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[drawingsanddrabbles]

Scandals Stick Together

ao3

Prompt: No Capes AU - First Kiss

Woo! I did it! All seven days, hell yeah!

~~~

Tim thinks that if the room was any more glittery he'd probably be having a seizure. He can't help but wonder if the many chandeliers in the room are real diamond. Bruce only uses crystal in his. 

Bruce's hand closes on Tim's shoulder and Tim's eyes flutter closed for a moment. He wishes Bruce's hand was his dad's. But his dad is in a coma, he reminds himself. It's not his fault that he can't be here to work Tim through his first professional gala. 

"Hey there, Timmy." Bruce says with a smile just as glittery as the rest of the room. "It's good to see you at one of these!"

"Bruce, good to see you too."

"Have you thought any further about my offer?" 

"To buy Drake Industries?" Or the other offer? Tim wonders. The one where he offered Tim to move in with him and Alfred. To work at Wayne Enterprises. To become Tim's legal guardian while his father is still in a coma.

Social workers are terrified to touch Tim's case, and as long as Tim keeps paying them to push it to the bottom of the pile they never will. But it's getting expensive. He can't push it off forever, and having Bruce Wayne as his legal guardian wouldn't be so bad. His other strays seemed to have done well--well, Dick anyway. 

Tim is losing hold on Drake Industries. Every since the plane crash stock has been going down. It's going to crash soon. News of the buyout could, frankly, make it go either way at this point. If Tim agrees he'll have nothing to lose.

But it's the last thing he has of his parents. Dad.... Dad's probably never going to wake up. 

"I told you, I have no interest in selling. I am going to bring Drake Industries out of the ground, you know I can." It's not totally a lie. Bruce does know how competent Tim is. He knows that Tim, if he dropped out of high school, got emancipated, and managed to convince his company that a fifteen year old CEO is a good idea, could do it. If he really tried. 

But Tim's tired. He's so tired. 

Bruce knows that Lois Lane is watching the two of them too closely for Tim's comfort. One word from her and his stock price plummets, and Tim can lose everything. 

Bruce's eyes slide to Clark Kent who sits next to her. He's only focused on Luthor--as always--so even if he did catch something they're saying he wouldn't care, or he'd be nice enough about it that he might actually tick DI up a few points in the stock market. 

Bruce lets out a big belly laugh (one that Tim can tell is fake) and slaps Tim on the shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt. 

"Well, you know, if you ever need anything, Kid. Come straight to me." He says with an easy smile and he ruffles Tim's (meticulously gelled) hair. But Tim takes that for exactly what he knows Bruce means. They'll talk about this later. Bruce walks backwards away from him with a wave. "Let's do lunch!"

"Yeah," Tim mumbles, a little pink from the way people are now staring at him, "let's." 

Bruce goes off to flirt with Lois and (probably, from the way Mr. Kansas City has turned bright red) Clark, which leaves Tim some reprieve from endless questions about his future for the company. Tim's hair is now sticking up in a non-artful way so he narrowly dodges old white rich folks and their perfectly made up children as he weaves his way to the bathroom.

He's not the only one fixing his hair it seems, as two other men are as well. One is a boy a little older than him and (presumably) his father. Both of whom are trying to hide that they are watching Tim out of the corners of their eyes. 

As Tim turns his back on them to leave (although he can clearly see them in the reflection on the shiny eco-friendly heat dryer) the father leans over to his son and whispers: "That's Tim Drake. He's acting chair of his company and he's going to lose it to that Wayne idiot in a few weeks. Read it in Forbes."

Tim ignores the way his cheeks turn red and rushes out of there as fast as he can. 

Tim hates the way people look at him now. Ives feels sorry for him, but that's because Ives actually cares about him. The fake way these people do, makes him want to snatch a champagne flute from one of the servers and down it. But really the last thing he needs is to get drunk or tipsy, to say the wrong word in a room filled with piranhas who have diamond teeth and lose everything before he ever gets a chance to earn it back. 

Mrs. Powers corners him (old Gotham money, he tells himself) and starts with condolences (as they always do) before moving onto the obligatory "How's your father doing?" ("Well! Doctors just want him to stay a little more for observation but he'll be up and about in no time!" He says,) then to "do you need anything, darling?" ("Fuck you too Mrs. Powers," he doesn't say). 

Tim doesn't know when exactly he gets surrounded by old rich women, but suddenly they're engulfing him. None of them squeeze his cheeks like they used to, or pat his head, or try to straighten his tie (he hopes that one's because it's still straight but he knows that's probably not the case). Instead they keep distance from him. He's no longer a child of a rival but the rival himself (the floundering rival, perhaps). They're not treating him as an equal so much as something diseased to excise. 

He misses the days when he could just blend in next to his father's side or, at least, hang out with the other rich kids. Wow them with his knowledge (and the thrill) of living in Gotham. 

Tim passes the drink counter (under which he's positive Winston Price the Third and Jennifer Wallaby are making out, because last gala, when he was one of them, Winston had told him he planned to do just that next time he saw her) and orders a soder despite what he really wants. The waiter laughs at him but cuts it out with a glare from Tim and gets him what he ordered. 

He wishes that Luthor would just get on with the dinner part of the night. He was too nervous to eat all day and now he's starving. Also, prearranged seating means people will stop coming up to him to show him they care. 

"Tim Drake, I am shocked to see you here," speak of the devil... "shouldn't you be caring for your father?" 

Luthor knows. Luthor has always known, just as Tim has. His father isn't waking up, no matter what Tim manages to fool the rest of the world into thinking. 

Lex Luthor smirks and Tim turns around. He plasters what he hopes is a Bruce Wayne brand smile on his face. "Mr. Luthor!" He covers his eyes and squints, as if the sun is blinding him. "Good to see you!"

Luthor frowns slightly. "Are... you feeling alright, Mr. Drake?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's just," Tim lowers his voice and leans closer to Luthor as if he is telling a secret, "with all these lights, your head is just blinding me." Luthor's lips turn into a pale line. "Really, I think you might want to see a doctor about your perspiration, it's so.... shiny. I'm sure my father's doctor would love to offer some... discreet suggestions."

The snicker behind Luthor almost makes Tim drop his hand. Luthor whips around. Ah yes, and there is the boy that made Tim's takeover of DI old news. 

Conner Luthor. Appeared, as if from nowhere, just after everything from Haiti was settled. The de facto heir to Lex Luthor. Being trained to succeed him, but who's training wasn't even close to succeeding. 

Partier, playboy, and very hot. Luthor's polar opposite. Also, the same age as Tim. 

"Conner, maybe you should carry this conversation with Tim, after all you two have more in common than I do with him." A dig at his youth, lovely.

But before Tim can bite anything back, Conner says in a flippant way: "Well, beauty before age. Isn't that the saying?"

So the rumors are true, they don't seem to be able to stand each other. 

Careful, Tim, he warns himself, cute boys with sparkling smiles might be more than they appear. 

"Lex! How wonderful to see you!" A familiar voice hums behind Luthor, snapping the tension building. The singsong voice can only be Bruce. 

Tim wonders if Bruce has been watching him. Tim doesn't need his help. He doesn't want his help. He just wants to go home. 

Luthor grimaces at Bruce. "Wayne."

"Say, is this your son?" Bruce asks, turning his attention on Conner. He sticks out a hand. "Good to meet you, chum!" Bruce flashes a grin at Lex, "And they call me a playboy. Wow, she must have been a looker, huh, Lex?"

Luthor looks as though he might combust. Conner doesn't take the bait or the hand (he's been famously tight-lipped about his other parent and life before he took on the Luthor name). Conner glares at Bruce. Tim notices that Luthor hasn't convinced him to get rid of the earring for tonight (one more scandal to add to the Conner Luthor package) and wishes he hadn't. He doesn't have time to notice these things. He has to network. To try and dig himself back into a good light for the sake of his company. 

But Bruce, in his blundering and self-focused way, has managed to give Tim a way to slip out of this interaction. All eyes are on Bruce. 

Tim used to have a theory that Bruce was smarter than he appeared. His father had told him that was stupid. Sometimes, Tim thought he was right, but ever since he'd gotten to know Bruce he'd understood his mistake. So he gratefully takes the exit Bruce offers. 

He can't hide, but he wants to. He really wants to.

Thankfully, though it seems that it's time for the dinner part of the gala to begin and everyone and their drinks are ushered into the next room. 

Tim is seated at table nineteen with eight other people who only represent five different companies. Tim sits next to the daughter of a mogul on his left and the son of a different one on his right and it's clear to everyone that the artful Mr. Timothy Drake (Drake Industries) on his place card is just a courtesy. Everyone knows where he really belongs. 

Luthor stands and begins his speech which Tim tries really hard to listen to but gets bored. He knows the gist of it, new tech, bringing Metropolis into the future, thank you for coming, etc etc etc. 

Tim's eyes travel to Conner's seat at table number one, and finds that he's not there. Of course not, probably ditching. 

Tim wishes he could ditch. He knows that the teens on either side of him will find one of their go-to excuses after a respectable amount of dinner and go up to one of the balconies or the roof to drink and smoke and play spin the bottle and other things their parents wouldn't approve of, before making their way back down by dessert and leaving completely respectably, none of the parents the wiser. Tim knows this because Tim used to do just that. 

Despite that Tim hasn't eaten all day his salad just doesn't look that appetizing anymore. 

"So, Timothy, I'm so sorry to hear about your parents. Who are you staying with?" The old lady across from him asks. The speech has ended and everyone has begun their first course. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks. None of his family members wanted him. 

"Myself. I have an attorney for general legal issues but I can live on my own until my father can come home."

"What a smart young lad you are!" The father of the girl on his right says. 

"And so well organized too! I can't imagine my Peter running my company at his age." The father of the boy on his left says. The kid himself looks like he would give anything not to be there right then, Tim agrees. 

"Well, I just worry. It's so difficult to be a deciding factor in a company's decisions and for one so young-why, it must bore you to death!"

Don't tell them anything they can use, Tim reminds himself, lie. 

"Really, it's a piece of cake."

"Well then!" The other adults (read: vultures) around the table seem delighted. 

"Well he may not be bored," one of the younger people at the table says, he's the head of some start-up or another, "but I'm sure we don't want to bore the other kids with this table talk. How is your dog, Miranda? I heard she was sick?" And from there the conversation, thankfully, is led away from the topic of Tim and Drake Industries. The girl next to Tim begins going on about how her teacup poodle has cancer or something and Tim fazes out again. 

Just after the soup course is served Miranda explains to her father that she's having some "lady problems" and might be a while. At the end of it Peter tells his father that he thinks he sees Conner Luthor over by that way, would it be alright if he says hi? (Tim glances over, and Conner isn't there). He's excused as well with a chortling: "Already networking! What an entrepreneurial spirit, that one!" 

By the meat course Tim is losing his mind. The Start-Up Guy tries valiantly to steer the conversation away from Tim's parents but eventually even he is overwhelmed by rich old people and Tim has to repeat the same lies he's been saying for days now. 

It's only once Miranda's father says that Tim might have been a good match for her, if only he were a little older that Tim decides to excuse himself with a 'phone call' from work. Something these people will understand. 

Tim makes it all the way out of the ballroom, and then he decides to push his luck and go looking for some people his own age. 

Since breaking down in a bathroom isn't an option (old rich people use bathrooms too), Tim decides that he might be able to find himself a secluded area where the kids are. 

It's not hard to find them. They're in a much smaller ballroom on the second floor of the Luthor Concert Hall. There's a balcony, Tim knows, he's been here before. 

Rock music blares and can be felt outside the room. Tim used to think that them playing music that loudly was a challenge to their parents: catch us. But now Tim understands it for what it is, just loud music. 

Tim opens the door and a son of an African CEO hands him a joint. Tim wants to, but like so many things lately, he can't. He can't risk it. 

The kid just shrugs, and lights it himself. 

The room smells like smoke: all sorts. Tim spies some beers some of them smuggled in, and some wines from the receiving hall downstairs. His eyes snag on the champagne, but it's the cognac that he really wants. 

"Traitor." Someone says to his left. He turns. It's Joseph. His dad is COO for Maxie Zeus. It's good natured, Tim knows, because Joseph is smiling. "I thought we weren't going to turn into our parents." 

"Didn't have much of a choice."

"Bullshit." Lucy says from Joseph's side. "Let them go belly up and cash out."

"My Dad's going to pick the company back up in a bit." This is the last thing Tim wants, he came up here to stop talking about DI. People are starting to watch him. He can see Conner eating Miranda's face in the corner of the room. 

"How'd you even swing it anyway?" Ha Joon asks. 

"Yeah, aren't social services up your ass?"

"Guys, leave him alone." He hears Tam Fox say. She's always had his back. 

"What happens in Gotham stays in Gotham." Preston snipes. 

"Be nice!" Lucy says. 

"What about school?" Peter asks. 

There's enough of a lull in the interrogation that Tim answers with a shrug and scuffs his shoe against the tile floor. "I'm dropping out." This causes more of an uproar than anything else. 

"No way!"

"God, my Mom would kill me if I dropped out."

"Kill you? My Dad would disown me!"

"Only disown? Wow, your parents are uncreative. There's more than one way to skin a kid that's for fucking sure."

It doesn't occur to any of them that Tim wouldn't have to drop out if his father really was doing okay. 

"Seriously?" Tam asks. Clearly Lucius hadn't told her. Because Tim had told Bruce and there was no way that Bruce hadn't told Lucius. 

"Yeah, seriously." Tim says. 

"What's the big deal? I dropped out." Conner Luthor says with a shrug and all eyes turn towards him. 

"Did you really?" Lucy asks. 

"I mean, I basically did. I never go anyway."

"Ah, young grasshopper. We all don't go to school. But it takes some special cajones to drop out." Vido says. 

"What's the difference?" Conner asks. 

"See, don't go to school and your Dad just pays the administration office to keep it quiet. Drop out and he pays the reporters to keep it out of the newspapers." Preston tells him. 

Conner cocks a wicked eyebrow. "And if he pays both?" 

Everyone listening shakes with laughter. "Then you must have done something really bad," Lucy says, eyes traveling up and down Conner as if only now sizing him up. Conner languishes in the attention from her and Miranda who is staring at him like he's a god. Conner winks at Lucy and Tim feels a little sick. The smoke swirls around Tim's head, making it swim.

“What about that girl of yours? What was her name… Ariana?” Peter asks. “Did you ever get that first kiss?” 

“My parents were held hostage and my mom died.” Tim says more harshly than he means to. He needs some fresh air. 

Tim heads to the balcony but before he gets there Tam grabs his arm. "Hey, how are you really doing? Really?"

Tim grimaces. "What happens in Gotham stays in Gotham, right?"

Tam looks disappointed but she doesn't push and Tim opens the balcony doors. 

The night is cool which is good against his burning cheeks. He wants to rip off the monkey suit. The tie itches and the gel is making his hair feel greasy and his feet hurt and he's still a little hungry. All these little things are coming up and bashing him in the face now. 

"You really from Gotham?" Conner Luthor asks from behind him, making Tim jump. 

"Yeah." He says. 

"Rad." He says which makes Tim laugh even though it shouldn't. Conner grins at him. "So, a kid CEO, huh? Didn't know that was possible."

"It's not. Not really. But I'm trying." (And failing, he doesn't say. Again, it doesn't seem to occur to Conner that it wouldn't matter whether he fails or not, if his father is coming back.) 

"No one's given you shit about being bisexual?" Conner asks. 

"What? I'm not-"

"Oh. Sorry, I just assumed since they said about that Ariana chick and the way you look at me so-"

"I don't-Not you-!"

Conner snorts. "Please, I'm scandalous, not blind."

Tim shuts his mouth abruptly. "What do you want?" Tim asks in a low voice. Conner must be spying on him, there's no way Lex would give up this information. 

"Nothing!" Conner frowns. "Why should I want anything?"

So that was how he wanted to play it. Tim frowns. "I should probably head back down-" He says but when he turns around to go back into the room he finds the balcony door is locked. 

Tim tries not to cry. This can't be happening. It can't- He has to be able to get back down to the party, he-! 

"Locked out?" Conner asks. 

Tim leans his forehead on the door. He wants to die. 

Conner leans over him and bangs on the door but the music is loud enough that no one hears him. 

Conner scowls. "Well I guess now you're stuck out here with me."

"I'm screwed." Tim says in disbelief. They'll be locked out here forever, and even if they aren't it doesn't matter. Coming up here in the first place was a stupid thing to do. Ten more minutes is enough to ruin whatever reputation he has left downstairs. 

Maybe he should just accept Bruce's offer. Whatever he'll get for Drake Industries will be more than whatever it's worth. 

Tim feels tears leak from his eyes. He rubs at them angrily. He's going to lose everything. Every part of his parents, of his Dad.... Mom... 

"Hey, it's not so bad! I promise! I'm less annoying than I seem at first impression!" Conner says hastily. Tim wipes at his face but he's sobbing now. 

"I-It's not you. It's not-It's not- I'm not-" but he can't say anything without the words coming out as a garbled mess. 

Conner, confused and worried, tries to comfort him by putting a hand on his back. Tim pushes him away. "Hey, it's okay." Conner says. He pulls Tim into a hug anyway. 

"I'm going to lose everything." Tim tells him, words spilling out of his mouth. He'll accept Bruce's offer tonight. The paperwork will be done before they get home to Gotham and it won't matter what Conner tells Luthor because it'll already be done. "My company... everything my parents worked so hard for... it's going to be gone. I'm going to lose the last of them."

"But... I thought your father was getting better..." Conner says. Then he realizes what Tim's been hiding. "He's not getting better, is he?" 

Tim shakes his head. His shoulders tremble. Conner holds him tight and he cries into Conner's shirt--soaking it. 

Tim tells him everything. From Bruce's offer for the company to his offer of fatherhood. Conner listens silently, rubbing Tim's back and nodding. When Tim finally calms down, Conner presses his lips to the top of Tim's head. The kiss so fleeting Tim wonders if he imagined it. "You're going to be okay. You at least have Bruce Wayne, don't you? And don't lose hope, stranger things have happened. Your father could wake up."

"And if he does, I'll have sold his company away, don't think that he'll be happy about that." 

"He'll be happy enough that he's alive and so are you."

You don't know my father, Tim wants to tell him. But he doesn't. 

Conner wipes his thumb across Tim's tear-streaked face. "I don't even know why I told you all of that."

"I've got a listener's face." He says.

Tim snorts. "Yes, exactly. That's what everyone says about you. Lex's infamously obedient child."

Conner winks. "Only for cute boys. Lex can screw himself." 

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Really?" The mysterious boy, who came from nowhere, heir to a fortune and company whose CEO he looked nothing like. Tim likes mysteries. Always did. 

And then there was the cute boy comment. Tim tries not to think about that one too hard. 

"Isn't that what the tabloids say?" Conner asks. He spreads his hands out in a half-shrug. 

"Guess I never really believed they really knew anything about you. Not that they really know anything about you."

"I'm a man of mystery." Conner shrugs uncomfortably.

"Clearly." Tim raises an eyebrow. "Come on, tell me something about yourself. Anything. I told you my entire life story."

"Uh uh. That's my business to keep." Conner says shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. Tim sighs, but supposes that is his right.

Of course, without DI on his plate he can go back to his amatur conspiracy theorist detective work. Maybe he'll figure it out on his own. 

Tim sizes Conner up. Yeah, he can figure it out.  Conner's a teenager, and he exists which means he had to come from somewhere. He wasn't just born fifteen. Made in some lab. 

"Yeah," Tim agrees though, "that's fair."

Conner nods. There's a knock on the door and both boys jump as Tam pokes her head out. 

"Tim? Dad's says you better get back downstairs, Mr. Lord is saying some pretty nasty things about your father and Bruce is doing what he can but-"

"Thanks, Tam. I'll head down now." Tim tells her. 

She looks from him to Conner suspiciously. "Gothamites stick together," is her veiled response, her glare at Conner showing what she really wants to say. 

She leans back into the room and Tim just barely catches the door before it locks the two of them out again. 

"Wow. Tell us how you really feel." Conner grumbles at her back. 

Tim turns back to Conner. "Thanks. For... not being weirded out by me sobbing into your silk shirt." (Which is now ruined by the way, he doesn't say.)

"Hey, scandals stick together, right?" Conner offers with a quick grin. 

Tim smiles back and turns to leave when Conner grabs him by the hand. "Hey, wait-!"

Tim turns just as Conner bends down to kiss his lips gently. Tim is too stunned to react as Conner pushes past him into the room. His first kiss and it’s with a Luthor. "Text me next time you want to vent. Listening face." He says, pointing to said face to emphasize his point. "Wayne's got my number. I think." Then he disappears into the party. 

Tim watches him go, shocked. He's standing there so long, mouth open, that Luke walks past him at some point and he says: "I thought Tam told you what Dad said? You going back downstairs?" 

Which restarts Tim and he rushes downstairs, cheeks pink. 

