so horribly wrong? It had started out hot and fun and devolved into, well, whatever this shit show was.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned as he heard Griffin lose his dinner in the corner of his room. Add that to the list of shit that he didn’t want to deal with. He’d be cleaning it up, of course, because Griffin clearly wasn’t in any state to, and he didn’t want his room to smell like puke while he waited for Griffin to sober up and handle it. The one last slap was admittedly satisfying, but he had to calm down. He had bigger problems on his hands. He had to convince Thomas not to tell her.

It occurred to him way too quickly what he had to do, the only way he was going to appeal to Thomas’ sense of reason. “Fine!” He shouted numbly. “Tell her. But who else do you think is going to be with her? We break up, she ends up an old fucking spinster for the rest of her life. Is that what you want for her? Huh?” He gave one more shove to prove his point. “You tell her, and you break her fucking heart. And for what? Because I’m getting a little on the side that she can’t give me? I’m the perfect boyfriend, Thomas. She won’t get better than me, and you know it.”

GRIFFIN ::

Somehow managing to dodge what could have been a really unfortunate elbow, Griffin was perfectly content with standing between his roommates now that things had boiled over and resolved into a simmer; still hot, still able to burn, but not quite as active. The shouting, he was pretty desensitized to. Between the three of them, someone was perpetually shouting at the other two, or two were shouting at each other, or two were shouting at one (he was usually the one, and he was usually inebriated). It was a special occasion when the trio were all shouting, though, which is normally what got the neighbors involved. Griffin reached over to land his fist on the wall three or four times, acknowledging their neighbor’s participation.

His back was turned to Thomas, who, though taller, was probably less of a real physical threat. As a result, he missed the bloody nose, but he did catch sight of Jamie’s split lip and the scarlet mark that was going to bloom into one hell of a bruise. “Better tell ‘er ya got mugged,” he suggested, finally throwing over a glance over his shoulder to survey the damage that was Thomas’ face. “Botha you. Ah, fuck, are you bleedinon my shirt?!”

Griffin was quiet for the rest of Jamie’s tirade, mostly because this was not his fight, but also because he was on both of their sides, so far as thinking the other was a royal fucking asshole. Kate was the closest thing he had to a sister, and he didn’t love the idea of her getting fucked over, but he would have been smart enough to not let an asshole like James anywhere near her to start with. And furthermore, he’d mean what he’d said, inarticulate as it may have been; monogamy was a societal construct, sexuality was a spectrum, and this was probably the best case scenario for both of them, really. Kate got to seriously level up in the boyfriend department, and Jamie got a doting woman on his arm for the sake of appearances.

“I think,” he opined on a big sigh, running a hand through his hair as though he was going to lay down some actual wisdom - but that wasn’t his brand. “I think that we should get nachos.”

THOMAS ::

Clicking his tongue, Thomas swished the copper around in his mouth, glaring daggers at his roommate. He probably looked like he'd been bobbing for apples in fake blood at this point, but it felt oddly satisfying to look a little deranged compared to his normal well-kempt state. "Should I let her be with a cheater and a liar anyway? Yeah, real fucking smart, asshole --" Even with Griffin's knocking effectively breaking the tension, the neighbors yelling back through the wall, there was something still boiling under the surface.

Something volatile, something that went by the name Jade.

"You don't need any nachos," He murmured, somewhat numb, yet manic. Auto-pilot had taken over, his palm running over his face, and Thomas wiped the mess on the back of Griffin's shirt. Eyes never leaving Jamie's, Thomas slowly slipped forward face impassive, blank. "One more thing," Oddly calm, Thomas reached out with a gentle, blood-smeared hand and laid the palm of it on Jamie's shoulder. He let the moment settle, let the silence take over for a moment, until it was bordering on confusing, before throwing himself forward and headbutting the man in turn, immediate pain blossoming behind his forehead, and spraying them both with his now-unclotted nose. "Bitch," he snarled under the waterfall of blood, before groaning and taking a hasty step back toward his drunken friend, ready to use him as a shield again if need be.

JAMIE ::

"Why, so you can throw 'em up in a different part of my room?" He usually had the decency to at least make it to a communal space, and yeah, James was still a little pissed that he needed to be taken home at all when the two of them had planned to be out and about for the night. It was a valiant effort, trying to get the two of them back on the same side so they could stop with the arguing, but deep down, Jamie knew this wasn't the kind of fight that Thomas would just get over. He'd fucked up, big time, and now instead of facing the music, he was doubling down. It had all seemed so innocent, harmless even, when it was just him and the flavor of the night. If what's his name that started with a D hadn't been so fucking hot, maybe this whole thing could have been avoided.

He ventured a glance at Thomas, partially hating himself for the fact that he'd messed up such a pretty face, but a small little part of himself was satisfied at the damage done. Served him right. How fucking hard would it have been to just turn around and go somewhere else for ten minutes? By that point, the hookup would have been kicked out, and they could all pretend that it had never happened. Jamie could have been blissfully ignorant, and honestly, that was one of the most underrated states a person could be in.