~~~

"Well?" Lex asks as he and Conner sit in the limo back to the penthouse. "Learn anything useful from that Drake boy?"

Conner stares out the black tinted windows, watching as the streetlights zoom past and trying not to think about how Tim's lips had felt pressed against his. "Not a thing. Didn't even show up to the kid party like you said he would." 

Lex narrows his eyes at his son. "I see." 

Conner just shrugs. "Better luck next time."

[drawingsanddrabbles]

To Hell and Back (Wait for Me)

Prompt: Mythology - Under Cover

So this one is a multichapter fic that I actually haven't finished yet... but I have the first bit done so that's what I'm posting right now.

Also the story of Eurydice and Orpheus is such a timkon story and while I could (and would have) done eurydice!kon and orpheus!tim but this also had the 'under cover' aspect so that's why it's switched.

Also, heavily inspired by Hadestown by Anais Mitchell

ao3 (i wont be posting more than the prologue on tumblr, so if you want to read chapter two, go to the ao3 link) HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING FOR THE REST OF THE STORY. I CANNOT EXPRESS THIS ENOUGH. 

Prologue: Cyclamen

~~~

Tim stared at his outfit. It wasn’t a bad one to die in. A band shirt and sweatpants. They were clothes Tim actually liked to wear. Clothes that were him. What Tim wore--what his new persona wore, Eurydice--wasn’t. The tight pants, and the tank top. The bracelets which wound up his bare arms and the piercings: one on his lip, one in his eyebrow, and a third in his septum. 

Hades wanted young men in revealing outfits, Bruce had told him. He didn’t have to do this. It was a dangerous job to infiltrate a dangerous gang of whom even Babs couldn’t find anything more than a base location and a victim profile. High risk young people. 

He was called Hades. He ran a gang, doing loans and numbers and bets for an entire district of Midway. He had a club as a base of operations called The Underground. That was all they knew. 

For all they knew, Tim might not come back. But what they did know for sure was that other people weren’t coming back. Tim was willing to take that risk.

“You can’t tell anyone. We don’t want to give them false hope.” Bruce had told him. 

He didn’t tell Tim to say goodbye, but Tim did anyway, in his own way. He had a movie night at the Tower, invited old Young Justice members. They fell asleep in a giant cuddle puddle. They were happy. Tim was content.

Tim readied the gun. 

He’d just need to get the information--any information--and get out. He would have three check-ins to make sure he was doing alright. 

Code word: pomegranate. 

Say goodbye Tim. He told himself. The gun went off. The shot echoed around the room and Tim Drake died. Eurydice was born.

[drawingsanddrabbles]

The Things That Bind Us

Prompt: Historical AU - Soulmates

Pirates/Privateers are historical right? *youtuber voice* Anyway tell me in the comments down below if I nailed it or failed it!

ao3

~~~

As the ship came into view Dick said: "Remember why we're here, keeping Lois Lane alive is what will get us paid." 

The reminder was more for Steph and Tim than anyone else. Cass and Dick had too much control to accidentally kill someone. 

Cass shifted their course slightly, so that they'd pass right by the Soledad on the waves. To an average observer it would just look like they miscalculated their course slightly. To the Soledad it would look like they miscalculated their course slightly. Of course, they didn't. Babs couldn’t miscalculate anything. But it will be a good enough excuse for them to get close, and then from their ship it would be just a run and a jump away from the Soledad, and the raid will be over before they know it. 

With his spyglass Tim could see Lois at the front of the ship. Next to her stood a man with black hair and colorful clothes of blue and red. His face was away from the spyglass but Tim knew him for who he was, Zod. Just like Bruce said. 

They'd gotten the mayday call from Lois a few weeks ago. She had been sure that Zod had figured out that she was a spy for England, and would soon be taking her out to die “accidentally” at sea. Her informant would be with her, she claimed, and even if he didn’t drown with her he was bound not to be safe. 

So, Dick was called to action the moment he'd docked in London. 

It wasn't that Tim minded being hired by the crown, money was money after all, but all these rules... No killing, saving damsels in distress... it was annoying. He kind of missed the good old days of just the sea and his crew, going wherever they wanted, no one to answer to. 

But Dick kept them safe. Dick kept them fed. And money, after all, was money. 

Tim readied himself as they drew closer to the Soledad. His hand tightened on the rope he held. When they got the cue from Lonnie up in the bird's nest, they'd swing over. 

Cass stood next to him. She didn't need a rope to swing over. She'd just take a running leap off the gangplank and land on the other side, just like she always did. Tim was jealous of her for that (well, more than just that). He still had to work on his skills every day, how to swing, how to fight, how to shoot. She even had better aim with the cannons than he did, which was hard since no one had good aim with cannons. 

"Something's wrong..." Cass muttered as she watched them draw closer to the Soledad. 

"What do you mean? Babs did the calc-"

"Not with the course. With the ship." Cass said. Her eyes narrowed. 

Now Tim could see the crew of the other ship. And he studied them, looking for whatever it was that Cass saw. They seemed friendly enough for Spaniards. Some even waved as they drew closer. Tim waved back. 

"Do they look familiar to you?" Tim asked. 

Cass' eyes flickered back and forth between the crew members. 

Her eyes widened as they settled on a member. "Badaxe." She said. 

"Ravers." Tim's heartbeat upticked. "RAVERS!" He and Cass were already in motion, just making it across the gap between their ships.

Dick blew his whistle and the rest of the Batmen are already readying themselves for battle. So much for a simple job, Tim thought bitterly as he dropped to the other ship. Sparx turned around, her knives are already out, but so are Tim's. And Tim is better than she is. But why was Zod working with Ravers? The Spaniard military hated privateers. Unless...

"AMBUSH!" Cruz shouted as he dives out of the way of Cass'. "BATMEN! READY THE CANNONS!" Which Tim knew would only hurt him if they tried to fire. The debris at this distance would damage their own ship.

Tim ignored Dick's no killing rule and went for Sparx's heart, missing when he saw something flicker behind him. He turned right in time to catch the corner of a gun and yank it aside. It went off. The recoil shocked Tim up to the elbow, making him drop his knife. He managed to duck just in time as Sparx's knives went over his head. 

He rolled away and up, his sword in his hand, now facing Sparx and... Just as he thought. Tim grimaced. 

It hadn't been Zod he'd seen on the helm of the boat with Lois at all. It was Kon. 

The Super Boy. 

"Robin. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Kon asked in Spanish, not knowing that Tim spoke it. 

Awesome. Just what Tim wanted. Easy, huh? 

Sparx attacked first. Tim parried her blow and twisted out of the way of Kon's rapier. He'd thrown his musket away after it's shot. They tended to be more or less useless in a real fight, taking forever to reload. Too bad Kon had missed. 

Alone, Tim probably could have taken Sparx easily. But with the Super Boy at her back Tim might just have been out of his league. 

But Cass wasn't. Sparx, distracted by Tim and Kon, didn't notice her come up from behind. She took out Sparx with a single blow to the head, already having disabled Cruz. Kon lashed at her and dodged Tim's attack. He caught her metal arm-guards and Cass backed away. 

"Get Lois!" Tim told her. "I can handle him."

Cass nodded and dashed off. 

Tim had never fought Super Boy up close before. All the times before they'd just missed one another, one way or another. Kon's reputation preceded him. 

Super Boy lunged and Tim parried. Kon was stronger than he was but Tim was faster. Tim laid off the parry and ducked as Kon's sword swung over his head, instead kicking at Kon's legs. Get him on the ground, Tim reminded himself. Use your bodyweight to your advantage. 

Kon stumbled backward but didn't fall. Tim's rapier grazed up Kon's leg. He mostly got Kon's baggy pants, but from the way Kon shouted and hopped back, there must have been some skin in there. 

"Bastard." Kon snarled at him as he lunged. 

Tim knocked aside his blade, cutting a line across his glove. Kon's fingers flexed in pain and dropped his sword. 

"I speak Spanish." He informed Kon smugly.

Kon growled and threw aside his gloves, blood dripped from his hand onto the deck. A dangerous action: opening himself up to accidental touch. Not that it would matter much longer, if Tim killed Kon there would be no way the Super Boy would find a soulmate. Not that Tim believed in soulmates of course, playwright nonsense if you asked him.

Kon dove at Tim. He knocked Tim’s sword out of his own gloved hands. He grabbed Tim by the shoulders and the two of them went down onto the deck. Tim kneed him in the privates sharply and rammed his elbow into the side of Kon's ear, using that leverage to roll them over. He sent a punch to Kon's face as Kon sent one back into Tim's chest. 

It was hard enough that Tim stumbled back, heaving in air. Tim understood why they called him the Super Boy, strength like that shouldn't have been possible. Tim wheezed. Kon scrambled to his feet. 

Tim's dodged another punch from Kon, looking for something, anything, he could use as a weapon. He noticed Sparx's knives on the ground and he stumbled as he grabbed them. 

Kon swore. 

He backed up and stopped as he pressed up against the railing on the ship. 

Tim grinned. He began advancing, watching as Kon looked frantically around. He could run, but Tim was faster and he knew that. He could jump, but the chances of surviving a jump into unknown waters weren't large. Especially when bleeding. 

"Wait!" The word cut through the air. Lois. "Don't kill him!"

Tim turned to her. She stood with Dick. Cass, Steph, and Lonnie were finishing up tying up the rest of the Ravers. 

At that moment Kon tackled Tim, trying to wrench one of the knives from his hands. 

"Get off of me!"

"Stop! They work for the Crown!" She shouted to him in Spanish as Tim tried to stick him. 

Kon froze. He rose and stumbled backwards, hands still balled into fists. "The English Crown? The Batmen are also privateers?" 

Lois came sprinting down to them, panting as she did. 

She put a restraining hand on Tim's shoulder. "He's the informant." She told him. 

Tim's eyes widened. "Are you serious? The Super Boy is your informant?" A traitor to the Spanish crown? But he'd worked for the Spaniards for years! How could Lois have possibly-

"The Batmen are your contacts?" Kon snarled at her, flinging an accusatory finger at Tim. "Robin?"

"Hey, I'm not happy about it either buddy." Tim snapped. But Lois didn't say anything, her eyes were caught on Kon. Her mouth hung open. 

"Kon... your hand..." She whispered. Tim's eyes flickered to Kon's hand. At first Tim had dismissed the flash of red he'd seen, but no, he realized. Tim had nicked the backside of Kon's hand. The red which spread across his finger was on the palmside. Kon looked down at it and swore. His palm was covered in a deep red color. 

But... if Kon was surprised by the color then... it must have been new? But-

Tim looked down, moving aside his shirt where Kon had grabbed him. There, on the collarbone were four spots of coloring, black as coal. Fingertips and a palm. He immediately covered it with a hand, as if he could keep it hidden from sight. 

Tim didn't believe in soulmates. Fairy talk. Of course he wore the same protections as everyone else despite the heat of the sea: long sleeved clothes, gloves, and high knee boots. Everything to keep himself safe, just in case. 

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Tim said. 

"What's going on down there?" Dick shouted. Tim jumped, he'd forgotten where he was.

"Nothing!" Tim responded. "Nothing! Let's get out of he-"

"BLESS! TIM! IS THAT A SOULMARK?" Steph shouted from beside him, hand over her mouth. 

Tim turned bright red. Almost as red as the color that stained Kon's hand. Kon's eyes lingered on Tim's collarbone. "Is that...?"

"No." Tim snapped at him. There was no way Tim's soulmate--if they did exist--could be a Spaniard. Much less a traitor. He turned his back to Kon. 

"Come on," he said to Lois, "let's get you back to the Queen."

"He's coming too."

"If he has to." Tim said with the most noncommittal shrug he could manage. He readjusted his shirt so that it covered the dark mark. 

He bent down to pick up as many weapons as he could manage for the armory on board the Redbird. 

With Cass' help, Bette rolled out the bridge from the Redbird.

Steph ran down to Tim, grabbing at his neck. "Let me see it!"

"No! Get off, Spoiler!" 

Steph rolled her eyes and glanced at Lois and Kon who were talking softly in Spanish. Probably Lois explaining what would happen now. This wasn't the first time that Bruce had needed to send in the Batmen to get Lois and any informants she'd had out of trouble she'd gotten herself into. 

"I think your soulmate can hear my real name." Steph said. 

"He's not my soulmate."

"The universe seems to disagree. How romantic! Just like in a tragedy-"

"Oh, yeah. That's exactly what I want my life to be like. Just sit me on stage in the Globe, why don't you."

"Keep being a bitch and when we get back I'll go right to Shakespeare himself. Now, let me see it-!"

"Keep your voice down!" Tim hissed, glancing nervously back at Kon. 

"So... the Super Boy, huh?" Dick asked as he walked over. 

"What's the hold up?" Bette shouted from the Redbird. "Everyone on board!"

"Shut up." Tim told Dick as he tried to move Tim's collar to get a good look at the mark. 

"Hey, at least he's working for the Crown-"

"He's a traitor. And a Spaniard at that. He's untrustworthy."

Dick shrugged. "Lord Kent vouches for him."

Tim glared at Dick. "You knew he was the informant and didn't deign to tell us?" It was such a thing that Bruce would do that Tim was shocked. 

Dick looked offended. "I didn't know! Lois just told me!"

Tim still scowled. "Well, maybe she should have told us-"

"What's it matter? You didn't kill him and it all worked out, right?" Dick asked as he headed across the rope bridge.

Tim was tempted to shake it just to make him drop into the water. He didn't. But he was tempted.

Tim climbed over after him. Kon went next. Then Lois. Then Cass. Bette reeled it in after they'd all climbed over and waved to Azrael to lift the anchor. 

Dick pulled Lois aside to talk to her about something and Cass eyed Kon appreciatively before telling Tim: "Not a bad man to have."

Tim scowled at her, readjusting his shirt again. "I'm not his soulmate."

Cass raised an eyebrow and patted Tim's back. "Okay." She said. Then she pulled Steph aside to stop her from ambushing Tim again. 

Kon tapped him on the shoulder with his red finger. Tim jumped, turning around. "Is... is this really-?" He asked, showing his spotted red palm to Tim, his eyes on Tim's shoulder. 

Tim clenched his hand to stop himself from scratching at the mark which had become unbearably itchy since being at the center of so much attention. 

"No." Tim interrupted. "It's just a smudge of grease from cleaning. It's not actually a mark." 

He turned to leave, and so that Kon couldn't see his burning cheeks. Kon grabbed his wrist, pulling him back to face him. 

He was so close. Tim could see the small, faint scar across his cheekbone from some long ago battle. His bronzed skin warm to the touch. His black hair fluttered in the wind and his blue eyes sparkled more than the sea. 

Tim felt like he had when Kon had punched him in the chest--unable to breathe. 