When Thomas put a hand on his shoulder, he tried to keep his expression neutral. As much as he hated to admit it, that hand on his shoulder had grounded him many times in the past, and its presence was all tied up with feelings of comfort and safety, feelings he definitely wasn't getting just now. Sure as shit, next came the sucker punch in the form of a headbutt, and the "Ow!" was almost equal parts pain and surprise. "Asshole!" he groaned, and he couldn't even get to him without Griff getting involved again. "Griffin, just get out of here. This is between me and him, and some of us can't take a hit." Unfortunately for him, all of the hits were starting to take a toll.

GRIFFIN ::

“Ahhrgh, God damn it,” he growled as he felt Thomas’ hand smear his bodily fluids down his back, rolling his shoulders in discomfort before yanking his shirt off, rolling it into a ball and tossing it out into the hall. At least the blonde’s shirt was just as fucked, he noticed, attention on the slightly taller man as he approached James. Good, fine, Thomas would say his final piece and then everyone could just - “Fuck!”

Before he could fully process the sudden movement and the accompanying spray of gore, Thomas has slipped behind him and he was staring down Jamie, the youngest of their dysfunctional little crew. “C’mon, Jay, jus-go lay down,” he muttered, intending to give a good-natured push to the kid’s chest, but still intoxicated enough to not know his own strength. The adrenaline he didn’t realize had been streaming through his system turned it into a fully aggressive shove, and Griffin felt the muscles in his shoulders tense as some part of him anticipated retaliation. Blue eyes flashed. “Go ta’ bed, Jamie.”

THOMAS ::

"Suck my dick, Pearson--" Dark pupils dilated at the shove, watching with intense interest. It wasn't often that Jamie and Griffin disagreed wholeheartedly, or at the very least enough to get into a physical altercation. Usually it was Thomas gravitating toward the violence, toward harsh words that stung and bit at insecurities - usually he was the flint and steel basking at either of his friends' heels.

Still, it ignited something in him, to see Griffin shove the younger man, even if unintentionally. While they all agreed to disagree at who really was whose best friend, Thomas liked to believe he was just as much of a fire as he was the glue keeping them together. "You shoved him, man," The words were weirdly tense, odd even to himself, in the quiet of the room. "You gonna take that?" Blue eyes flick to Jamie's.

JAMIE ::

For a second, he considered it. He wasn't going to just lay down, but getting himself to a different room, where they kept the cleaning supplies probably, and doing something else was probably the best way to handle this. But then he shoved him, hard, as if to make sure to drive his point home. "Seriously?" he demanded, his own gaze accusing.

"You're seriously gonna take his side? I woulda come to get you too, and then none of this would have happened." He shoved back, not knowing or caring if Thomas was close enough to catch him. "You go to bed. I have someone else's mess to clean up, as usual." The puke in the corner of the room wasn't going anywhere, after all.

GRIFFIN ::

As he stumbled back into Thomas, Griffin’s ego maintained that he never would have budged if he’d been sober. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t; really, how often was he truly sober, so there wouldn’t be exactly an opportunity to find out. If he’d been sober, he also probably wouldn’t have lunged for Jamie, taking him out at the waist and forcing him to collapse onto his own mattress. “Said, LAY DOWN,” he repeated, scrambling to straddle the man’s hips, and trying to grab at his wrists. “Enough!”

The word was paired with a death glare to Thomas, who may not have been pinned under him, but only because it was physically impossible for Griffin to sedate both of them at once. “You’re both douchebags!”

“I called you,” he muttered after a moment, still slap-fighting James for submission. “You were busy.” It was completely lost on the brunette, of course, that his current position wasn’t terribly different from the way they’d stumbled upon Jamie a few minutes before.

THOMAS ::

Despite the urge to cover his throbbing nose from any more of the crossfire, Thomas stood back from the other two men, eyes dark and irritable. Thomas was the reliable one - was the man you called when you needed someone to get you out of a mess, or pick you up at the bar on a Friday night at 9pm because you were so drunk you couldn't see straight. He was the ultimate provider, the best friend any guy could ask for. Clearly, Griffin appreciated that more than Jamie.

"Am I interrupting?" He blinked his eyelashes prettily, words mocking as they left his lips. His shirt was the only one left on, and it was...incredibly sticky at that point, if he was being honest. With a grimace, he plucked at the collar, hissing when his hand came away sore. He would be bruised and battered, and rough the following day - no amount of cover-up was going to suffice to hide the giant bowling ball of a bruise on his head, or the massive swelling of his nose. He'd talk like a fucking Lollipop Guild member for a week at this rate.

"I went to pick up this clown while you were out here blowing some guy." Thomas stuck his chin up, defiant despite the angry look sent to him by Griffin, who was oddly being the sensible one (not that Thomas would ever admit that. To anyone. Ever.)

JAMIE ::

James was honestly taken aback by Griffin's sudden lunge in his general direction. He was stupidly effective for being drunk, and Jamie wanted to be mad about it, but he was suddenly distracted by how Griffin was just on top of him like this. He blamed that on the surprise of it all as well. Griffin never would have gotten him into this position if James had seem him coming.