His still-gloved hand tightened around Tim's wrist. Kon raised his mark one to Tim's collar. Tim couldn't pull away, he felt bewitched. Maybe this was like one of Shakespeare's plays. There was a reason that sailors were so superstitious. Even Tim could agree that omens existed. The sea was too bitter to not believe them. 

But Kon's eyes weren't bitter. They were full of light. 

Spaniards, he thought dumbly, too pretty for their own good. 

Kon's marked fingers brushed aside Tim's shirt, showing the three fingerprints and palmprint seared there. He pressed his fingers against the prints. Tim couldn't help but notice that they matched perfectly.

"Grease." Kon repeated hollowly. His blue eyes flickered back to Tim's own. 

Tim couldn't breathe again. A realization struck him. "I love you." The words were whispered. Barely even said. But Kon had to have heard them with how close he was. Tim was immediately glad he hadn't said them in Spanish. "Yeah, grease." 

It was a stupid response, really, because it was clearly not true. Tim pulled away from Kon slowly, his fingers dropped from Tim's collarbone. It felt like ripping away a part of himself. Tim could see Kon look down at his fingers, completely free of any grease that would have rubbed off on them. Kon pressed the red fingertips to his lips, and looked back up at Tim. 

Tim's heart did something funny in his chest. 

Kon's grip tightened once again on Tim's wrist. He pulled him back in and kissed Tim hard. His marked hand catching Tim against the back of his neck. Tim couldn't pull away, not that he wanted to with Kon's warm lips on his. 

Kon broke the kiss, leaving Tim heaving for air. His gloved hand finally letting go of Tim's wrist. Kon's pupils were so dilated that their beautiful sea blue were almost gone. 

He didn't seem nearly as affected as Tim, but he was in no way unaffected, Tim was happy to see. 

As Tim tried to catch his breath (tried to prevent himself from hurling himself at Kon and kissing him again) his eyes met Kon's again. 

All Kon said after that was: "I speak English."

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Two Bros, Sitting in the Candlelight

Happy timkon week! So today was free day and I can’t make desicions to save my life, so I had @timdrakeothy help me pick prompts. So today’s prompts were picked from the extra prompts on @timkonweek2019‘s page: Wingfic and Romantic Dinner

ao3

betaed by @breadmould/Tanya on discord (sorry if you have a tumblr and I didn’t link it it wasn’t in your discord description)

~~~

To say Tim was uncomfortable would be an understatement. However, it was really unfortunate that he was, because Jordan was a really nice girl. She was pretty and sweet and funny. 

But Tim was moulting, and he couldn't stand the itch anymore. 

"'Scuse me, Jordan. I'll be right back, just need to powder my nose." He said and hurried to the bathroom. 

Tim made it to the bathroom but unfortunately wasn't able to lock the door. People, there were people everywhere. People who were rich and therefore, knew who he was and God that itching on his back hurt, he wanted to just rub his back up and down on one of the fancily textured walls until his old feathers came out. But he couldn't. He had Tim Drake's reputation to consider. 

He'd planned this date with Jordan before he'd been in a battle with Klarion where the asshole had cursed him to grow wings. He'd already cancelled on Jordan more than once due to hero things, so he hadn't cancelled this date. He'd figured that the wings wouldn't be seen and it was a first date anyway, no way Tim's shirt would be coming off. Also, if he'd cancelled Jordan might have thought that Tim wasn't interested, and that wasn't even remotely true. 

It was hard enough to find someone to date who actually seemed to like him, much less someone who could distract the media. And ever since Tam and Steph had started dating Tim hadn't had anyone for the rumor mill to latch onto. Jordan didn't mind any of that. 

Pretty, funny, smart, and she wasn't scared of the media. Really, what else could a guy want? Well, besides a superhero, but frankly those were hard to find. 

So Jordan didn't know about his latest magic mishap, which was all good and well and wouldn't have been a problem had Tim not fought Klarion during moulting season. 

At least it wasn't mating season. That would have been a nightmare. 

Tim dashed into a stall and unbuttoned his shirt as quickly as he could, trying to reach down to his wings, which flexed when his back muscles did.

No, no, no… come on…. He couldn't reach. 

He couldn't rub his back against the stall, there were people here. He couldn't find anything to help him reach, and last time he had scratched his back with a batarang it had… ended badly. 

He pulled out his phone. Dick was in Bludhaven and wouldn't be able to get to Metropolis in time, Cass, Bruce, and Damian weren’t even in the country. Duke couldn't get here from Gotham either. 

Steph and Tam, however, were both in Metropolis with Tim on the W/E business he was, but might have been busy doing…. what they do together. 

Steph, help

Im moulting

Steph

Steph this isnt funny

Steph answer please

Steph clearly still hadn't seen his text. He waited a full minute. 

Time for the cavalry. Bart had taken a trip to the future with Wally, which meant: Conner. Tim just hoped that Conner wasn't busy.

Conner help

The response was almost instant. What's up dude?

Im moulting

You're… what?

Dude i just need ur help

Tim's phone started ringing and Tim cut the call. 

Im on a date and i need a way out, one that doesnt make me look like a jerk. Eduardos, Peach and Devon

Now please

The itching was becoming unbearable. He'd make it up to Jordan, he would. 

He heard a boom and someone outside his stall said: "Must be Superman, I hope everything's alright."

Where are you?

Bathroom. 

Come out, ive got an excuse

Eduardo's was a high class establishment. Mainly for business deals, rich people, and romantic dinners. Candles lit the tables, flowers decorated as centerpieces. It was one of those restaurants where any talking was done in hushed voices simply because no one wanted to break the illusion. 

Jordan looked beautiful. Tim felt even more guilty as he sat back down. "So," Tim said when he returned, "you were saying about your major?"

"Right!" Jordan hummed. She opened her mouth to continue her story about how she chose Metropolis University for her biotech degree when Ivy was a more prestigious school when there was a commotion outside the restaurant. 

"What on earth…?" Jordan asked as Tim turned his head to the entrance as he saw Kon push his way through the waiters and ushers shouting Tim's name. 

"Mr Drake-Wayne! Mr. Drake-Wayne, Simmons will be so glad I found you! I know you said you didn't want to be disturbed-" Conner ran up to him, fake-panting. He'd decided to dress up for the occasion it seemed, a loose tie over a button down shirt and slacks that he no doubt stole from Clark's closet. His large glasses were askew on his face. Tim raised a hand to stop the security that was called to escort Kon out. "There's been an issue, you know, with the-" He shot a suspicious look at Jordan and lowered his voice, "-project. I know you want to finish your date but this is… you know." 

Tim held in a laugh at how Kon's eyes were sparkling. He was clearly enjoying this too much. "Of course, I'll come right away. Jordan, I sincerely apologize but-"

"No, it's alright Tim. We'll reschedule, I understand."

Tim patting himself for a pen and Kon produced one from somewhere along with a sticky note. "Order whatever you want, I'll pay-"

"Um, Mr. Wayne sir, we don't take… IOUs…" the Matre ‘D said but Tim shoved it into his hand. "My phone number is on there too, I'll pay for whatever her bill is. Excuse me-" 

"Sir-!" The Matre ‘D tried to say but Tim was already rushing out of the restaurant with Kon, apologizing to Jordan as he did. 

As soon as they made it out of Eduardo's, Kon was giggling. They turned the corner into an alley and Tim slipped off his jacket. "Thank you." He laid his back against the brick and began scratching it against there, not caring what dirt that got on his stupid expensive shirt, sighing as he felt the old feathers begin to losen. He shot an accusing glance at Kon who was grinning stupidly. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Kon was clearly amused. "Moulting, huh?"

"Apparently." Tim grit out as he tried to rub his back a little harder, trying to knock loose some of the feathers. One was sticking him painfully just on the underside of his wings. 

"Here," Kon immediately pulled Tim into his arms and took off. Tim didn't hear the boom when they reached high enough in the air but he was sure there was one. 

Tim yelped as Kon's TTK pressed against his wings uncomfortably, but within less than a minute they were in Lois and Clark's apartment. 

Tim wanted to ask Kon how living with them and Jon was going but he was more distracted by his wings. As soon as Tim touched ground, he ripped off his shirt, buttons flying. Tim looked around for some type of back scratcher or something when he felt Kon's TTK begin ruffling through his feathers, scratching like nails on his skin but soft through the pinfeathers. 

Jon's mouth dropped open. "Tim has wings!" He shouted, jumping up from the couch as Tim sagged slightly under the TTK. That felt good. 

"Mm, a little to the right-yeah right there." He hummed, going a little weak at the knees because of the relief.

Tim stretched his wings, shaking them slightly and old feathers fell to the floor. Jon gasped as he bent down to pick them up. 

"Wow! What happened?" He asked. 

"Thanks for now, Kon." Tim said, pushing himself out of Conner's grasp. 

"Tim's cursed for-" he turned to Tim, "how long?"

"A month." Tim grumbled. 

"To have wings. But why are you… shedding?"

"Moulting. Birds do it to grow in new feathers and get rid of old ones." Tim corrected. "And according to the ornithologist I went to-" 

"Bird scientist." Kon whispered to Jon who nodded sagely. 

"-this month is moulting time for North American robins."

"Don't robins have red feathers though?" Jon asked, twirling one of Tim's between his fingers. 

"Adults and only during mating season. Most of the rest of the year they're spotted." Tim said. "God, I'm starving, you guys have anything to eat?"

"We were just about to order pizza when you texted." Kon said, closing the window behind him.  Tim folded his shirt in his hands and bent down to pick up the rest of his feathers from the floor. "Lois and Clark are in Hub this weekend."

"Can you fly?" Jon asked, skipping behind Tim as he went to go sit on the couch. "Do you have any other bird characteristics? If I pull out one of your feathers does it hurt like when you pull out a nose hair or when you break a bone? Not that I would know because I've never broken a bone but Damian says it hurts so-"

"Hey Squirt! What do you want on your pizza? Tim's treat!"

Tim raised an eyebrow at Kon, who sat in the kitchen, leaning against a countertop. The phone against his ear. "Pepperoni and barbeque chicken!" Jon chirped beside Tim.

"My treat?"

"Well, I did just save you in a rather spectacular display of acting, if I do say so myself. I say I deserve payment for my performance. Be lucky I only demand pizza."

"And ice cream!" Jon added. 

"And ice cream."

Tim rolled his eyes and dug out his wallet. "Fine. But we get Hawaiian."

Kon glared at him and was probably about to say something about it when the pizza place picked up. "-Yes hello, I'd like to order two large pizzas…One double cheese with mushrooms and the other pepperoni and barbeque chicken." Tim walked over to give Kon his credit card. "Yes, I'm sure I don't want anything else-" Tim punched his arm and Kon laughed, floating out of his reach. "Yes, I've got the credit card right here- Ow! Fine. Three large pizzas, make the third Hawaiian, you freak." The last bit was directed at Tim who made a rude gesture at him and Kon laughed again. 

~~~

Jon fell asleep around ten, ice cream sundae half eaten. He snored, face lying on Kon's thigh. Kon's fingers scratched through Tim's feathers as they watched Wendy. Kon had been slowly introducing it to Jon, well the more PG13 aspects, and Jon was just as obsessed as his older brother. 

"Right there." Tim said, and Kon's TTK dug into his wings, pulling out the old feather. Kon put it in the small pile accumulating on the table. "Jeez, how much can you shed?"

"Moult." Tim corrected. "And apparently moulting season is about five weeks for robins. I'll have a little bit every day or so."

"I guess that means no more dates with… what's her name?"

"Jordan." Tim mumbled relaxing as the TTK spread out over his shoulders, massaging them some. "Yeah, I guess not. It's really unfortunate. I really liked this one."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, and Eduardo's is like, a three week wait. Even for Waynes." Tim said as he ripped off the crust of his pizza. Kon took it from him and munched on it as Tim ate the rest of it.

"Aw, are you sad because you didn't get a candlelit dinner?" Kon teased.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Yeah well, it's not like I get to relax like that often." 

"Ew!" Kon jumped and glanced down at Jon who was drooling onto his pants. Kon poked him hard. "Okay, Jonno. Time for bed." 

"No…" Jon whined as his eyes blinked open. "I'm awake! I'm awake!."

"Nope. Come on, I already let you stay up an hour later than Lois does. Brush your teeth and get under the covers. I'm gonna come check in a moment."

Jon whined about it but he sulked off to the bathroom anyway. Kon paused the TV and began cleaning up. 

"Hey you want to stay the night? Lois and Clark won't mind." Kon asked as he shoved the empty pizza boxes in the garbage. 

"Yeah, I think so," Tim said, toying with his phone. 

"What were you even going to do with Jody-?" 

"Jordan."

"-Like, you've got wings, dude." 

"I wasn't planning on taking off my shirt, dude." Tim said, placing lids back on their containers of half melted ice cream. "It was the first date."

Kon snorted. "Sure you weren't."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Is a nice dinner and a goodnight kiss not enough for you?"

"Sure, but only if I get a walk in the park with it."

Tim stood and walked into the kitchen, tubs of ice cream in each hand. He put them in the freezer. "You're such an ass."

"And you're such a romantic."

"So?" Tim asked. He leaned against the fridge as he watched Kon wrap the stray pieces of pizza in tin foil and put them away for leftovers. "What's wrong with that? I never get anything nice and fairy-tale-like in my real life."

"Being cursed with magic wings isn't fairy-tale-like enough for you?" 

Tim rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant. Sometimes it’s just nice to be pampered, you know?"

Kon made a face that Tim couldn't read and shook his head. "I'm going to check on Jon. You can borrow my pajamas. You know where they are. Feel free to shower and stuff if you want."

Tim decided to take a shower. The day had been long, and his feathers felt a little grimy. After a thorough shower and a dry towel (a clump of pin-feathers stuck to the towel as he dried his back, but that seemed to be all of the moulting he had left for the day), he borrowed a pair of Kon’s pajama pants, deciding not to wear a shirt because of the wings and headed back out into the living room. 

Kon had a stupid smile on his face. Tim frowned. “What...?” He asked suspiciously. 

“I have a surprise for you.” 

Tim raised an eyebrow. Kon held out a hand. Tim laughed at him but took it, and Kon flew back out the window and up to the roof. And yeah, the cheesiness made Tim laugh but nothing could have possibly prepared him for what he saw on the roof. 

Small electric tea-lights speckled the roof, surrounding a blanket on which soder-floats in wine glasses had been settled. 

“What…?” Tim was giggling uncontrollably now. “What is this?”

“Well, you said that you missed having candlelit dinners and relaxing and stuff. I figured, well we already ate dinner but there’s always room for ice cream. And we didn’t have any candles but Clark and Lois had-”

“Oh, Conner you’re such a dork.” Tim laughed, clutching his belly. 

Kon grinned at him. “So you like it?”

Tim fell onto the blanket. He looked up at the sky and then rolled over, careful not to upset his drink. “Conner, this is the nicest but dorkiest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Kon sat next to him, petting his pinfeathers gently. Tim raised an eyebrow at him. “They’re so soft.” Kon said defensively. 

Tim snorted. “I think I’m done shedding-”

“Moulting.” Kon corrected with an easy smile. 

“-yes, for today. Thank you for everything you did for me tonight.”

“Of course.” Kon said softly. “It’s what bros do. Plus it was fun.”

“Yeah, I guess it was, in a way.” Tim shrugged, sitting up. He and Kon were so close. The electric candlelight flickered shadows across Kon’s face. And maybe it was how late it was, or that Tim was missing out on his date with Jordan, but he bent over and pressed his lips to Kon’s. 

And Kon didn’t kiss back. Tim pulled away, startled and flushed. He’d thought-Had he read Kon wrong? Had-?

“Candlelit dinner and a goodnight kiss, huh?” Conner breathed. 

Tim blinked. 

“Your version of a first date sucks.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I'd much rather another kiss than a walk in the park,” Kon pulled Tim closer, “but your shirt’s already off, so really, who's version does that make this?” Kon waggled his eyebrows.

Tim rolled his eyes and pushed Kon away, pelting an electric candle at him. He held in a laugh as he said back: “You’re such an ass,” and in return, Kon kissed him again.

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Breathe

Prompt: College AU - H/C

Soooooooo warnings: accidental triggering, mentions of past statutory rape because Kon had legit the worst girlfriends ever (specifically though talking about Kay in this), breakdown, panic attack, and all those other things that come with ptsd

I suck at h/c cuz im more of an h person than a c so... we'll see how i did ig. Also Tim gets Good Boyfriend points in this and this fandom doesnt have nearly enough fics where kons the one who needs help and tim's the one who gives it sooo

Ao3

~~~

"Take a deep breath. I'm here. It's going to be okay. That's right, now another one. Good job. You're doing great." Tim chanted. The words flowed from his mouth like a river. Over and over, the same sentiment, the same words. 

The girl hadn't meant to trigger Kon, but the voluptuous ginger had looked so uncannily like her that even Tim had done a double take. Then she'd hit on Kon. 

Kon would have flirted back, from anyone else. Anyone who looked just slightly different enough--he would have been fine. 

Well, he wouldn't have been fine but he certainly wouldn't have had a panic attack. 

Tim's fingers wrapped around Kon's ears, forcing his white face to look at Tim. Tim looked so different from either of them--but Kay specifically. His black hair to her red. His small and compact to her large and robust.

"Take a deep breath. Yeah, that's it. You're going to be okay." 

He'd shooed everyone else out of the room a little while back. The redhead had freaked out. She hadn't meant to trigger him. She hadn't known. It wasn't her fault. But nevertheless, Kon was curled up on the floor, his head in Tim's hands, his legs between Tim's knees. His back flattened against the wall behind him. 

Tears dribbled down Kon's face and Tim dropped one hand to wipe them away. But he was at least gasping for air now. Kon sucked down air in large shaky gulps. 

"You're going to be okay. You're doing so great. Keep breathing. Just breathe."

"T-the girl." He stuttered as his pulse began to slow. He tried to push himself from Tim's grasp. "I-I have to-to ap-pologize."

"She's sorry. She didn't know. It's not your fault."

"I-"

"Breathe, Kon. Let's focus on breathing first."

Kon nodded shakily as he coughed through sobs. His shaking hands (which had previously been clenched so hard they'd left bloody crescents on his palms) took Tim's away from his face. 

Kon pressed a kiss to Tim's fingertips. He hiccuped and closed his eyes. Tim took one of them out of his grasp and brushed back Kon's hair as he calmed down. 

Outside them the party they were at stayed raging. Tim had pulled Kon into the first open room with a door that he could (and had kicked out everyone already in there so Kon could have his panic attack in peace). Now, Tim realized that a bedroom probably wasn't the best place to have this conversation. 

Kon wrapped his arms around Tim and pulled him close. He buried his hiccuping face into the crook of Tim's neck. Tim continued to run his fingers through Kon's hair. Kon's face was still wet and cold against Tim's skin. 

An unbelievable amount of rage burned in Tim's belly. Kay was long gone, had been since their junior year of high school, but every now and then her effects were still felt. Kon would break down when an older woman got too close. Wouldn't sign up for Dr. Isley's class. Little things. 

Then, this big thing. 

Kon shook in Tim's arms. Tim held him tighter. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked softly.

Kon shook his head against Tim's neck. 

"Do you want to call Doctor Thompson?"

Kon shook his head immediately. Tim would have reprimanded him but now didn't seem like the time. After a couple of seconds Kon mumbled a "maybe later."

"Do you want to go back to the party?" Tim asked. He rubbed slow circles into Kon's back. 

Kon shook his head. 

"Okay. We can go back to your dorm if you want? I can bore you with my econ paper. You can throw kettle corn at my head while you watch Wendy. I can invite Bart and Cassie over. Does that sound like fun?"

Kon hesitated. He nodded then shook his head. "Yes to throwing kettle corn at me because I'm studying for my soc test and no to Bart and Cassie?" Tim guessed. 

Tim could feel Kon's lips twitch slightly against his neck. Kon kissed his collarbone in response. 

"I'll take that as a yes. You good to stand? Want to sit for a little more?"

Kon shook his head and then nodded. 

"Okay." Tim pressed a kiss to his hair. His fingers drew the W/E logo onto Kon's back. "Here we'll stay."

[drawingsanddrabbles]

The World's Worst Detective

Prompt: Arranged Marriage - Established Relationship

What can these two being mixed? Uhh this apparently... I tried to mix them okay?

ao3

~~~

Tim had never meant to not tell Bruce about his relationship with Prince Conner. He had always been busy, or something else had come up just when he was about to mention it, or--and this was the most common one--he just plain forgot that Bruce didn't know. 

And really, Bruce, master spy he was, should have been able to figure it out by himself. Seriously, it wasn't like Tim and Conner were keeping it a secret, Conner was just restraining from his usual over-reaction to a partner because Tim preferred privacy and he respected that. 

So when Tim was called into his boss' office he was surprised to find Bruce with his Scheming Face on. His fingers were steepled before his mouth. He stared at a map of the Territories before him. 

"Timothy, I know you would do many things for me, but this time what I will ask of you will be... more complicated."

"Okay..?" Tim said as he sat across from Bruce. 

"I am going to arrange for you to marry the prince. For his security against Luthor, Clark would prefer to have a spy by him all day and your marriage to him would be the perfect cover." Tim was about to interrupt him but Bruce kept going. "I know you may be uncomfortable with this, Conner being your friend and all, but worry not. You won't have to produce an heir or conduct any intimate behavior for the job. You'll be introduced to him as a Lordling from a far off state whose land Clark is interested in purchasing. In trade for your marriage you'll pledge your lands to his kingdom, and you and Conner will only have to be married for a year or so before we'll be able to deter Luthor's spies and kill your persona off. Any questions?"

Tim had many questions, and even more concerns. But what ended up coming out of his mouth was: "When-?"

The question was going to be 'when did this happen?' 'When did you and Clark come up with this asinine plan?' 'When exactly were you planning on killing me?' But Bruce seemed to misunderstand his confusion for excitement. "You'll be introduced to Conner tomorrow evening. He's aware of the arrangement as well, and that you're just there to protect him. The marriage will commence within a week, and from there we'll keep you around just as long as it takes for Luthor to get the message."

Tim was about to tell Bruce then and there but then Damian came running up to him, something about a string of game poisonings in Clark's protected forests and that took precedence. 

~~~

Conner leaned over the kiss Tim's neck while he worked. Tim leaned back into him with a sigh, putting down his quill. "Now, now. Save it for marriage." Tim joked and behind him he felt Conner freeze.

Tim turned around. "You okay?"

"What did you just say?"

"Bruce said Clark told you." Conner's face stayed shocked. "About the arranged marriage thing..?"

Something changed in Conner's eyes. His mouth twitched. "No..?"

"Oh!" So Tim explained. Conner seemed to get less confused and more relaxed as he did (and a little less scared, which was something Tim didn't want to think about). 

When Tim finished Conner thought about it for a second and then began to laugh. 

"What?" Tim asked through a chuckle. Kon's smile was contagious  

"Do... do they know? I mean, they've got to know. Bruce has to know, you don't become spymaster for nothing-"

"I'm not sure he does..." Tim shrugged with a snort. "Bruce didn't allude to anything, and he's not as smart as he'd like you to think." 

"Well, duh." Conner said then guffawed again. He clutched his stomach and rolled onto his belly. "We're getting fake arrange-married and we're already real-dating!"

Tim grinned and leaned closer to Kon, catching the corner of his mouth with his. "And, Bruce promises we won't have to fake 'intimacies'" Tim made quotations with his fingers as Conner kissed him back. 

"You're right. We won't have to fake them." Conner kissed Tim between each statement. On his mouth, his forehead, his nose. "We'll real them."

Tim laughed and kissed Kon back. "Ready to marry me, Prince Conner Kent?"

"Only if you promise about the intimacies thing, Baron Timothy Drake."

"But that would ruin our cover! If we are too much like ourselves, don't you th-Mmph!"

It seemed that Kon didn't agree and he took that time just to show Tim how different their intimacies could be, for their cover's sake, of course. 

Secretly, Tim hoped that one day they'd do it for real, but for now he supposed a fake-arranged marriage was close enough.

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Sjfjsksk your reaction im dying skjddk

Glad you liked it!

On The Run

On mobile so no readmore. K so I know that @timkonweek2019 said that you only need to do 1 prompt but I decided to challenge myself and do both of them so here is day 1 prompt: fantasy au - bed sharing/one bed

Ao3

~~~

The heat of the tavern blasted Tim in the face when he opened the door, surprising him even though it shouldn’t have. The sounds of merriment and hearty meals were drowned out by the howl of the wind outside. He grabbed Prince Conner by the collar and pulled him into the tavern behind him. 

Conner let out a huff. He opened his mouth, probably to complain, and Tim spoke before he could. “Remember,” he hissed, “you’re not a prince here. Do what I say and don’t speak unless I tell you to.” 

Conner glared at him and made a rude gesture but stayed silent. Thank Rao. A word out of his mouth and it would be no doubt who exactly he was—despite Tim’s best efforts to disguise him. Dirt and coloring could only do so much for a man. Especially one with Prince Conner’s devastating looks. 

Focus, Tim. People are trying to kill him, remember? 

Conner—Prince Conner, Tim corrected himself. The moment he started thinking of the Prince as an equal he would be lost—pulled Tim in close and Tim ignored the rush that burned through him at the proximity. “So where exactly is your mom?” He breathed in Tim’s ear. The hairs on the back of Tim’s neck stood up. 

“My brother.” Tim hissed back, pushing himself out of Prince Conner’s grasp. Tim scanned the room. He couldn’t see Dick. “He’s probably in the back. Come on.” Tim set out to the bar. The girl behind it he knew, though he wasn’t sure if she remembered him. 

“What can I do for you boys?” Helena Bertinelli asked. She looked much less deadly without her hood up. Not that Tim would ever tell her that. 

“I’m looking for Dick. Is he here?” Tim asked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Prince Conner turn to grin at the girl sitting at the bar next to him. He winked and the girl giggled. Tim resisted the urge to step on his foot. He was still technically Tim’s superior. Tim could only get away with so much disrespect in the name of saving his life. Tim settled for jerking Prince Conner’s scarf to get his attention so Tim could glare at him. 

Conner rolled his eyes. 

“He’s chatting up the cook. Why?”

Tim slipped a hand (the one that had previously tugged at Prince Conner) into his left breast pocket. He pulled out a coin with a bat stamped on it. “He’s family.” Tim said, passing it to the Huntress. Even if she didn’t recognize him, she would recognize this. 

Helena’s eyebrows raised slightly, probably surprised at how Tim had gotten it despite being clearly young, but the most recent Robin was even younger than he had been when he’d joined the Order of the Bat so, really, she shouldn’t have been. 

“I’m sure he’d love for you two to visit him. Come with me.” Helena said. She unlatched the door to the bar and let Prince Conner and Tim in. 

In true Princely fashion His Highness followed Tim but not without a gallant bow to the girl he’d been flirting with and a pout for Tim. Didn’t he understand that Tim was trying to protect him? “Is she your sister?” He whispered, nodding to Helena. His eyes scraped up and down Helena’s body and Tim’s insides did a funny twisty thing. He was probably just hungry, he thought. He wasn’t… jealous. No, that would be stupid. 

“No. But also, no.”

“Aw, why not? Let her decide for herself!”

“First of all, you’re too young for her. Secondly, we’re here to find a place to crash before we continue onto the Fortress, remember? We don’t have time for… that.” Tim waved a hand to Helena. 

“Oh, Captain. There’s always time for-” Prince Conner imitated Tim with an amused smile, “’that.’” 

Tim ignored His Highness. Helena led them into the kitchen where Dick was sitting at a table doing exactly what Helena had said he was doing. “Dick, your brother came for a visit.” She said. Dick turned and Helena flicked him the Bat-token that Tim had handed to her. He glanced at it and his eyes flickered up to Tim and Prince Conner. A smile broke out on his face. 

“Brotherling!” He cried. He jumped up and ran over to wrap Tim in a giant bear hug. Prince Conner chuckled over Dick’s shoulder and Tim glared at him while he endured Dick’s enthusiasm. Dick finally set Tim down and his eyes stayed on Tim’s though Tim knew that he was fully aware of His Highness’s every breath. “What brings you here?”

“We need a place to stay. Can you put us up for the night?” Tim asked, wary of the cook in the corner. 

Dick’s face fell. “We’re all booked up, but I can give you a maid’s quarters. Tight rooming, but it’s still a roof.” Dick followed Tim’s eyes to the cook and nodded discreetly. So they were safe to speak freely in front of him. 

“We’ll take it.” Tim said when Prince Conner opened his mouth to protest. 

“Let’s get you settled in. Tiger will make you some of our best parts of the menu,” Dick said to the cook who just shrugged. Dick took one of Tim’s hands and began leading him to the room they’d been staying in. Dick finally turned to Prince Conner as they walked. “Who’s your… grubby friend?” 

“The prince.” Tim said. Prince Conner’s head whipped around to him. 

“I thought we were keeping a low profile.” Prince Conner said, eyes narrow. 

“Dick can keep a secret.” Tim asked. Dick raised an eyebrow, and Tim shook his head. He still hadn’t told His Highness about the Order of the Bat, just that Dick was his brother and would keep them safe. Krypton, His Highness still thought that Tim’s name was Alvin Draper. 

Dick made a face to tell Tim just what he thought about Tim’s methods but Tim ignored it. “Is it true, what they say?” Dick asked Prince Conner as they reached the door. Dick took a keyring out of his pocket and unlocked the small room. “You’re really a Kryptonian?” 

The door looked like it had been shoved in between cupboards. The room itself was small and had a sloped wooden roof. While the door’s hinges squeaked, the floorboard, Tim noticed appreciatively, did not. It was right under the hearth, Tim could tell, so it was relatively warm. There was one window up by the ceiling of the room, so they could see the snow fall outside. A small door presumably led to a privy and bath. Tim would fill it later for His Highness. It would be a good test of his magic to see if Prince Conner could warm it up for himself. 

“That’s what they say.” Prince Conner said glumly. He was clearly trying to copy Dick’s accent like Tim had told him to try, but his highborn lit still crept through. Maybe Tim would just have to keep him mute the whole journey. Not that Tim would mind that. Prince Conner walked into the room, frowning. 

“Like I said—it’s small. I know it’s not royal, but-”

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Dick.”

“Of course, Al.” Dick said. Tim’s fake name sounded weird coming from Dick’s lips. “We need to catch up.” He said, poking Tim.  He glanced meaningfully at Prince Conner who’s back was turned to them. His Highness was inspecting the room, hands in his pockets. He walked soundlessly across the floor-something Tim hadn’t known he could do. All Prince Conner ever seemed to do was stomp. 

“Of course. Maybe later.”

“Should I fill the bath?” Dick asked. “I can send Helena to-”

“I’ll do it. But thank you.”

That was when Tim noticed the single bed. Tim would sleep on the floor then. 

Dick noticed it at the same time and a worried look came over his face. “I’d forgotten. I’ll pull some blankets from a guest. Just say that we ran out-”

“No.” Tim argued. He didn’t want to inconvenience Dick any more than he already had. “I’ll just sleep on our clothes. Besides, it’s warm here from the hearth so I won’t need any as actual blankets. I’ll be fine.”

“Al-”

“I mean it, Dick. Don’t lie to a guest for our sakes. Really, I have enough scarves on my body that I’ll have enough. What you’ve done is enough. Thank you.”

Prince Conner finally seemed to have noticed the single bed. He looked at Tim. Dick gave Tim an exasperated look. “I’m not a terrible host. I’d offer my own bed, but I won’t be the only one sleeping in it tonight…” Dick grinned sheepishly. “Alfie would kill me if I didn’t at least offer some of my own blankets though to make your little nest.” Tim began to object when Dick shut him down with a look. “I’ll be right back. Settle in.”

Dick turned and left, closing the door behind him. Prince Conner eyed the bed. “You can take it.” He said. And Tim wondered if that was the first time that Prince Conner had ever offered something to Tim. It didn’t matter though because the point was mute. Tim wasn’t taking the bed. 

“You’re the prince. You take it.” Tim said. 

“If we get attacked you’re the one who’s going to save me, right Captain?” Prince Conner asked. He made no move to change. He watched Tim though. His face was stony. “You need to be well rested. You take the bed.”

Tim snorted. “Like you could ever sleep in anything less than a feather mattress. Take the bed, your Highness. I’m used to the floor.”

“Hey! I’ve slept on the floor before!” Prince Conner argued. 

“I very much doubt that what you were doing on that floor was sleeping.” Tim snapped. “Just take the cursed bed. This isn’t a discussion.”

Prince Conner bit the inside of his cheek. He sat on the bed, continuing to watch as Tim began creating his little nest for the night. “You know, when you said ‘Hey Conner, let’s run for your life together, won’t that be fun?’ This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” 

It hadn’t happened like that. “Well, running from your father’s assassins isn’t exactly my idea of a good time either, your Highness.”

“Stop calling me that.” 

“Calling you what, your highness?”

“That. ‘Your highness’. I’m the prince of nothing now.” Prince Conner grumbled. He kicked off his boots and curled up on the bed. 

Tim took an inventory of his weapons. Throwing knives, his short sword, two daggers from Bruce, his official Captain of the Guard knife. He’d probably have to get rid of that. It could identify them if someone saw the sigil. Tim hesitated. It meant something to him. A show of how far he’d come by himself, with no help from the Order of the Bat. 

“You’re still the Prince-”

“My father-King Lex wants me dead because I’ve shown a stupid small sign of a possibility of Kryptonian Magic. Which-by the way-I have shown no other signs of. I have been disowned. I have no kingdom. My people want me dead. I have to slum in squalor and hide and run to a place I’ve never known. I am no prince.”

“You’re still my Prince, your Highness.” Tim said. Prince Conner’s eyes shot up. “You will get your kingdom back. We will dethrone your father, and you will take your rightful place, your highness. That’s how it’s destined to be. You’re a Kryptonian.”

“Maybe-”

Tim didn’t want to have this argument again. He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Highness-“

“No. Maybe. Maybe. Don’t lie to Draper, you’re not good at it.” Tim winced. If only His Highness really knew. “I showed one sign of possibly being a Kryptonian. My father found out, because I’m an idiot and told him, and now he’s trying to kill me because he’s so cursedly paranoid of being unseated by a prophesy of a Kryptonian taking his country that he would rather have me killed than think I have any of their blood in me. When we get to the Fortress chances are I won’t even be able to do anything once we’re there because it was an… accident! A spark from somewhere that lit that curtain on fire! I mean I haven’t be able to produce any other magic this entire trip and by god we had needed it two nights ago-”

“Highness.” Tim snapped. Prince Conner turned to him sharply. Tim sat on the edge of the bed, taking Prince Conner’s face in his hands. “You’re a Kryptonian, and I know you’re scared and I know you just want to rewind the clock but you can’t do that now.” He said, his voice slow and steady. Prince Conner looked like he was going to cry. “Take a deep breath.” Conner inhaled shakily. “Good, now another one.” Again His Highness did as Tim ordered. “I know you’re scared, but I’m going to keep you safe, okay? That’s my job. I’d rather die than fail. Have you ever known me to fail?” Prince Conner shook his head. “I am going to keep you safe. I am going to get you to the Fortress to train. And even if you aren’t a Kryptonian, you’re going to learn how to fight and how to lead. And then, I am going to help you unseat your tyrant of a father and take your rightful place on his throne and you are going to be alright. Okay?”

Prince Conner nodded slowly. 