Ignoring the insult, he frowned when Griffin mentioned that he had called him. "Well, what the hell." He could have sworn he would have noticed a phone call from his best friend, but apparently hookup's dick game was too strong. Usually he was much more reliable than this. "Shut the fuck up, Thomas," he said, and the only reason that Griffin was still on top of him was because he didn't want to hurt him on accident. Again.

His face hurt and he wanted to either drink or take some ibuprofen or both and clean up the fucking mess that was still in the corner of his room. "Christ, get off me, Griffin." Why was he the one being restrained instead of Thomas? Thomas started this shit. He gave a considering expression before going for Griffin's ticklish spot instead, hoping the sudden distraction would give him some leeway to get out from under him and back toward his original target who couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his own damn life. "I didn't blow him, I was on fucking top!"

GRIFFIN ::

If he’d been able to read the other man’s thoughts, he probably would have chuckled, the low one that was particularly disarming when it was paired with his trademark sideways smirk. Sure, they’d blame it on the “surprise” and not the decade of running tackle drills before and after school, five days a week. Drunk as he was, muscle memory was a hell of a thing.

That, and puking up a stomach full of bourbon.

“Wash up, look like a fuckin’ horror movie,” Griffin ordered in Thomas’ general direction, not moving a muscle, not just yet. If the two of them were going to lunge at each other again, he could sit right there all night - or at least until the hazy, spinny kind of sleep that went along with being this sloshed came to claim him. “You, jus’ stop talking,” he muttered, quieter considering that James was only so far away from him. “Nobody cares ‘fya sucked a dick, Pearson.”

When he eventually slid from the younger man’s waist, Griffin moaned in relief at the feel of a mattress beneath him, bribing his body to move with the promise that if he stretched out just the slightest bit, he’d finally be able to close his eyes. “Why’s yer bed so nice?”

THOMAS ::

A flash of something dark flickered over Thomas' face, his struggle with authority desperately trying to rear its head. With a calming breath, he tried to pull that little voice inside of his head that sounded like his dumb, quack sister that reminded him about breathing exercises and adrenaline. After counting to 10, Thomas gingerly pulled his collared shirt over his head, the polo wet with moisture and a stink of dried blood. Scrunching his nose, he dropped the offending garment into Jamie's hamper, on top of clothes probably covered in some dude's jizz. "Looks like you have a roommate tonight," He pointed out helpfully, making his way toward the bathroom.

He was back a quick moment later, having procured the small cleaning caddy from under the bathroom sink, including the hand-held spot cleaner. It was uncanny, how many times they'd had to clean up 90% alcohol-vomit, and Thomas hated that he'd grown so used to it after 15-odd years of knowing these morons. "Take your shoes off, you heathen," Thomas spit at Griffin without much effort behind it, focused instead on cleaning the puddle out of the corner of Jamie's room.

After scrubbing for a few odd minutes, and one glare in Griffin's direction later, Thomas picked himself back up, knees aching with the effort of the movement. He was getting old. He stored the cleaning products back in the cabinet and found himself leaning against the doorframe when he re-entered the room. "What food do you want, Griff?" Thomas asked, placated and quiet after the fall-out of so much drama. Getting his face bashed in was a reset button, apparently. Annoying, but effective. "I'm not dealing with the whininess when you're hung over tomorrow."

JAMIE ::

"He started it," James muttered in response when Griffin told him to stop talking. It was juvenile, but he couldn't help it. This whole thing could have been avoided about six ways to Sunday. If Griffin hadn't gotten drunk, if Thomas hadn't immediately started raging about it, if he hadn't brought someone home in the first place. It was pretty clear that they were all partially to blame for this shit show, but the petty side of him wanted to be the one that ended it.

He still had no idea if Thomas was going to tell Kate, but that seemed like a problem for future Jamie. For now, he just wanted to wallow in his failed hookup. He figured that since he hadn't even gotten the chance to get off from this one, there wasn't really a need to do any sort of confessional. Jamie scoffed at Griffin's next words. God cared if he sucked a dick, which also, he hadn't. "Don't tell anyone." These words were directed at both of them, quiet, yet deeply meaningful. He didn't know what he'd do if people found out. Hell, his two best friends had just found out, and he wasn't exactly sure what to do about it.

Jamie had no idea where Thomas was going when he headed out of his room, and a part of him wondered if he was going to make that phone call. Anxiety prickled all over his body, and he had to remind himself to breathe. A moment before he was going to get up and follow him, Thomas came back with the cleaning supplies. A begrudging "Thanks," rolled off his lips as he sat up in bed to address Thomas' next words. Rolling onto his knees, he took off one shoe and tossed it out into the hallway, landing with a thunk. The other came next, tossed in the same general direction. "PB&J?" he asked Griffin, knowing that it'd be best to go for something easier on the stomach.