“You say I’m a terrible liar, do I look like I’m lying to you?” Conner shook his head. 

The door opened and Dick walked in, arms full of blankets. “Oh-!” He said softly when he saw them. Tim pulled away from Conner, willing himself not to flush. “Am I interrupting something?”

Prince Conner gave Dick a winning smile and replied in his horrible low-class accent: “Just your brother’s rousing call-to-arms.”

Dick winced. “Wow,” he told Tim as Tim took the blankets from him, “his accent is really bad.” To which Prince Conner pouted. “You have your work cut out for you.”

“I know.” Tim replied to protests from Prince Conner. 

“If there’s anything else-”

“Just food I think,” Tim said gratefully. “Thanks for everything Dick-”

“Seriously, Al. Not a problem. You know that.” Dick waved to Prince Conner before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Tim dropped the blankets on the ground and began making a little nest for himself to sleep in. “So…” Prince Conner said, picking at the fraying blanket on the bed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a brother? You know, before.”

Tim didn’t look up from the blankets. “I don’t know. I guess you never asked. You’re my boss, Highness, my past life never really seemed like something to talk about.”

Prince Conner was quiet for a moment. It was so out of character that Tim looked up at him. “What?" 

"Were.” His Highness said. 

“What?”

“Were, Alvin. Maybe I’ll be your prince again some day, but I think that at this point I’m no longer your boss-”

Tim snorted, cutting Prince Conner off. “I’m going to draw some water from the well.”

“What? Now? It’s death out there!”

“We both need a bath, Highness. I’m getting water. Eat something while I’m gone.” He righted his scarf around himself and grabbed a water bucket from the privy. 

The wind outside hadn’t died down, and it was barely light enough to see anything, if you could get through the layers of snow which fell fast. 

Tim managed to make it to the well and chip off the top level of ice enough that he could dunk the bucket in and fill it. 

The water was freezing. Tim’s fingers were wet through the gloves and felt as though they’d fall off from the wind hitting them. He trudged on, further filling the bucket and returning to the inn and privy three more times. It gave him time to breathe and think. They’d need to travel quickly to get to the Fortress. After Conner fell asleep he’d plan out their route with Dick. Unfortunately they wouldn’t be able to stay every night in a BatHouse but they’d want to hit as many as possible on their way up north. Even in Bruce’s Kingdom they wouldn’t be safe, and they’d have other issues too, like the manic bounty hunters and bandits that no doubt have heard that Conner has been chased out of his land. 

The final time he arrived with the bucket Prince Conner had finished his own dinner and was watching Tim expectantly. 

“What?” Tim asked as he poured the water into the tub and then began taking off his outer layer of clothing. 

“You know, I don’t need to-” Prince Conner waved vaguely to the tub. 

“Maybe you don’t, or think you don’t,” Tim wrinkled his nose, “but I certainly do. Come here.”

Prince Conner walked over, confused by the order. “Why?” He asked. 

Tim nodded to the tub. “Unless you want to bathe in ice cold water, heat it up.”

His Highness blinked. “You mean… use my…”

“Yes, your magic.”

“I can’t do that!”

“I’m pretty sure you can, in fact, set things on fire-”

“I did that once! One time!" 

"You set a house on fire.”

“It was just the curtains!”

“Maybe at first. But the entire building did burn down, whether you burnt it yourself or not.”

That earned Tim a scowl. Tim just rolled his eyes. “Heat up the water.”

“How?” Prince Conner demanded. “I’ve only ever done it once and every time I’ve tried since then I’ve gotten nothing!”

“Maybe by yourself, but now you have me to help you and an ice cold bath as encouragement. Let’s recreate what you were doing when it happened-”

Prince Conner grinned at him. “At least buy me dinner first, Captain.”

It wasn’t that Tim didn’t know the specifics of their last night in the castle. He did, and he knew exactly what (read: who) His Highness had been doing that night, so Tim just rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant, your Highness.”

The Prince may have known what Tim meant but he clearly didn’t like it. His ears turned pink and he cleared his throat. “Do-do I have to?”

“If you feeling hot and bothered is how we’re going to begin getting a grasp on your magic, then yeah. You have to.”

Prince Conner turned towards the water. He glared at it intensely as Tim watched, arms crossed. A minute or so passed before he turned to Tim and said: “I can’t do it when you’re watching.”

“What?”

“It feels like you’re judging me.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He turned around. “Better?” He asked. 

“Well, no, not really. But whatever.” Prince Conner pouted. They waited in silence again for about a minute before Tim said: “Are you even trying-?”

“Yes! I’m trying! But I can still feel you judging me!”

Tim scowled at the wall. “Well? What do you want me to do? I can’t just change the way you perceive me.”

“I don’t know,” the rebuttal came out as more of a whine, “sing or something.”

Tim snorted. “Oh you do not want me to sing.”

The Prince mumbled something under his breath. “What?” Tim asked. 

“Nothing. Just… talk or something then?”

Tim shifted from foot to foot. “Fine. What do you want me to talk about?”

“How about the Not-Sister of yours?" 

Tim was surprised, and he felt something painful ache in his chest, though he had no idea why. "Helena? Why?”

“I don’t know. Why not?”

“There’s not much to say about her. She’s just kind of… Helena. She’s a family friend. She works with Dick." 

"How’d you meet?" 

"Like I said, family friend.”

“Well, I don’t really know anything about your family either." 

What could he tell Conner without mentioning the Order of the Bat or Bruce? "I’ve got a bunch of siblings. Dad always liked taking in strays.”

“Well, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Me. This.”

Tim was quiet for a moment. “You know I’m not… I’m doing this just to get you on the throne or Lex off. Or out of some sort of twisted… obligation to you. I genuinely believe in you. I believe you would be a good king. You’re not a… burden. Or a means to an end. You’re not a stray. I chose to be by your side and keep you safe.”

Prince Conner must have been uncomfortable because then he said: “Tell me more about your family.”

“Why?" 

"I hardly know anything about you.”

“But is this… helping?” In case Conner had forgotten why they were doing this in the first place. 

“Well…” Conner admitted sheepishly. “Maybe talking about Dick would but-”

“Ew!”

“Oh come on Vinnie, he’s clearly… you know,”

“He’s my brother and we’re changing the subject now, Highness.”

“Whatever you say, Captain.” Tim heard Conner snicker. 

“How about we talk about Tana? She’s what started this, isn’t she?”

Conner was quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Okay, then what?”

“Look, clearly this isn’t working. Let’s just freeze our balls off in the bath and then-”

“I really think-”

“Alvin, it’s not happening." 

Tim sighed, turning back around. "Fine. We’ll try again another day. You’re probably just tired." 

But Prince Conner didn’t sound as hopeful. "Yeah. Whatever.”

“You bathe first. I’ll get something to eat.”

“Fine.”

Tim turned, casting one last look at Prince Conner who looked miserable, and then walked out into the kitchen to eat.

Tiger heated him up some stew and bread, and Tim ate so fast he thought he’d be sick. It was good, and Tim hadn’t realized until now how hungry he was.

“Don’t puke now.” Dick. 

Tim patted the seat next to him, and Dick sat, stealing some stew with a lump of bread. “So little brother… the Prince, huh?”

“Luthor wanted to kill him.” Tim responded between bites. 

“And he’s calling you ‘Alvin’.”

“Well, I couldn’t just use my real name.”

“Tim.”

“I was undercover, Dick.”

“I know! But you still haven’t told him?”

“He’s just had his whole world flipped upside down. His father is trying to kill him and suddenly his boring old Captain of the Guard is taking him by the hand and telling him that he knows where the last Kryptonian stronghold is and that we have to run there now or his father will succeed. Adding the whole ‘oh by the way I’m actually Prince Tim Wayne from the Kingdom of Gotham, yeah that Kingdom of Gotham that’s constantly on the verge of war with your Metropolis! Oh! And get this, I’m actually a spy who’s been working for the underground Order of the Bat to unseat Lex the Tyrant for as long as you’ve known me, which has been a pretty long time, if I do say so myself’ didn’t really seem like something he needed to deal with at that moment.”

“Tim.. you have to tell him.” Tim opened his mouth to argue but Dick cut him off. “Maybe not all of it, but definitely the part about the Order.”

“You really want… him to know about the Order?”

“Again, not all of it. Just that… you’re in it. What we want to do.”

“I don’t want him to think I’m using him." 

"You’re using him just as much as he’s using you. Besides, telling him is you really not using him. You’re telling him what he’s getting into, now he has a choice.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Tim mumbled. He picked at the chunk of bread in his hands. 

“So he’s really a Kryptonian? The rumors are true?” Even Tiger seemed interested to know. Tim nodded. 

“I was there for some of it. He lit the house on fire with his eyes.”

A silence settled over the room. “Tim.” Dick said at last, “just… be careful.”

Tim snorted. “Please, he can’t even summon a heat-shimmer, he won’t hurt me.”

“I thought you said he burned down a building.” Tiger interrupted. 

“He did. But he still doesn’t know how to trigger it yet, so we probably won’t get anywhere soon.” Tiger made a disapproving face, as if Prince Conner’s inability to create a spark was Tim’s fault. “I’m working with him on it.”

“Kryptonians don’t just have fire magic though.” Dick protested.

“You mean the mythical strength? The invulnerability? Breath of ice? I know, Dick. I’m being careful. Promise.”

Dick seemed comforted enough for now because he relented.

“Listen, I actually need your help with something,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “can you get a map? I want to plot our course.”

~~~

Tim crept into the room hours later. The oil lamps still burned so Tim made his way to the privy for a quick bath. The water was warmer now, but still colder than Tim would have liked or was used to. He scrubbed himself quickly, ridding himself of the mud and grime from the road. He’d crawl back into his clothes and then into his… nest. 

His and Dick’s route looked actually doable. Tim has been surprised to see how little they would have to find places to sleep on their own. A couple times they’d have to sleep on the road, but Tim could do that. And if Tim could then Prince Conner would, whether he liked it or not. 

He climbed out of the bath and crept into the room, wrapped in his towel. The room was warm enough. Tim’s toes and fingers were cold, but he wasn’t freezing. He dressed and then dried his hair. 

Prince Conner slept soundly, his handsome face once again clean from dirt and mud. Tim would have to redo his disguise before they left, anyone as pretty as the Prince would bring them unwanted notice, even if the people didn’t recognize him.

The physique would be a little harder to hide. Tim was tempted to put a rock in his shoe to give him a limp or some other misidentifying feature but Prince Conner needed to be able to run at a word so they couldn’t do that. 

Prince Conner’s eyes were squeezed shut, his hands clenching the inn’s blanket, he was bunched over and curled up. The firelight flickered shadows across his face. Tonight he’d probably have a nightmare, if it got bad enough Tim would wake him up. 

Tim tiptoed over to the oil lamps and put them out, before returning to his nest. He pulled one of his scarf-blankets over his toes and shifted on his scarf-pillow. Tim fell asleep thinking of the many ways he could hide Conner’s beautiful features. Conner really was giving Bruce’s disguise tactics a run for their money, huh?

~~~

Prince Conner was making noises.  A small whimper or whine would escape his mouth occasionally. His eyes were still closed, his hands clenched and his toes curled. 

Tim woke up freezing. Conner’s nightmares must have started. He felt around in the dark for Conner’s bed. His fingers were numb from the cold and he was shivering. Clearly whatever hearth sat above them had gone out for the night. Tim blinked a couple times before realizing he could make out something vague in the night. Which… shouldn’t have been possible.  

Two pinpoints of dim brightness. 

His Highness made a sound in the back of his throat. At least he didn’t sleep talk, and his nightmares didn’t make him scream. 

Tim felt his way up to the bed, only barely able to see anything from the glow where Conner was. 

“Highness?” Tim asked, nudging Conner gently. 

Prince Conner sucked in a breath, and made a small noise. The glow brightened and Tim noticed that it was coming from his closed eyes. 

“Prince Conner? Your highness? It’s okay, it’s just a dream.” He touched Prince Conner’s temple. 

His Highness had always run hot. Touching him was like sticking your hand in warm wool. Always had been. Tonight though, Prince Conner’s forehead was warmer than usual. Not hot enough to be a fever but-

Prince Conner made a different noise. This one deep and breathy. Tim frowned. Was he having… trouble breathing?

“Your Highness!” He gave Prince Conner a sharp poke. Still he didn’t wake up. “Conner.” This time Tim pinched his check (the only part of Prince Conner he could really see). 

Prince Conner’s hips buckled and at once Prince Conner was awake, and his eyes were open and Tim was being roughly pushed back as fire poured from his eyes. 

His Highness shut them quickly. Tim stared, mouth open. Sure, he’d seen it before but not even remotely this closely. For a minute the room was warm and there was a brilliant flash of light and in the next, it was cold and dark again, but there was an added smell of scorched wood and Prince Conner’s heavy breathing. 

“Stop. Stop stop stop stop stop stopstopstop.” Prince Conner chanted, his hands over his eyes, extinguishing the light in the room.

But how could he use his heat magic if he was having a nightmare? It was only triggered (to Tim’s knowledge) by-

Oh. 

The sounds, the way Prince Conner reacted to being woken up… 

“Good dream?” He asked lamely. 

If Prince Conner could glare at him without frying him, Tim was sure he would. 

Tim shivered. It was freezing in here. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. Why would you wake me up?” Prince Conner snarled. 

“I thought you were having a nightmare.” Tim wanted to keep his fingers on His Highness’ skin. He was so warm and Tim was so cold. Tim gently placed a hand unseeingly somewhere on his torso when Prince Conner hissed and pushed away, breaking contact. His heavy breathing was one of the few sounds in the room.

“Just-Just give me a minute.” He begged. He huddled on the other side of the bed, eyes still covered until he managed to catch his breath. 

“If you need to-” Tim waved vaguely even though His Highness couldn’t see it, “I can leave-" 

"No.” So Tim stayed put. “I’m-I’m fine. I just.. I’ll be right back.” Prince Conner scrambled out of the bed, knocking over things and stumbling his way to the privy where the old bathwater sat. There was a sharp noise and a brightness that burned Tim’s eyes, and Prince Conner hacked out a cough as Tim saw a puff of steam waft out the door before the light was gone once again. 

“Well.” His Highness said from the privy. “The bathwater’s hot now.”

Tim couldn’t help but snicker which turned into a full body shiver. Maybe a hot bath wasn’t such a bad idea. 

After a small amount of time, Tim was about to go into the privy to check on Prince Conner (and maybe that bath, which would hopefully still be warm) when His Highness stumbled out. It took Tim a moment to realize what exactly Prince Conner had to have been doing in there that had taken so long. Tim was glad of two things, first that the darkness hid his full face blush, and second, that he had decided to stay put. 

Prince Conner tripped over Tim’s nest as he made his noisy way back to the bed. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

The was a second then: “I’m glad you did. Imagine if I don’t know… overheated them, and then BAM! my eyes and the whole room explode.”

“Kryptonians are super strong, remember? Also invulnerable.”

“Ah yes, but small, angry, scary, and frankly mysterious Captains of the Guard aren’t generally, or is there something you’d like to tell me?” He said, fumbling over to the bed. Prince Conner’s warm hands patted the air and Tim’s face as he tried to figure out where he was. Tim took his forearms and led him to the bed, sitting him down.

His Highness sat. Tim felt his legs brush Tim’s own. 

Tim still hadn’t let go of Prince Conner’s arms, warmth flooding through them. 

“Wow.” His Highness hissed. “Al, your fingers are fucking freezing.” He took Tim’s hands in his own and brought them closer, placing them in his… was that his armpit? 

“Ew." 

"Krypton, is all of you this cold? Come here.”

Tim tried to pull his hands back but Prince Conner strongarmed him into an odd hug of a sort. His warm body pressing against Tim’s. “Armpits are some of the warmest parts of the body.” Prince Conner argued. He was right, of course, but it still grossed Tim out. Or, well, it should have. But there was something… inexplicably comforting about the whole ordeal. Something Tim didn’t really want to examine much further. 

“Please release me, your Highness. We should really go back to sleep-”

“Uh uh. No way you’re going back to sleeping on the ground.” Tim could feel Prince Conner’s breath by his ear. Tim shook and he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or… something else. 

The cold. It was the cold. 

“And freeze to death? I don’t think so. We’ll manage on the bed. And-What the fuck?” He’d pulled Tim close enough that Tim’s feet had brushed up against the inside of His Highness’s thighs (which were, for anyone who cares, so warm that Tim wanted to curl up between them–not that he would. He was-it was just warm. That was all). 

“See, you don’t want to share a be-” Tim said already pulling out of Prince Conner’s embrace, ignoring the way something in his belly plummeted. 

“Nope. Not getting out of here that fast-” Prince Conner reeled him back in, legs tangled in his, arms and fingers intertwined. So close Tim could smell him and his-

Tim tried to break the hold. He should have been able to. Prince Conner was strong and athletic for sure but Tim had always been stronger than him. It was his job to be. But Tim couldn’t break free. “Highness, let go.” He didn’t, he just held Tim tighter. “Highness-Conner you’re hurting me." 

There was a gasp and immediately Tim was released. "I’m what? I can’t be- But- You’re-”

“Clearly some of that Kryptonian strength.” Tim mumbled, rubbing at his wrists. 

“Oh Krypton, Alvin I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, Highness. You’re still learning your own strength.” Tim said. But really his mind was more focused on the fact that without… cuddling… His Highness like they’d been, Tim was shivering again. “Where are you? Come back.” Tim mumbled, reaching out with hand until he found Prince Conner. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. The last thing I want is to hurt you Al-” He brushed Tim’s hand away.

Tim’s teeth were chattering now. “You know now. It’s fine, really. Come back, I’m freezing.”

As if drawn to his words like a fly to honey, he was back in Prince Conner’s arms. Only this time he was barely being held. As if he would break if Prince Conner breathed too hard. 