GRIFFIN ::

This was how the world worked for Griffin Rollins, the way it had always worked. He did what he wanted to do, it made a fucking mess, he smiled and fumbled his way into some unintentional wit, and it all ended up being taken care of ... usually by one of the two bloodied men who were currently milling around the room, no doubt accomplishing just that. He didn’t open his eyes to check. That was the way he preferred it, really; if he never fully noticed just how much other people did to save his ass time after time, he never fully needed to thank them.

“Nachooooos,” he moaned at the mention of food, knowing full well he’d likely pass out before anything that required delivery would arrive at the apartment. As it was, he was already slipping in and out of consciousness. The bed smelled like sweat and Jamie’s shampoo, the sortakinda expensive stuff he got frustrated at Griffin borrowing when his own had run out. It still came from the drug store, but from the higher shelf; not the 3-in-1 body wash bullshit that Griffin smeared through his own hair.

“Go shower,” he mumbled to both and neither of them.

THOMAS ::

With narrowed eyes, Thomas turned to retreat into the kitchen, slapping together a few hastily made sandwiches (which were still entirely too neat, cut diagonally into two separate pieces) and brought them back to the bedroom, just in time for Griffin to begin bossing him around again. "What, this isn't doing anything for you?" Thomas pointed to the bloody mess on his face, chest, and arms.

Rolling his eyes, Thomas passed Jamie the plate, their hands brushing as he released the paper to him. Always something unbreakable, when Griffin was involved. Thomas would have loved to frequently use real plates and cups, but when a bumbling, drunk idiot was constantly falling around your apartment, it was better to have something that couldn't accidentally kill you. "If anyone needs a shower here, it's you. The landlady lives 5 miles away and I'm sure she can smell you from here."

Despite his deflections, Thomas really did need a shower. His blood had become caked and sticky on his skin, drying into flakes that made him want to scratch at his skin like a mangy dog. "Just...eat." With a tired sigh, Thomas ran a bruised hand through his hair, closing his eyes for just a moment. How did he always end up back here?

:: END ::

#001 #gjt

3 notes · View notes

valiantvigilant · 7 years

Text

Compromised [Part 2] (Dick Grayson x Reader)

hello everyone! This is Compromised Part 2! If you haven’t read Part 1, you can read it here (Hopefully this link works, if not please let me know!!) Well, I hope you enjoy! I apologize for this taking so long to be posted. I had a lot of shit going on in my life that wasn’t very good, but things are better now! I went on vacation and it really helped me relax and unwind so I could heal! Now that I’m back, I decided it was time to finish and finally post Compromised Part 2 haha! _____