Tim took a deep breath as the warmth settled in his bones. “Okay.” He finally ordered himself to say. “Okay. Okay. Time to head back to bed. We need to sleep.” He began pulling himself out of His Highness’s hold when protests arose again. “No! What part of you’re so cold that you’re shaking aren’t you getting! You’re sleeping with me in the bed! Deal with it!”

“Highness, the bed is tiny.” And you're… you. 

“Alvin. Think of it as an order from your prince. Get in the bed.”

Tim scowled at him (not that Prince Conner could see it in the dark) and snapped: “Fine.”

As soon as he laid down on the bed, huddling close to the Prince for warmth, he felt his eyes begin to droop closed. He felt warm and Prince Conner was a little bit soft. Tim rested his head on Prince Conner’s shoulder, practically on top of him. The blanket at his back. He could feel His Highness shifting beneath him to get comfortable. 

“When we get back to the Capital, you tell my men that we cuddled and I’ll make sure you wished you were killed by assassins.” Tim grumbled to him, momentarily forgetting that after Lex was defeated, he wouldn’t be heading back to Metropolis. He had his own Kingdom to help run. 

“I promise Alvin, your reputation is safe with me.”

Tim yawned loudly. “Tim.” He said.

“What?”

“My name,” he mumbled into Conner’s chest, “is Tim.” And then he fell asleep.

[drawingsanddrabbles]

On The Run

On mobile so no readmore. K so I know that @timkonweek2019 said that you only need to do 1 prompt but I decided to challenge myself and do both of them so here is day 1 prompt: fantasy au - bed sharing/one bed

Ao3

~~~

The heat of the tavern blasted Tim in the face when he opened the door, surprising him even though it shouldn’t have. The sounds of merriment and hearty meals were drowned out by the howl of the wind outside. He grabbed Prince Conner by the collar and pulled him into the tavern behind him. 

Conner let out a huff. He opened his mouth, probably to complain, and Tim spoke before he could. “Remember,” he hissed, “you’re not a prince here. Do what I say and don’t speak unless I tell you to.” 

Conner glared at him and made a rude gesture but stayed silent. Thank Rao. A word out of his mouth and it would be no doubt who exactly he was—despite Tim’s best efforts to disguise him. Dirt and coloring could only do so much for a man. Especially one with Prince Conner’s devastating looks. 

Focus, Tim. People are trying to kill him, remember? 

Conner—Prince Conner, Tim corrected himself. The moment he started thinking of the Prince as an equal he would be lost—pulled Tim in close and Tim ignored the rush that burned through him at the proximity. “So where exactly is your mom?” He breathed in Tim’s ear. The hairs on the back of Tim’s neck stood up. 

“My brother.” Tim hissed back, pushing himself out of Prince Conner’s grasp. Tim scanned the room. He couldn’t see Dick. “He’s probably in the back. Come on.” Tim set out to the bar. The girl behind it he knew, though he wasn’t sure if she remembered him. 

“What can I do for you boys?” Helena Bertinelli asked. She looked much less deadly without her hood up. Not that Tim would ever tell her that. 

“I’m looking for Dick. Is he here?” Tim asked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Prince Conner turn to grin at the girl sitting at the bar next to him. He winked and the girl giggled. Tim resisted the urge to step on his foot. He was still technically Tim’s superior. Tim could only get away with so much disrespect in the name of saving his life. Tim settled for jerking Prince Conner’s scarf to get his attention so Tim could glare at him. 

Conner rolled his eyes. 

“He’s chatting up the cook. Why?”

Tim slipped a hand (the one that had previously tugged at Prince Conner) into his left breast pocket. He pulled out a coin with a bat stamped on it. “He’s family.” Tim said, passing it to the Huntress. Even if she didn’t recognize him, she would recognize this. 

Helena’s eyebrows raised slightly, probably surprised at how Tim had gotten it despite being clearly young, but the most recent Robin was even younger than he had been when he’d joined the Order of the Bat so, really, she shouldn’t have been. 

“I’m sure he’d love for you two to visit him. Come with me.” Helena said. She unlatched the door to the bar and let Prince Conner and Tim in. 

In true Princely fashion His Highness followed Tim but not without a gallant bow to the girl he’d been flirting with and a pout for Tim. Didn’t he understand that Tim was trying to protect him? “Is she your sister?” He whispered, nodding to Helena. His eyes scraped up and down Helena’s body and Tim’s insides did a funny twisty thing. He was probably just hungry, he thought. He wasn’t… jealous. No, that would be stupid. 

“No. But also, no.”

“Aw, why not? Let her decide for herself!”

“First of all, you’re too young for her. Secondly, we’re here to find a place to crash before we continue onto the Fortress, remember? We don’t have time for… that.” Tim waved a hand to Helena. 

“Oh, Captain. There’s always time for-” Prince Conner imitated Tim with an amused smile, “’that.’” 

Tim ignored His Highness. Helena led them into the kitchen where Dick was sitting at a table doing exactly what Helena had said he was doing. “Dick, your brother came for a visit.” She said. Dick turned and Helena flicked him the Bat-token that Tim had handed to her. He glanced at it and his eyes flickered up to Tim and Prince Conner. A smile broke out on his face. 

“Brotherling!” He cried. He jumped up and ran over to wrap Tim in a giant bear hug. Prince Conner chuckled over Dick’s shoulder and Tim glared at him while he endured Dick’s enthusiasm. Dick finally set Tim down and his eyes stayed on Tim’s though Tim knew that he was fully aware of His Highness’s every breath. “What brings you here?”

“We need a place to stay. Can you put us up for the night?” Tim asked, wary of the cook in the corner. 

Dick’s face fell. “We’re all booked up, but I can give you a maid’s quarters. Tight rooming, but it’s still a roof.” Dick followed Tim’s eyes to the cook and nodded discreetly. So they were safe to speak freely in front of him. 

“We’ll take it.” Tim said when Prince Conner opened his mouth to protest. 

“Let’s get you settled in. Tiger will make you some of our best parts of the menu,” Dick said to the cook who just shrugged. Dick took one of Tim’s hands and began leading him to the room they’d been staying in. Dick finally turned to Prince Conner as they walked. “Who’s your… grubby friend?” 

“The prince.” Tim said. Prince Conner’s head whipped around to him. 

“I thought we were keeping a low profile.” Prince Conner said, eyes narrow. 

“Dick can keep a secret.” Tim asked. Dick raised an eyebrow, and Tim shook his head. He still hadn’t told His Highness about the Order of the Bat, just that Dick was his brother and would keep them safe. Krypton, His Highness still thought that Tim’s name was Alvin Draper. 

Dick made a face to tell Tim just what he thought about Tim’s methods but Tim ignored it. “Is it true, what they say?” Dick asked Prince Conner as they reached the door. Dick took a keyring out of his pocket and unlocked the small room. “You’re really a Kryptonian?” 

The door looked like it had been shoved in between cupboards. The room itself was small and had a sloped wooden roof. While the door’s hinges squeaked, the floorboard, Tim noticed appreciatively, did not. It was right under the hearth, Tim could tell, so it was relatively warm. There was one window up by the ceiling of the room, so they could see the snow fall outside. A small door presumably led to a privy and bath. Tim would fill it later for His Highness. It would be a good test of his magic to see if Prince Conner could warm it up for himself. 

“That’s what they say.” Prince Conner said glumly. He was clearly trying to copy Dick’s accent like Tim had told him to try, but his highborn lit still crept through. Maybe Tim would just have to keep him mute the whole journey. Not that Tim would mind that. Prince Conner walked into the room, frowning. 

“Like I said—it’s small. I know it’s not royal, but-”

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Dick.”

“Of course, Al.” Dick said. Tim’s fake name sounded weird coming from Dick’s lips. “We need to catch up.” He said, poking Tim.  He glanced meaningfully at Prince Conner who’s back was turned to them. His Highness was inspecting the room, hands in his pockets. He walked soundlessly across the floor-something Tim hadn’t known he could do. All Prince Conner ever seemed to do was stomp. 

“Of course. Maybe later.”

“Should I fill the bath?” Dick asked. “I can send Helena to-”

“I’ll do it. But thank you.”

That was when Tim noticed the single bed. Tim would sleep on the floor then. 

Dick noticed it at the same time and a worried look came over his face. “I’d forgotten. I’ll pull some blankets from a guest. Just say that we ran out-”

“No.” Tim argued. He didn’t want to inconvenience Dick any more than he already had. “I’ll just sleep on our clothes. Besides, it’s warm here from the hearth so I won’t need any as actual blankets. I’ll be fine.”

“Al-”

“I mean it, Dick. Don’t lie to a guest for our sakes. Really, I have enough scarves on my body that I’ll have enough. What you’ve done is enough. Thank you.”

Prince Conner finally seemed to have noticed the single bed. He looked at Tim. Dick gave Tim an exasperated look. “I’m not a terrible host. I’d offer my own bed, but I won’t be the only one sleeping in it tonight...” Dick grinned sheepishly. “Alfie would kill me if I didn’t at least offer some of my own blankets though to make your little nest.” Tim began to object when Dick shut him down with a look. “I’ll be right back. Settle in.”

Dick turned and left, closing the door behind him. Prince Conner eyed the bed. “You can take it.” He said. And Tim wondered if that was the first time that Prince Conner had ever offered something to Tim. It didn’t matter though because the point was mute. Tim wasn’t taking the bed. 

“You’re the prince. You take it.” Tim said. 

“If we get attacked you’re the one who’s going to save me, right Captain?” Prince Conner asked. He made no move to change. He watched Tim though. His face was stony. “You need to be well rested. You take the bed.”

Tim snorted. “Like you could ever sleep in anything less than a feather mattress. Take the bed, your Highness. I’m used to the floor.”

“Hey! I’ve slept on the floor before!” Prince Conner argued. 

“I very much doubt that what you were doing on that floor was sleeping.” Tim snapped. “Just take the cursed bed. This isn’t a discussion.”

Prince Conner bit the inside of his cheek. He sat on the bed, continuing to watch as Tim began creating his little nest for the night. “You know, when you said ‘Hey Conner, let’s run for your life together, won’t that be fun?’ This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” 

It hadn’t happened like that. “Well, running from your father’s assassins isn’t exactly my idea of a good time either, your Highness.”

“Stop calling me that.” 

“Calling you what, your highness?”

“That. ‘Your highness’. I’m the prince of nothing now.” Prince Conner grumbled. He kicked off his boots and curled up on the bed. 

Tim took an inventory of his weapons. Throwing knives, his short sword, two daggers from Bruce, his official Captain of the Guard knife. He’d probably have to get rid of that. It could identify them if someone saw the sigil. Tim hesitated. It meant something to him. A show of how far he’d come by himself, with no help from the Order of the Bat. 

“You’re still the Prince-”

“My father-King Lex wants me dead because I’ve shown a stupid small sign of a possibility of Kryptonian Magic. Which-by the way-I have shown no other signs of. I have been disowned. I have no kingdom. My people want me dead. I have to slum in squalor and hide and run to a place I’ve never known. I am no prince.”

“You’re still my Prince, your Highness.” Tim said. Prince Conner’s eyes shot up. “You will get your kingdom back. We will dethrone your father, and you will take your rightful place, your highness. That’s how it’s destined to be. You’re a Kryptonian.”

“Maybe-”

Tim didn’t want to have this argument again. He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Highness-"

"No. Maybe. Maybe. Don't lie to Draper, you're not good at it." Tim winced. If only His Highness really knew. "I showed one sign of possibly being a Kryptonian. My father found out, because I'm an idiot and told him, and now he's trying to kill me because he's so cursedly paranoid of being unseated by a prophesy of a Kryptonian taking his country that he would rather have me killed than think I have any of their blood in me. When we get to the Fortress chances are I won't even be able to do anything once we're there because it was an… accident! A spark from somewhere that lit that curtain on fire! I mean I haven't be able to produce any other magic this entire trip and by god we had needed it two nights ago-"

"Highness." Tim snapped. Prince Conner turned to him sharply. Tim sat on the edge of the bed, taking Prince Conner's face in his hands. "You're a Kryptonian, and I know you're scared and I know you just want to rewind the clock but you can't do that now." He said, his voice slow and steady. Prince Conner looked like he was going to cry. "Take a deep breath." Conner inhaled shakily. "Good, now another one." Again His Highness did as Tim ordered. "I know you're scared, but I'm going to keep you safe, okay? That's my job. I'd rather die than fail. Have you ever known me to fail?" Prince Conner shook his head. "I am going to keep you safe. I am going to get you to the Fortress to train. And even if you aren't a Kryptonian, you're going to learn how to fight and how to lead. And then, I am going to help you unseat your tyrant of a father and take your rightful place on his throne and you are going to be alright. Okay?"

Prince Conner nodded slowly. 

"You say I'm a terrible liar, do I look like I'm lying to you?" Conner shook his head. 

The door opened and Dick walked in, arms full of blankets. "Oh-!" He said softly when he saw them. Tim pulled away from Conner, willing himself not to flush. "Am I interrupting something?"

Prince Conner gave Dick a winning smile and replied in his horrible low-class accent: "Just your brother's rousing call-to-arms."

Dick winced. "Wow," he told Tim as Tim took the blankets from him, "his accent is really bad." To which Prince Conner pouted. "You have your work cut out for you."

"I know." Tim replied to protests from Prince Conner. 

"If there's anything else-"

"Just food I think," Tim said gratefully. "Thanks for everything Dick-"

"Seriously, Al. Not a problem. You know that." Dick waved to Prince Conner before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Tim dropped the blankets on the ground and began making a little nest for himself to sleep in. "So…" Prince Conner said, picking at the fraying blanket on the bed. "Why didn't you ever tell me you had a brother? You know, before."

Tim didn't look up from the blankets. "I don't know. I guess you never asked. You're my boss, Highness, my past life never really seemed like something to talk about."

Prince Conner was quiet for a moment. It was so out of character that Tim looked up at him. "What?" 

"Were." His Highness said. 

"What?"

"Were, Alvin. Maybe I’ll be your prince again some day, but I think that at this point I'm no longer your boss-"

Tim snorted, cutting Prince Conner off. "I'm going to draw some water from the well."

"What? Now? It's death out there!"

"We both need a bath, Highness. I'm getting water. Eat something while I'm gone." He righted his scarf around himself and grabbed a water bucket from the privy. 

The wind outside hadn't died down, and it was barely light enough to see anything, if you could get through the layers of snow which fell fast. 

Tim managed to make it to the well and chip off the top level of ice enough that he could dunk the bucket in and fill it. 

The water was freezing. Tim's fingers were wet through the gloves and felt as though they'd fall off from the wind hitting them. He trudged on, further filling the bucket and returning to the inn and privy three more times. It gave him time to breathe and think. They'd need to travel quickly to get to the Fortress. After Conner fell asleep he'd plan out their route with Dick. Unfortunately they wouldn't be able to stay every night in a BatHouse but they'd want to hit as many as possible on their way up north. Even in Bruce's Kingdom they wouldn't be safe, and they'd have other issues too, like the manic bounty hunters and bandits that no doubt have heard that Conner has been chased out of his land. 

The final time he arrived with the bucket Prince Conner had finished his own dinner and was watching Tim expectantly. 

"What?" Tim asked as he poured the water into the tub and then began taking off his outer layer of clothing. 

"You know, I don't need to-" Prince Conner waved vaguely to the tub. 

"Maybe you don't, or think you don't," Tim wrinkled his nose, "but I certainly do. Come here."

Prince Conner walked over, confused by the order. "Why?" He asked. 

Tim nodded to the tub. "Unless you want to bathe in ice cold water, heat it up."

His Highness blinked. "You mean… use my…"

"Yes, your magic."

"I can't do that!"

"I'm pretty sure you can, in fact, set things on fire-"

"I did that once! One time!" 

"You set a house on fire."

"It was just the curtains!"

"Maybe at first. But the entire building did burn down, whether you burnt it yourself or not."

That earned Tim a scowl. Tim just rolled his eyes. "Heat up the water."

"How?" Prince Conner demanded. "I've only ever done it once and every time I've tried since then I've gotten nothing!"

"Maybe by yourself, but now you have me to help you and an ice cold bath as encouragement. Let's recreate what you were doing when it happened-"

Prince Conner grinned at him. "At least buy me dinner first, Captain."

It wasn't that Tim didn't know the specifics of their last night in the castle. He did, and he knew exactly what (read: who) His Highness had been doing that night, so Tim just rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant, your Highness."

The Prince may have known what Tim meant but he clearly didn't like it. His ears turned pink and he cleared his throat. "Do-do I have to?"

"If you feeling hot and bothered is how we're going to begin getting a grasp on your magic, then yeah. You have to."

Prince Conner turned towards the water. He glared at it intensely as Tim watched, arms crossed. A minute or so passed before he turned to Tim and said: "I can't do it when you're watching."

"What?"

"It feels like you're judging me."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Fine." He turned around. "Better?" He asked. 

"Well, no, not really. But whatever." Prince Conner pouted. They waited in silence again for about a minute before Tim said: "Are you even trying-?"

"Yes! I'm trying! But I can still feel you judging me!"

Tim scowled at the wall. "Well? What do you want me to do? I can't just change the way you perceive me."

"I don't know," the rebuttal came out as more of a whine, "sing or something."

Tim snorted. "Oh you do not want me to sing."

The Prince mumbled something under his breath. "What?" Tim asked. 

"Nothing. Just… talk or something then?"

Tim shifted from foot to foot. "Fine. What do you want me to talk about?"

"How about the Not-Sister of yours?" 

Tim was surprised, and he felt something painful ache in his chest, though he had no idea why. "Helena? Why?"

"I don't know. Why not?"

"There's not much to say about her. She's just kind of… Helena. She's a family friend. She works with Dick." 

"How'd you meet?" 

"Like I said, family friend."

"Well, I don't really know anything about your family either." 

What could he tell Conner without mentioning the Order of the Bat or Bruce? "I’ve got a bunch of siblings. Dad always liked taking in strays."

"Well, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Me. This."

Tim was quiet for a moment. "You know I'm not… I'm doing this just to get you on the throne or Lex off. Or out of some sort of twisted… obligation to you. I genuinely believe in you. I believe you would be a good king. You're not a… burden. Or a means to an end. You're not a stray. I chose to be by your side and keep you safe."

Prince Conner must have been uncomfortable because then he said: "Tell me more about your family."

"Why?" 

"I hardly know anything about you."

"But is this… helping?" In case Conner had forgotten why they were doing this in the first place. 

"Well…" Conner admitted sheepishly. "Maybe talking about Dick would but-"

"Ew!"

"Oh come on Vinnie, he's clearly… you know,"

"He's my brother and we're changing the subject now, Highness."

"Whatever you say, Captain." Tim heard Conner snicker. 

"How about we talk about Tana? She's what started this, isn't she?"

Conner was quiet for a moment. "I don't want to talk about her."

"Okay, then what?"

"Look, clearly this isn't working. Let's just freeze our balls off in the bath and then-"

"I really think-"

"Alvin, it's not happening." 

Tim sighed, turning back around. "Fine. We'll try again another day. You're probably just tired." 

But Prince Conner didn't sound as hopeful. "Yeah. Whatever."

"You bathe first. I'll get something to eat."

"Fine."

Tim turned, casting one last look at Prince Conner who looked miserable, and then walked out into the kitchen to eat.

Tiger heated him up some stew and bread, and Tim ate so fast he thought he'd be sick. It was good, and Tim hadn't realized until now how hungry he was.

"Don't puke now." Dick. 

Tim patted the seat next to him, and Dick sat, stealing some stew with a lump of bread. "So little brother… the Prince, huh?"

"Luthor wanted to kill him." Tim responded between bites. 

"And he's calling you 'Alvin'."

"Well, I couldn't just use my real name."

"Tim."

"I was undercover, Dick."

"I know! But you still haven't told him?"

"He's just had his whole world flipped upside down. His father is trying to kill him and suddenly his boring old Captain of the Guard is taking him by the hand and telling him that he knows where the last Kryptonian stronghold is and that we have to run there now or his father will succeed. Adding the whole 'oh by the way I'm actually Prince Tim Wayne from the Kingdom of Gotham, yeah that Kingdom of Gotham that's constantly on the verge of war with your Metropolis! Oh! And get this, I'm actually a spy who's been working for the underground Order of the Bat to unseat Lex the Tyrant for as long as you've known me, which has been a pretty long time, if I do say so myself' didn't really seem like something he needed to deal with at that moment."

"Tim.. you have to tell him." Tim opened his mouth to argue but Dick cut him off. "Maybe not all of it, but definitely the part about the Order."

"You really want… him to know about the Order?"

"Again, not all of it. Just that… you're in it. What we want to do."

"I don't want him to think I'm using him." 

"You're using him just as much as he's using you. Besides, telling him is you really not using him. You're telling him what he's getting into, now he has a choice."

"I suppose you're right." Tim mumbled. He picked at the chunk of bread in his hands. 

"So he's really a Kryptonian? The rumors are true?" Even Tiger seemed interested to know. Tim nodded. 

"I was there for some of it. He lit the house on fire with his eyes."

A silence settled over the room. "Tim." Dick said at last, "just… be careful."

Tim snorted. "Please, he can't even summon a heat-shimmer, he won't hurt me."

"I thought you said he burned down a building." Tiger interrupted. 

"He did. But he still doesn't know how to trigger it yet, so we probably won't get anywhere soon." Tiger made a disapproving face, as if Prince Conner's inability to create a spark was Tim's fault. "I'm working with him on it."

"Kryptonians don't just have fire magic though." Dick protested.

"You mean the mythical strength? The invulnerability? Breath of ice? I know, Dick. I'm being careful. Promise."

Dick seemed comforted enough for now because he relented.

"Listen, I actually need your help with something," Dick's eyes lit up, "can you get a map? I want to plot our course."