Dick Grayson didn’t like waking up to an empty bed. Normally, you would be there, warming up the other half of the bed with your body heat. But, today when he rolled over and woke up, the right side of the bed was cold. He frowned and got up, his joints popping as he stretched. He looked down at his phone on the nightstand and picked it up. Unlocking it, his thumb instantly went to your contact and hovered over the call button. - You were packing your bags, Jason accompanying you. The two of you sat in the living room as you picked out what you wanted/ needed to bring. Simultaneously, you had the file on Danilo Carrera pulled up on your hologlove. “What’s this Danny guy like anyway?” Jason asked as he folded his clothes. “He is a total creep. He kept touching me and flirting with me,” you reply in disgust. “I don’t regret punching him in the face one bit. I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.” “I’m proud of you (N/N),” Jason said with a grin. You roll your eyes and smile back. You were about to say something back when Dick’s contact came up on your screen, indicating that he was calling you. You pursed your lips and decided to answer the call. “Hello?” “(Y/N)! I, uh…hi.” He began awkwardly. “I woke up and you weren’t next to me…” “Yeah, I stayed at the Manor last night,” you reply. “I figured…” There was an uncomfortable silence before he broke it again. “I h-heard that you and Jason have a flight to an island near Santa Prisca.” You raised your eyebrow at the fact that he stuttered. Dick hadn’t sounded this nervous since he first asked you out back when you were teenagers. “Yes, we do.“ “If it’s okay with you, I was wondering if I could…come say goodbye before you go.” You chewed the inside of your cheek as you took in that sentence. “Sure.” “R-Really?! I’ll be over soon!” He said hurriedly and hung up. You sighed and ran your fingers through your (h/l) (h/c) locks. “Even with the way he acted yesterday, you still give him your entire heart. Just as you do every day.” Jason comments with a side smile. You turn and look at him, giving a soft one in return. “He’s the love of my life, even if he did act like a complete asshole.“ - Dick Grayson drove anxiously to the Manor, clutching the ring tightly in his right hand. He felt so nauseous right now, his palms were sweaty and the stress was building again. He wasn’t used to this feeling, not at all. Dick was accustomed to stress, but nothing like this. He took a deep breath once he pulled up and exhaled, slipping the ring in his pocket. Alfred opened the front door, greeted him, and then told him that you were upstairs in your room. Dick thanked the kind butler and headed directly to your said location. He took another shaky breath and knocked on your door. You had just finished double checking your room to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything when there was a knock at the door. You opened it to see your boyfriend, a weak smile on his usual cheery face. You figured it was all the stress he was under. You know from personal experience that stress can throw patience, empathy, logic, and control right out the window to be forgotten. You allowed him in and shut the door with your foot, giving you two some privacy. As soon as the door shut, he instantly began spewing apologies from his mouth. ”I’m sorry,“ he croaked out pathetically. “I’m so so sorry. I ruined everything last night. The mission ended up in shambles because of me and now you and Jason have to risk your lives to go to Santa Prisca because of my mistake. I’m so sorry, please forgi-” You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck in a warm hug. Stunned by the sudden embrace, Dick wasn’t quite sure what to do at first. However, he quickly snapped out of his little trance and hugged you back, almost immediately sinking into your figure. Pulling away from him for a minute you look at his face and see the dark circles and pale features. You put a hand to his cheek and rub your thumb under his eye. “What’s up with you? You haven’t been yourself lately,“ you ask gently. All your annoyance and disappointment because of his actions, vanished as you saw his stressed state. “I’m just so…overwhelmed,” he mumbled. “Bludhaven is becoming more and more of a mess, that case is tied into that, I messed everything up, and…” his voice trails as he thinks of the circular object in his pocket. “And?” You question. He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. But, I’m just so…done (Y/N). So stressed out. It’s making me feel sick.” You ran your fingers through his hair and he closed his eyes in relief. He loved it when you did that. “You do look quite pale. Maybe you should take a little break, love.” “I can’t. I need to protect people, and be there.” “My dear, you already do so much.” You replied. “Bruce is right. You need to get yourself in check before going out into the field again. You’re emotions are all churned up. It isn’t healthy to keep going like this.” He pulled away from you, his eyebrows knitting together. “I knew you would side with him. I know, I compromised the mission. I fucked up. It won’t happen again.” You frowned and crossed your arms over your chest. “We can’t take the risk of that happening again. Not when Black Mask and now Bane are involved. It’s too unpredictable.“ “Whatever (Y/N)! It’s always been about the mission with you anyway,” he snapped. Your eyes widened and you gave him a look of hurt. “That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” You say, becoming somewhat agitated. “You are working yourself to the bone Dick, you are loosing control of your emotions left and right. This is not normal.” “Don’t tell me what I need to do and not do (Y/N)! It’s my body and my life! I’m an adult and can make my own decisions!” He growled. “Perhaps you should start acting like an adult instead of a rebellious teenager!” You yelled back. The two of you glared at each other, the stare being full of fire and anger. You take a deep breath and close your eyes. “Look, obviously you have some shit you need to deal with right now. So, it’s good that I’m going away on this mission. It’ll give you some space,” you say, calming down. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark locks. “I’m sorry (Y/N)…I just…you’re right. I do have a lot on my mind,” he mumbled. “Of course I’m right,” you tease with a wink and a grin. You took his hand and the two of you made your way to the Batcave where Jason was waiting for you along with Tim and Damian. Bruce was at work, and Alfred was upstairs making lunch. (He had wished you and Jason a safe mission while you came down.) “Well, boys,” you state. “We will see you in a few days. Hopefully.” You engulf Tim and Damian in smothering hugs, which ended up in them two arguing over who you loved to hug more (besides Dick). You chuckled at their bickering and shook your head. “Okay, well if you two dumbasses are done arguing, (Y/N) and I have to get going.” Jason cut in. “Plus we all know that she loves to hug me more!” “No way Todd! She definitely loves to hug me more than you and Drake. I am best after Grayson,” Damian said, puffing out his chest. “Pft! As if!” Tim said sarcastically. “Boys, boys. After Dick, I love you all equally!” You assure with a laugh. Looking down at your watch, you realize that your flight was going to leave soon! “Alright, I’ll see you guys soon!” You give Tim and Damian one last hug before you turned to Dick. He engulfs you in a tight squeeze, burying his face in your hair. “I love you,” he murmured. “I love you too.” The two of you parted and he pulled you in for a passionate kiss (which had Tim and Damian gagging.) Dick put a hand to your face and rubbed small circles onto your cheek. You could sense the worry in his blue hues, so you gave him a gentle smile to calm them. “Don’t worry Bird Boy, I’ll come back to you in one piece,” you state with a wink. He lets out a small, nervous, laugh. “I won’t let anything happen to her,” Jason piped up. Dick and his brother locked eyes and the eldest sent a nod his way. He wanted more than anything to go on this mission with you. It’s not that he didn’t trust his brother…he just wanted to be by your side. He always was by your side, and you his. That’s just what you guys did. You were Dick and (Y/N), Nightwing and (Y/H/N). You were a team. You gave him one last kiss before you and Jason made your way to the zeta tubes. “(Y/N)! Wait!” Dick called out just before you walked in. You turned around and looked at him. “Hm?” He had the ring clenched in his fist and he opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. “Dick? Are you okay?” “I…I have something important to ask you when you get back,” he finally spoke, internally kicking himself as soon as the words left his mouth. “Oh, alright,” you reply with a crooked grin. “I’ll see you soon! I love you!” With those words, you and Jason disappeared with your bags. Dick sighed and put the ring back in his pocket, running his fingers through his hair in a stressful manner. “Grayson, you are pathetic,” Damian stated flatly. Dick whirrled around and glared at the youngest sibling. “I have to admit, the Demon is right Dick. That was just sad. Why don’t you ask her already?” Tim stated. “I don’t know! It’s just been plaguing my mind lately, and especially with last night’s mission and all the other crazy shit…I just can’t do it. I know, it’s sad and pathetic. Believe me, I’m aware.” “You better ask her soon, she is gonna find out eventually, whether you tell her or not.” Damian commented. Dick sighed once more. “I know.” - The flight to the safe island near Santa Prisca didn’t take long. (The perks of Bruce having connections got you two a faster flight.) From there, you guys took a motor boat to Santa Prisca, and the mission began. You and Jason were dressed in your hero uniforms and had placed comms in your ears before splitting up. You swiftly made your way through the thick jungle terrain and to the warehouse that Bane and Danny would most likely be in. Batman had said they received a tip that Black Mask would be here and they would finally conduct their business. You made your way to the roof of the building and wriggled into the air vents. “Red, I’m entering through the ducts. What’s your 20?“ “Garage number 3 was open because of a recent exportation of drugs which was to be shipped to…” his voice trailed. “Bludhaven, Gotham, and Metropolis. This apparently is bigger than just the Bat’s territory. I’m downloading and transferring the delivery schedule to you.” “Copy that,” you reply, pulling up the computer that was built into your hologlove. The information was downloaded and your eyes skimmed over the delivery schedule before receiving other files from Jason. An update map of the facility was one of the files, which you were grateful for. You had a lock on Jason’s location and scanned the map for a save rendezvous point. “Down the hallway, to the left of this room is a storage room. It’s right below me and it appears to have not been open for quite some time. According to its contents…in there are old vials of venom. The former formula it appears. It’s going to be sent to be destroyed two days from now,” you state. “Meet me there.” “10-4, (Y/H/N).” You quickly and quietly made your way through the vents to the room. Slipping down into the said place, you landed quietly on your feet. Jason soon entered the room as well and walked over to you. “What’s the plan (N/N)?” He asked. You pulled up the map and information of the facility so the two of you can see. “Well, there is a storage room down at the other end of the hall that contains the new Venom formula. We need a few samples of that, so Bats or Red Robin can analyze and break down. Now, down at the opposite end of the hall I’m going to go out on an educated guess and assume that this room is where Black Mask is having a meeting with Bane,” you explain. “One of us needs to get the Venom and the other needs to get evidence of this meeting,” Jason stated. “Precisely.” “You’re definitely are lighter on your feet than I am. I’ll get the samples while you eavesdrop.” “I planned on being the eavesdropper anyway, especially with your habit of always causing a scene,” you tease. You could practically sense his eye roll as he punched you playfully in the shoulder. “Alright, I’ll catch up with you soon.” “Stay safe, Red.” He sent a nod your way as the two of you exited the room in silence, going your separate ways once more. You followed the map until you were outside the room in which the meeting between Bane and Black Mask was supposedly being held. You looked around and found an air vent and wormed your way into the ventilation systems like before. You pulled up the computer on your hologlove, quickly hacking and disabling the motion and heat sensors. You smirked and crawled to where a vent was in the back corner of the room. You could hear the voices of Bane and another man speaking in Spanish. “That girl really did a number on your face, eh, Danny?” Bane said in his native tongue. “That bitch will pay, next time I go to Gotham I’ll hunt her down,” the voice of Danilo Carrera replied, tone full of spite. You held back a chuckle as you remember how you broke his nose. “You don’t even know her name,” Bane continued. “I wish I did…she asked a lot of questions. She was beautiful though, too bad she has a husband. God, the things I would do