~~~

Tim crept into the room hours later. The oil lamps still burned so Tim made his way to the privy for a quick bath. The water was warmer now, but still colder than Tim would have liked or was used to. He scrubbed himself quickly, ridding himself of the mud and grime from the road. He'd crawl back into his clothes and then into his… nest. 

His and Dick's route looked actually doable. Tim has been surprised to see how little they would have to find places to sleep on their own. A couple times they'd have to sleep on the road, but Tim could do that. And if Tim could then Prince Conner would, whether he liked it or not. 

He climbed out of the bath and crept into the room, wrapped in his towel. The room was warm enough. Tim's toes and fingers were cold, but he wasn't freezing. He dressed and then dried his hair. 

Prince Conner slept soundly, his handsome face once again clean from dirt and mud. Tim would have to redo his disguise before they left, anyone as pretty as the Prince would bring them unwanted notice, even if the people didn't recognize him.

The physique would be a little harder to hide. Tim was tempted to put a rock in his shoe to give him a limp or some other misidentifying feature but Prince Conner needed to be able to run at a word so they couldn't do that. 

Prince Conner's eyes were squeezed shut, his hands clenching the inn's blanket, he was bunched over and curled up. The firelight flickered shadows across his face. Tonight he'd probably have a nightmare, if it got bad enough Tim would wake him up. 