to her.” You scowled at his words, your face crunching up in disgust. “Focus, Mask is supposed to be here any minute now.” You silently pried open the vent and placed a small camera in the corner of the wall. You closed the vent and linked your hologlove to the camera. On the screen came a clear view of the room. You snickered internally as you saw Danny’s nose all taped up. A few minutes passed before Black Mask finally entered the room, two of his assistants following, a female and a male. “Gentlemen, it’s nice to finally be able to discuss things in person. Our last meeting was unfortunately interrupted, I apologize,” Black Mask stated as he took a seat at the table across from Bane and Danny. “Some bitch and her husband caused a scene,” Danny said in an annoyed tone. “Yes, my men are working on trying to track them down.” “If you find the girl, I want to get my revenge,” Danny mumbled. “That isn’t the objective here,” Bane hissed in Spanish. He turned back to Mask. “Ignore him, we came here to talk about business. Not some girl who happened to get a good punch on him.” “I completely understand his desire for revenge. If we find her, she is all yours.” Danny’s lip curled up into a sinister grin. “Anyways, back to business like you stated. You have shipments of your new Venom formula ready for Bludhaven, Gotham and Metropolis, correct?“ “Yes, the shipments should arrive by morning.” “Excellent. Once in Gotham my people can do a little experimenting with it with some of the drugs, chemicals and technology we have. If all goes smoothly, more supplies and things will be sent for you to make more, as long as I get fifty percent of the profit you make from this new formula.” “Fifty percent?!” “I think fifty percent is a sufficient cut for me, considering I’m now your number on supplier for things so you can make your Venom,” Mask said cunningly. Bane grit his teeth in annoyance, then took a deep breath. “You drive a hard bargain Señor,” Bane said, clearly annoyed. “You have a deal.” Mask smiled wickedly and the two shook hands. He opened his mouth to say something more when a huge rumble shook the building, almost knocking you over. Thankfully you didn’t, or you would’ve fallen through the loose vent. “What the hell was that?!” A man burst into the room and spoke in rapid Spanish, too fast for you to translate. Bane cursed as he heard whatever the man said. You pressed your finger to your comm. “Red, what’s your ETA to the storage room.” You question. “Busy. Can’t talk.” He grunted back, the sounds of fighting in the back ground. Shit. Jason must’ve caused that explosion and blew his cover. He really does enjoy causing a scene…although I was considering blowing up that shipment of Venom before it left for the States…perhaps he beat me to it. We need to get rid of the rest of it though. At least what they have already made would be destroyed until we need to analysis on it. You thought. You helplessly sat there, monitoring Jason’s location from your hologlove. Unable to do anything, for it would blow your cover as well, you tried thinking of ways to get out of here. You had gotten all the Intel you needed to confirm Mask’s and Danny’s relations with Bane, and you had gotten several files from them. You hoped, Jason got the samples. The door to the room slammed open and you saw through your camera, Jason being dragged in by three men, seven or eight others following. He was tied up with rope and was bleeding from several areas. He looked up at Bane from behind his red helmet and you could tell a sneer was on his face. “Ah. One of the Bats Birds, came to visit my island.” “Uh…sir…the shipment headed to leave tonight was destroyed..” one of the men said awkwardly. “What?!” Bane roared. The man when to repeat himself but Bane punched him in the gut, sending him to his knees. “You’ll pay for this Red Hood,” the Santa Priscan man snarled. Jason chuckled, wincing slightly. “Looks like your little drug plan got delayed. How unfortunate,” Jason said sarcastically. “Mr. Hood, you always seem to have a way of fucking things up!” Mask yelled slamming his hands on the table. Jason laughed again. “Oh, I know.” Mask walked over and kicked him in the head and stomach. He saw a large wound on his chest and knelt down, sticking his finger in it. Jason let out a small cry of pain. “These men can have a go at you, but once their done, my partner and I will make sure you aren’t here to fuck things up ever again.” Your eyes widened at this as your mind raced for a plan. Suddenly, an idea popped into your mind. You went to your hologlove and gained access to the systems again. You swiftly shut down the power in ths building and set it to come back on in about a minute. Lifting the vent silently, you began your plan as the lights went out. “What the hell?! What now?!” Mask said angrily. You grabbed your camera on the way down from your hiding place and ran over, starting to take down each of the men easily. Reminder to thank Bats for the teachings on the ‘Element of Surprise’ and the nightvision upgrades in my mask, you thought to yourself as you took out the last man. Bane and Mask stood in the dark, confused on what was going on. You had about twenty seconds before the lights came back on so you untied Jason and started to pull him along. “He is escaping!” Mask yelled. “Not off my island he isn’t!” You shoved Jason through the door and just as you were about to go, the lights flicked back on. You turned around and saw Bane with a small knife in his hand. Before you could process, he threw it and it stuck right in your shoulder. You let out a scream of pain, and Jason grabbed your hand, pulling you through the door way. The two of you ran, twisting and turning down hallways. “Are you okay?” You ask, panting because of the pain and adrenaline. “Just a scratch,” Jason replied, clearly lying. “You?” “Just a scratch,” you state with a smirk, gesturing to the knife in your shoulder as you reached over and yanked it out. “Looks like Bane is getting interested in toys that are a bit more lowkey,” you muttered as you put the small knife in your utility belt. “We need to get out of here.” “No shit Sherlock!” “No, we really need to get out here. Possibly within the next three minutes and…twenty five seconds.” Your eyes widen. “Did you do what I think you did?” “If what your thinking is ‘plant a bomb that destroys the rest of the new Venom except the ten vials I have in my utility belt,’ then yes.” You smirked again, letting out a laugh. “Funny, I was thinking of doing the same thing.” “Perfect. Batman isn’t gonna be happy when we get back, is he?” “Probably not. So much for strictly recon.” “We never listen to that rule anyway.” You looked behind Jason and yourself and saw men, and Bane running after you. More of them burst out of rooms, guns in hands and they started to shoot. “Things are getting hot in here (Y/H/N), any ideas on how the hell we are gonna get out of here?!” “Down this hall, make a left then a right. It was your entry point. From there we can run into the jungle and head to the motor boat,“ you state. “Slight problem. My entry point was destroyed.” “That’s our only option. Everywhere else we will for sure be cut off and put in the blast considering the rest of the Venom is near by where we need to exit.” You state as the two of you follow your directions. Garage number 3 was no longer there, just as he said. Flames were everywhere from the explosion and debris were mangled and jagged. You two continue to run, although slower because of your wounds and the fire. “We aren’t gonna make it past the blast zone in time (N/N)!” “Just keep running!” Fire and smoke swirled around you, bullets whizzing past your ears due to the terrible aim of Bane’s men (which you were thankful for.) You two made it to edge of the jungle before a searing hot force slammed you forward. Your body was flung and impacted the ground in a harsh manner. Rocks and sticks scraped you and your body screamed in pain. You looked around, everything was fuzzy and chaotic, your vision was blurry and you couldn’t find Jason. Screams of people could be heard behind you, though it was muffled due to the ringing in your ears. You stumbled and tried to get to your feet, but no avail. The blood loss was finally taking it’s toll and you collapsed on the ground. Looking up to the sky, the last thing you saw were the stars before darkness enveloped it’s blanket around you. - The last thing you expected to happen after this mission, was for you to wake up in a hospital bed in the Batcave. Although, you weren’t all that surpised, considering the events that took place. However, let’s just say, the light stung your eyes when you woke up and you were not happy about that. You cracked your eyes open and saw the white popcorn ceiling. You squinted and sat up, wincing slightly as you looked around. The heart monitor next you beeped and you looked down at your arm and saw an IV sticking out of it. Then it all came back to you. The mission. The explosion. The flames and the knife wound in your shoulder. Saw your uniform ripped and cut in certain places so you could be bandaged. You looked to your right and saw your beloved boyfriend asleep in a chair. Your eyes softened at his exhausted looking state. Behind him was a cloth curtain and you felt curiosity well up inside you. You bit your lip to prevent from wincing loudly as you slowly slipped out of the bed. Taking the IV with you, you looked at yourself in the mirror that was in the room. Your shoulder was bandaged up as well as your head. There was a bruise on your cheek and a few stitches under your right eye. That’s definitely gonna scar, you thought. You walked over to the curtain, peeked your head in, and saw Jason laying there. He was bandaged up as well, an IV in his arm too. He looked up from the book he was reading and his eyes filled with relief. “Thank God you’re awake. I was sure Golden Boy was gonna have a heart attack.” He said sitting up more. You took a seat on the chair beside his bed. “What the hell happened? How did we get here?” You questioned. “After the explosion, I, in my partially conscious state, was able to get the two of us to the motor boat and on to open water. I was able to send a distress signal to the Bat Computer and here we are,“ Jason explained. “Does this mean I owe you one?” You ask. “Maybe. But, I’m glad you’re alright. Dick almost had my head on a platter because the Alfred thought you might not make it…you were unconscious for four days.” “Damn…” You murmured. “Well, I’m okay. I’ll make sure he doesn’t try to kick your ass.“ The two of you exchange smiled before you walked back to your bed. You look at Dick, a soft smile going on your face as you brush a few stray hairs from his. You take the spare blanket from the foot of the bed and drape it over his shoulders. When Dick had gotten the call that you were seriously injured, he had been in your shared apartment in Bludhaven. The call made shivers run down his spine and he dashed into the bathroom to vomit. The thought of you possibly dying made him sick and all the stress and worry he had been feeling came crashing down on him. On the morning of the fifth day of your (lucky) recovery, he felt his heart jump into his throat when Alfred had came up to his room to tell him you were awake. The raven haired boy didn’t hesitate to make a run for the Batcave. And there you were, doing some basic yoga stretches as some light ‘training.’ Your shoulder hurt like a bitch, and your torso was all bruised and cut up, but you did what you could to get up and get your blood flowing. You never did like to sit around, even when not injured. He made his way down the stairs and you turned around, hearing his footsteps. Before you could open your mouth and say anything, he wrapped his arms around your frame and held you to his chest. His eyes filled with tears of relief, and he couldn’t help but let them fall. You felt him tremble as you hugged him back, his tears hit your neck and you felt pangs of guilt and empathy. You rubbed his back lovingly, and pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands. Wiping the tears from his cheeks, you gave him a warm smile. “I told you I would come back to you in one piece,” you stated. He let out a laugh and sob mixed together, his glossy blue eyes staring into your shimmering (e/c) orbs. “I love you,” he chokes out. “I love you too.” “I told you I had something to ask you once you came back.” “Yes, you did. What is it, my love?” You ask zealously. He took a deep breath, getting himself together. “I love you. I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. You are the most beautiful girl, in the whole world and I…I want to spend the rest of my life with you.“ He gets down on one knee and holds the glimmering ring out to you. Tears instantly fill your eyes as his continue to do so. ”(Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?“ A smile broke out on your face, one that was wider and brighter than the sun. “Yes! Always, yes!” ______ I apologize for the ending being so…eh. Ugh I’m sorry.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing one shot #nightwing imagine #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson one shot #dc #dc comics #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc oneshot #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics one shot

105 notes · View notes