Tim tiptoed over to the oil lamps and put them out, before returning to his nest. He pulled one of his scarf-blankets over his toes and shifted on his scarf-pillow. Tim fell asleep thinking of the many ways he could hide Conner's beautiful features. Conner really was giving Bruce's disguise tactics a run for their money, huh?

~~~

Prince Conner was making noises.  A small whimper or whine would escape his mouth occasionally. His eyes were still closed, his hands clenched and his toes curled. 

Tim woke up freezing. Conner's nightmares must have started. He felt around in the dark for Conner's bed. His fingers were numb from the cold and he was shivering. Clearly whatever hearth sat above them had gone out for the night. Tim blinked a couple times before realizing he could make out something vague in the night. Which... shouldn't have been possible.  

Two pinpoints of dim brightness. 

His Highness made a sound in the back of his throat. At least he didn't sleep talk, and his nightmares didn't make him scream. 

Tim felt his way up to the bed, only barely able to see anything from the glow where Conner was. 

"Highness?" Tim asked, nudging Conner gently. 

Prince Conner sucked in a breath, and made a small noise. The glow brightened and Tim noticed that it was coming from his closed eyes. 

"Prince Conner? Your highness? It's okay, it's just a dream." He touched Prince Conner's temple. 

His Highness had always run hot. Touching him was like sticking your hand in warm wool. Always had been. Tonight though, Prince Conner's forehead was warmer than usual. Not hot enough to be a fever but-

Prince Conner made a different noise. This one deep and breathy. Tim frowned. Was he having… trouble breathing?

"Your Highness!" He gave Prince Conner a sharp poke. Still he didn't wake up. "Conner." This time Tim pinched his check (the only part of Prince Conner he could really see). 

Prince Conner's hips buckled and at once Prince Conner was awake, and his eyes were open and Tim was being roughly pushed back as fire poured from his eyes. 

His Highness shut them quickly. Tim stared, mouth open. Sure, he'd seen it before but not even remotely this closely. For a minute the room was warm and there was a brilliant flash of light and in the next, it was cold and dark again, but there was an added smell of scorched wood and Prince Conner's heavy breathing. 

"Stop. Stop stop stop stop stop stopstopstop." Prince Conner chanted, his hands over his eyes, extinguishing the light in the room.

But how could he use his heat magic if he was having a nightmare? It was only triggered (to Tim's knowledge) by-

Oh. 

The sounds, the way Prince Conner reacted to being woken up… 

"Good dream?" He asked lamely. 

If Prince Conner could glare at him without frying him, Tim was sure he would. 

Tim shivered. It was freezing in here. 

"I don't want to talk about it. Why would you wake me up?" Prince Conner snarled. 

"I thought you were having a nightmare." Tim wanted to keep his fingers on His Highness' skin. He was so warm and Tim was so cold. Tim gently placed a hand unseeingly somewhere on his torso when Prince Conner hissed and pushed away, breaking contact. His heavy breathing was one of the few sounds in the room.

"Just-Just give me a minute." He begged. He huddled on the other side of the bed, eyes still covered until he managed to catch his breath. 

"If you need to-" Tim waved vaguely even though His Highness couldn't see it, "I can leave-" 

"No." So Tim stayed put. "I'm-I'm fine. I just.. I'll be right back." Prince Conner scrambled out of the bed, knocking over things and stumbling his way to the privy where the old bathwater sat. There was a sharp noise and a brightness that burned Tim's eyes, and Prince Conner hacked out a cough as Tim saw a puff of steam waft out the door before the light was gone once again. 

"Well." His Highness said from the privy. "The bathwater's hot now."

Tim couldn't help but snicker which turned into a full body shiver. Maybe a hot bath wasn't such a bad idea. 

After a small amount of time, Tim was about to go into the privy to check on Prince Conner (and maybe that bath, which would hopefully still be warm) when His Highness stumbled out. It took Tim a moment to realize what exactly Prince Conner had to have been doing in there that had taken so long. Tim was glad of two things, first that the darkness hid his full face blush, and second, that he had decided to stay put. 

Prince Conner tripped over Tim's nest as he made his noisy way back to the bed. "I'm sorry for waking you."

The was a second then: "I'm glad you did. Imagine if I don't know… overheated them, and then BAM! my eyes and the whole room explode."

"Kryptonians are super strong, remember? Also invulnerable."

"Ah yes, but small, angry, scary, and frankly mysterious Captains of the Guard aren't generally, or is there something you'd like to tell me?" He said, fumbling over to the bed. Prince Conner's warm hands patted the air and Tim's face as he tried to figure out where he was. Tim took his forearms and led him to the bed, sitting him down.

His Highness sat. Tim felt his legs brush Tim's own. 

Tim still hadn't let go of Prince Conner's arms, warmth flooding through them. 

"Wow." His Highness hissed. "Al, your fingers are fucking freezing." He took Tim's hands in his own and brought them closer, placing them in his… was that his armpit? 

"Ew." 

"Krypton, is all of you this cold? Come here."

Tim tried to pull his hands back but Prince Conner strongarmed him into an odd hug of a sort. His warm body pressing against Tim's. "Armpits are some of the warmest parts of the body." Prince Conner argued. He was right, of course, but it still grossed Tim out. Or, well, it should have. But there was something… inexplicably comforting about the whole ordeal. Something Tim didn't really want to examine much further. 

"Please release me, your Highness. We should really go back to sleep-"

"Uh uh. No way you're going back to sleeping on the ground." Tim could feel Prince Conner's breath by his ear. Tim shook and he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or… something else. 

The cold. It was the cold. 

"And freeze to death? I don't think so. We'll manage on the bed. And-What the fuck?" He'd pulled Tim close enough that Tim's feet had brushed up against the inside of His Highness's thighs (which were, for anyone who cares, so warm that Tim wanted to curl up between them--not that he would. He was-it was just warm. That was all). 

"See, you don't want to share a be-" Tim said already pulling out of Prince Conner's embrace, ignoring the way something in his belly plummeted. 

"Nope. Not getting out of here that fast-" Prince Conner reeled him back in, legs tangled in his, arms and fingers intertwined. So close Tim could smell him and his-

Tim tried to break the hold. He should have been able to. Prince Conner was strong and athletic for sure but Tim had always been stronger than him. It was his job to be. But Tim couldn't break free. "Highness, let go." He didn't, he just held Tim tighter. "Highness-Conner you're hurting me." 

There was a gasp and immediately Tim was released. "I'm what? I can't be- But- You're-"

"Clearly some of that Kryptonian strength." Tim mumbled, rubbing at his wrists. 

"Oh Krypton, Alvin I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright, Highness. You're still learning your own strength." Tim said. But really his mind was more focused on the fact that without… cuddling… His Highness like they'd been, Tim was shivering again. "Where are you? Come back." Tim mumbled, reaching out with hand until he found Prince Conner. 

"I don't want to hurt you. The last thing I want is to hurt you Al-" He brushed Tim's hand away.

Tim's teeth were chattering now. "You know now. It's fine, really. Come back, I'm freezing."

As if drawn to his words like a fly to honey, he was back in Prince Conner's arms. Only this time he was barely being held. As if he would break if Prince Conner breathed too hard. 

Tim took a deep breath as the warmth settled in his bones. "Okay." He finally ordered himself to say. "Okay. Okay. Time to head back to bed. We need to sleep." He began pulling himself out of His Highness's hold when protests arose again. "No! What part of you're so cold that you're shaking aren't you getting! You're sleeping with me in the bed! Deal with it!"

"Highness, the bed is tiny." And you're… you. 

"Alvin. Think of it as an order from your prince. Get in the bed."

Tim scowled at him (not that Prince Conner could see it in the dark) and snapped: "Fine."

As soon as he laid down on the bed, huddling close to the Prince for warmth, he felt his eyes begin to droop closed. He felt warm and Prince Conner was a little bit soft. Tim rested his head on Prince Conner's shoulder, practically on top of him. The blanket at his back. He could feel His Highness shifting beneath him to get comfortable. 

"When we get back to the Capital, you tell my men that we cuddled and I'll make sure you wished you were killed by assassins." Tim grumbled to him, momentarily forgetting that after Lex was defeated, he wouldn't be heading back to Metropolis. He had his own Kingdom to help run. 

"I promise Alvin, your reputation is safe with me."

Tim yawned loudly. "Tim." He said.

"What?"

"My name," he mumbled into Conner's chest, "is Tim." And then he fell asleep.

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Zatanna’s Mistake

I wrote this a long time ago, and between editing it and writing it we ot the news o the new series, so I saved it until premiere, and then yesterday Tungle.hell wouldn’t post this, so here it is. Just something stupid and fun. 

Takes place at the beginning of the 5 years. 

ao3    ffn

Zatanna blinked her eyes open, hesitantly. She knew her spell has worked; she could feel it. But after much tinkering, this was the first time. The spell has been an idea posed by Kaldur’ahm, who wanted a surefire way to gather everyone instantaneously.

Zatanna’s eyes widened and she stared openly at the result of her spell. The group of teens which she had produced stared back, the only problem? They weren’t the teens she had wanted to summon.

“Oh no.” She breathed as they looked around, taking in their surroundings. “I have made a huge mistake.”

One of the boys from the group (who looked alarmingly like Robin, down to a stylized R on his chest) frowned. “I don’t think we’re in the Catskills anymore.”

“WHAT THE FRAG?” Another one of them with white skin and black markings yelled.

One of the girls with a large Wonder Woman style w, squinted her eyes. “Rob… I think we’re back at Mount Justice.”

Zatanna did the first thing that came to mind. “KALDUR!” She yelled.

The team of costumed teens stared at her for a moment. “Who’s Kaldur?” The one with floppy hair and a white and red suit asked.

“Computer, alert the team, we have visitors.” Zatanna called to the air. “KALDUR!”

“Who are you?” The Wonder Woman wannabe asked. “Why have you brought us here?” The team behind her tensed, hands going to weapons (for the two of them that had). Zatanna had a feeling that a good chunk of them had powers too.

“My name is Zatanna, I’m really sorry! I brought you guys here by accident! I was trying to work on a summoning spell for my own team when-“

“Did you say your name was Zatanna?” The Robin look-alike asked. He frowned. “But you’re so… young.”

“Huh?”

“Well where we come from… oh.” The Robin turned to the Wonder Woman. “Oh.”

“’Oh’, what? Robin, you know I hate when you do that.” The Wonder Woman girl asked. She crossed her arms over her black top, covering the view of the W.

“Do the names Robin and Batman mean anything to you?” Robin (their Robin. They had a Robin. That girl had called him Robin so he had to be) said.

“Uh… yeah. Why did she call you Robin?”

Robin and the girl exchanged looks. “This is going to sound insane, but I think we somehow teleported into another dimension. Or another Earth at least.”

No. That… actually wasn’t insane. Oh, man. This was a disaster. Heavy on the dis.

“And I’m really sorry about that.” Zatanna apologized.

“What are you sorry about, Zatanna?” Kaldur asked as he entered the zeta room. He stopped short and processed the situation. He recovered quickly, weapons in hand.

There was a blast of air and a flash of lightning and the floofy haired kid had Kaldur’s wands in his hands. “You have super speed.” It wasn’t a question.

The boy looked at his hands and then back at Kaldur and Zatanna. “Well, duh.” The kid looked back at his friends. “Isn’t that obvious?”

Zatanna heard the pounding of footsteps. Her teammates. “Imp, give the gilled man back his stick things.” The Wonder Woman girl ordered. The boy, Imp, pouted but in a flash the wands were back in Kaldur’s hand.

Kaldur studied the group. There were eight of them. Three girls, five boys. Imp, the speedster, wore a red and white costume with goggles rimmed in red. He had ear pieces looked like lightning, Kaldur frowned, very Flash if he did say so himself. Kaldur couldn’t help but notice the large golden Ws on the girl’s chest, she who had ordered the Flash-esque boy. The gold stood out on the black sleeveless shirt, matched with the bright red pants. She wore goggles too, but they looked more like sports goggles than the ones Imp wore, and they rested on the top of her blond hair. The other girls caught Kaldur’s eye, one looked like she was made of mist and the other had a golden scale like costume on that made Kaldur wonder how it could possibly be protective. The girl with the golden scaled costume had a hand resting on one of her swords that was strung onto her hip.  Speaking of gold, the boy with the large golden helmet looked familiar. Kaldur was sure he’d seen a similar costume design before, but he couldn’t place it.

“What the frag are you staring at, Blondie?” The short white skinned one snapped. The yellow eyes didn’t look like lenses which made Kaldur wonder if he was an alien. The Wonder Woman girl glared at him.

That brought him to the most familiar of the two, the one who looked like Robin; and the one who had a large S shield on his chest. But he would have to muse about that later because at that moment someone screamed.

The S-shield boy, Robin, and the Wonder Woman girl exchanged looks. “That sounded like…” S-Shield began.

The Wonder Woman girl groaned. “She’s going to kill us.” There was a loud crash and the visitors collectively flinched.

“Yeah.” Robin agreed. “Totally going to kill us.” The Wonder Woman girl took off running and the team followed her. Zatanna shrugged at Kaldur and tried to ignore the ‘we are going to talk about this later’ look he had on his face. The two of them followed the surprise guests.

They didn’t have to run far.  In the kitchen they found Connor trying to attack something while M’Gann, Wally, and Artemis tried to hold him back. Zatanna squinted at the victim of Connor’s aggression who was curled up on the other side of the couch, only had head of blonde hair visible. Make that a someone. “Wally! Connor! Stop!” Zatanna shouted.

“Hey Zee.” Wally greeted. “Is she what you meant when you said ‘visitors’?”

“What? I don’t know who ‘she’ is!” Zatanna answered.

“Uncle Wally?” Imp asked, eyes wide. He zipped up to Wally and ran around him in circles. “This world has you too? That’s so cool! Who knew you were multi-earth-dimensional or whatever is happening right now. Hey what is happening right now? We never really covered that and-“

“Imp!” W called.

“Robin-B-Zero-One.” The Zeta teleporter announced.

Robin ran into the kitchen. “Hey Zee! Heard that-“ Robin stopped short. “This… is not good. What’s going on?” He said.

“Huh.” Their Robin said, surveying Zatanna’s Robin.

Connor growled and tried to free himself from M’Gann and Artemis’s hold. “She attacked me first!”

“I did not!” The blonde head behind the couch shouted indignantly. “I fell out of the sky into somewhere which isn’t my gym class! If anything, I’m the victim here!”

W chewed on her lip. “Cissie, can you come out?”

The blonde head popped up at the name. The girl attached to it wore a gym uniform (t-shirt, and shorts) with the words Saint Elias School for Girls stitched into the upper left corner.  She smoothed out her long blonde hair and her eyes widened. “You!” She cried. W, Robin, S shield, and Imp looked bashful at the comment. “This-This is your fault! All of this is your fault! Can’t you for once not drag me into whatever interplanetary crisis you’re dealing with? First interplanetary baseball, then Apokolips, you guys know I have school, right?”

Baseball? Apocalypse?

Interplanetary baseball? Zatanna heard over a psychic link that M’Gann must have decided to set up.

Dude, why don’t we ever play interplanetary baseball?

Because you suck at baseball.

Nuh-uh!

Guys, Artemis interrupted Robin and Wally’s argument, not really the point.

“This time it wasn’t our fault Cissie!” Imp defended. He pointed to Zatanna. “It was hers! She said so herself.”

Cissie took a breath. “Oh. Sorry.” But she didn’t seem to be angry anymore. Everyone in the room turned to look at Zatanna.

Zatanna smiled sheepishly. “Zatanna?” M’Gann prompted.

“So, you guys know how Kaldur wanted me to work on that summoning spell so we could get everyone in the team somewhere at once?” Zatanna’s teammates nodded. “So, I finally figured out the wording, see ‘cuz I couldn’t just say ‘tropelet eht maet ereh’ ‘cuz that’s not specific enough so the magic wouldn’t be able to tell who I was talking about so I tried assigning the team a name or a keyword, and I did! I guess, magic just figured I was talking about them when I used the words Young Justice…”

“Well, that’s because that’s our team name.” W explained.

“And you are…?” Wally asked.

“Oh! I’m Wonder Girl, this is Robin, Superboy,” she said pointing to S-shield, Connor scowled, “Impulse,” she pointed to Imp, “Slowbo,” she pointed to white-skin-black-markings, “Empress,” she pointed to the girl with the stern expression and a golden scaly suit with a purple dress thing, “Ray,” she pointed to golden helmet, “and Secret.” She pointed to the misty girl.

Zatanna glanced at Artemis who was sharing the same expression as her. Secret? Like Greta Hayes?

“Wait, if it teleported everyone who was on Young Justice then why did it teleport you?” Connor asked Cissie.

“I used to be on their team, but I retired. My superhero name was Arrowette.”

“Creative.” Artemis snorted.

“Oh yeah? What’s your superhero name, Green Arrow wannabe?” Cissie said crossing her arms over her chest.

Artemis glared at her and Wally shrugged. “Y’know, she has a point Artemis.” Artemis turned her glare to her boyfriend.

“So your name is Superboy?” M’Gann asked. Their Superboy nodded warily.

“Miss Martian?” Their Robin asked.

M’Gann jumped. “How do you my name?”

“We have one of you on our Earth. And you’re Wally West.” Their Robin said, pointing to the redhead.

“You have a me too?” Wally asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah!”

Robin stared at his double intently. “Do they know?” He asked the other. Their Robin nodded.

“You?” He asked. Robin shook his head.

“’Do they know’ what?” Rocket whispered to Artemis. Artemis shrugged.

The Robins continued their staring match, until Robin finally said. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah. Definitely.” The Other Robin agreed. The two of them broke off slightly from the group and the other teams stood there dumbly.

I’m confused. M’Gann said through the telepathic link. What just happened?

Your guess is as good as mine. Artemis replied.

“So, are we going to be able to get back?” Cissie asked, arms crossed. “I just want to know ‘cuz I have a term paper due.”

“Zatanna?” Kaldur asked. Everyone turned to look at her again.

“Um…” Zatanna actually didn’t know. She could always do an ‘undo’ spell but those were hard and generally took a lot out of her, which she didn’t have right now. She could try and formulate a new spell, but that might just backfire as well. “That’s a really good question.”

“We’re stuck here, aren’t we?” Their Superboy groaned.

“No! I can get you back to your own Earth! I can!” Zatanna promised. “I just… don’t know how yet.”

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Hannukah Gift 2018 Masterlist

ao3

First Night: 

Rhysands-Highlady: Rhysand’s Winter Wonderland

Second Night:

PrincessCochlea: The Perfect Date

Third Night:

Librarian-Of-Orynth: Festival of Lights and Oil

Fourth Night:

Timdrakeothy: February Blues

Fifth Night:

SoftLucien: The Boy Next Door: A New Year’s Tradition

Sixth Night:

SuperSpoiler: For the Girl who Has... 

Seventh Night:

Daryl-Dixons-Poncho: The Villain

Eighth Night:

LesbianStargirl: New Friends in the Strangest Places

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Commissions

Hey guys, so I’m opening up writing commissions. (Yaaaay!)

Things I won’t write:

Smut

Incest/Pedophilia/etc (this includes adoptive family members guys ….. ew).

Abuse*

Bigotry*

Things I will write:

OCs

Non-fanfiction (scripts, etc)

Fanfiction

&more….

Basic price would be $1 per 100 words. If a commission ends up 1299 words you only need to pay me $12. But again, case-by-case basis. I retain the right to change the price based on different aspects (dm me for details).

If you want me to write for a fandom I’m not in/something I don’t know anything about, the commission will take a little longer to finish because I’ll need to review source material.

Each commission is subject to negotiation over price and content. I retain the right to refuse service on a case-by-case basis.

Sooo yeah. Commission me if you like, I guess.

INQUIRES CAN DM ME OR EMAIL ME AT dianaraven@starways.net

* If, for instance, you want me to write a fanfic of an abused person facing their abuser, etc, dm me and we’ll talk… But for any want that isn’t a commentary or puts the act itself in a bad light I will probably refuse. Again, case by case basis.

**I reserve the right to refuse all pairings.

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Bingo Prompts Series Masterlist

All are Lucien-Centric unless otherwise specified. 

ao3

Rise Up

Summary: AU where Feyre died during the Task with the Wyrm.

Heat

Summary: Lucien has a hidden talent–massage.

Fire

Summary: Lucien uses fire, which is bad because Azriel gets triggered by being burned. Lucien makes a mistake. (This is also Azriel-centric).

In Case of Fire; Break Glass

Summary: Lucien tries to kill himself.

The Porcelain God

Summary: Lucien is having flashbacks.

Whipped

Summary: Missing scene of Tamlin whipping Lucien’s back in ACoTaR

On Deaf Ears

Summary: AU where Amarantha stole Lucien’s ears not his eye.

The Hidden Flame

Summary: Lucien hides an injury after the War with Hybern, but Vassa is there to catch him.

Fine, Just Fine

Summary: Cassian’s wings get infected after Hybern. (Cassian-Centric)

The Things We’ve Done

Summary: Kallias and Rhysand deal with Rhysand’s past actions. (Kallias-Centric)

Rhysand’s Guide to Rejection

Summary: Lucien asks Rhysand how to live with a Mate who rejects him.

The Wilting Rose Job:

Chapter One: Runaways

Summary: Leverage AU. In this chapter Lucien and Feyre run away from their abuser and into the arms of the Inner Circle gang, and begin their plan to get back at Tamlin. (Not all of the rest of the fic doesn’t have the theme of runaways but rather sticks with the theme of a Leverage AU. I am putting this on twice so that people who want to read all the bingo prompts can, even if they don’t care about the rest of the fic).

That Escalated Quickly

Summary: Elain and Lucien have their first and last fight. (Also Elain-centric).

Look at Yourself

Summary: Lucien’s abuse and a walk through of it. MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING

Baby Steps

Summary: Inspired by @birdiethebibliophile‘s Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed. Cassian walks Lucien through his recovery. (Modern AU)

Going Nova

Summary: Lucien has a fire building inside, and it hurts. 

BINGO!

[drawingsanddrabbles]

City of Stars

Originally I was going to write this as an introspective on Gotham after seeing La La Land, but then it became a birthday fic for Timmy so... Happy birthday bud. 

ao3     ffn    ko-fi     commission me

Conner doesn’t get it. He truly, honestly does not understand. And Tim thinks that that is okay, because, see, he isn’t the only one who doesn’t get it. Cassie and Bart don’t understand either. Neither does Gar, he thinks, nor Kori nor Vic. Raven might, she might understand. Rose can’t, no matter what universe she’s in she never would be able to. Sometimes he wonders if his friends from Young Justice would understand, he wonders about Anita and Ray. Anita, he is sure, does get it. Ray wouldn’t, nothing against him but it’s just not his thing. He doesn’t think Cissie could either, nor Greta. Not even sweet understanding little Traya could understand.

Gotham is beautiful. It’s doesn’t have the type of beauty that Metropolis claims, doesn’t have the right type of pull that Star or Hub City does. It’s not airy like Coast City or San Francisco. No. Instead it’s dark and grim and, truthfully, a little scary and very dangerous. But there’s one thing about it that is different than every other city on Earth. At night, when most people stare up at the sky to see the stars, all you have to do in Gotham is look down.

Okay, granted Tim’s being a little dramatic when he thinks that. But from where he is, up on the highest buildings in Gotham, when he looks down he sees the most beautiful thing in the world, he thinks. He sees a city of stars.

Despite her misgivings, Gotham has a sort of allure that no other city could ever have. Something so purely and beautifully Gotham that Tim almost doesn’t believe that the place in which he is living is real. Everything about her has this type of elegance sprinkled with stardust. Even, though he is loath to think it, the murders and crimes which happen on her streets. All the villains, be it Selina or Nygma or Harley or Dent, they all bring their own little sparkle to the city, making their own stars shine. For Fries it’s the snow and cold he colors her streets with, for Penguin it’s the glittering ice (both metaphoric and literal) that he works with.

Tim thinks the only people who could ever really truly get it are those who have already included theirselves in the sparkle of the city. And of course, by that he means the Bats. He means the way that Dick keeps returning, even after his many dramatic leaves of absence from the city. He means the way that Barbara can’t stay away, not even losing feeling in half her body could make her. He means the way that even Jason returned from death, to this city, these stars. He means the way that Bruce can never leave and the way that the city seems to breed so many vigilantes that Tim wonders why he’s even needed anymore. He means the way that he can never leave, not for long.

So when he walks on these rooftops he looks around him. He looks down at the city of his. At Gotham. He watches these stars as they twinkle in the night, their symphonic sirens crashing like nebulae, the swirl of the billboard colors and the neons and pastels that are worn by them, making them more vibrant than space could ever be. And Tim would know, he’s been to space.

“Hey Dude, what’s happening?”

Duke.

His Signal suit is so beautiful. So original. Nothing like anyone else’s here, and Tim loves that. He loves how Duke has come to his own, made Gotham his own, in a way that Tim never could, not even if he wanted to.

Unlike the rest of the Bats who keep trying, over and over to pull away from the universe that is Gotham, but never able to. Against all will and common sense, they keep orbiting back to her. Unlike all of them, Duke has taken Gotham in, embraced her in all he can, keeping her safe and pure in that special way that she totally isn’t. He embraced her as she was, and he blinds her, a supernova in a universe. So bright and beautiful and a long time coming, showing all that’s around just who he is. Going nova makes his biproducts, black holes and more nebulae, even deeper and brighter than himself (if that’s possible). Gotham’s daytime hero.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“It’s warm tonight.” He’s right. It is.

“Summer does that…” Duke gives Tim a laugh. “Okay,” Tim admits, “sometimes summer does that.”

Both of them are silent.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Stars.”

“Oh?” Duke raises an eyebrow.

“They’re pretty.”

“They sure are. Kinda always annoyed me that I couldn’t see them from here.”

“But you’d never leave, huh?”

“Never.” Duke pauses, staring up at the dusky sky. “I would like to go to space though. What’s it like?”

“Well, most times when I’m up there, there’s world saving going on.”

“So?”

“Yeah…” Tim says softly, “yeah, sometimes I looked around. It’s gorgeous. Stars and planets… nebulae… everything is so… beautiful.”

“But you wouldn’t leave here for the world?” Duke turns the question on Tim.

“Gotham is my home. Space is a nice place to visit and Gotham is a bad place to live, but when it comes to space on earth, Gotham is close enough.”

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Tim asks after another moment of silence. “You’re a daytime hero. The night is mine.”

“Possessive much?” Duke laughs. “You going to stay up here all night?”

“Why? You got plans?”

“No, you idiot. You do.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “I… do?”

Duke smiles. “Follow me.”

Duke takes off across the buildings like a planet in orbit, and Tim follows, like a moon being pulled across the solar system. They weave through the city. Tim knows this city like the back of his hand, but Duke makes sure he gets turned around. Duke brings him in circles, round and round. They take down seven muggings, four robberies, gift-wrap three Rogues for GCPD (the shining stars of a city full of them, the police not the Rogues), and they walk two women and one man home.

Finally Duke pulls Tim out of the city, and now Tim knows where he’s going. But no idea why Duke took the long way around, and why he’s going there.

Wayne Manor.

The monolith alone on one of her hills, overseeing a universe of stars and planets of people.

Duke covers Tim’s eyes with a blindfold, one of the special kinds Bruce had made for actual darkness.

Duke leads him through the house, Tim knows, he is aware of the blueprint of the Manor when blindfolded. One of the first things he leaned.

He can feel the wind, and can taste the chill in the breeze though the air itself is warm. He’s on the roof, outside. He hears the crackling of a fire and he smells the smoke. He knows his friends are there, his family. He can hear their scuttling and whispers, can feel their eyes and giddiness.

But why are they here? And what’s with the performative secrecy?

Duke whips off the blindfold and Tim acts surprised as he is surrounded by those he loves (and his brothers). All of the stars that his figurative world orbits around. The nebula of his life.

Tim keeps his laughter inside himself. He is so far in his analogy he is mixing his metaphors.

“Happy birthday!”

Alfred (and probably others who he made help him) has set up lounge chairs and buffet and there is Tim’s family and there are nice, small bonfires for ambiance and light. Everyone is smiling at him. Well, almost everyone.

Tim blinks, in shock. Did he forget again? He does the math in his head, if (one two three four five si-) six days ago was the thirteenth (he remembers because it was a Friday and so some Rogue had actually decided to play Friday the Thirteenth with Tim) then… the nineteenth.

Happy birthday to me.

[drawingsanddrabbles]

The Things We’ve Done

Prompt: Trapped together

SJM give non-Inner Circle members character development challenge

Sadly, minimal Lucien

ao3     bingo prompts     buy me a caffeinated beverage if you want!

The door slammed behind Kallias with a rusty screech. Lucien winced from the sound. “Sorry.” Kallias said softly.

He walked over to Lucien and bent down, examining Lucien’s back gently.

“Are you here to heal me?” Lucien rasped.

Kallias’s hands twitched. “I-I can’t…” Kallias was never the most powerful High Lord, that wasn’t a secret. He barely had the power to use his own ice magic, he could never heal someone. “But I was given… this…” Kallias pulled out a small crystal jar of a yellowish-green cream.

“Thank you.” Lucien whispered. His breath hitched as he heard Kallias unscrew the disinfecting painkilling ointment. Kallias rubbed his hands together—Lucien used to always complain that they were too cold. He scooped out a small amount and touched the open wounds on Lucien’s back gently. Slowly rubbing the ointment over the split skin.

“I’m… sorry.” Lucien breathed.

“For what?”

“Your father.”

Kallias said nothing, but his hands grew slightly colder. He must have had some magic left then, Lucien thought.  

“I never got to tell you; he was always very nice to me.”

“He was nice to everyone.” Kallias said.

“Yeah well, he didn’t have to be. He will be missed every day.”

“Yeah… he will.” Kallias’s hands moved slowly over Lucien’s back. The pressure hurt and made Lucien grimace and squeeze his eyes shut so not as to wince (any movement could put more pressure on the gashes and that would hurt even more).

“I’ve missed your trouble-making.” Kallias said with a weakly cheerful lit in his tone.

Lucien snorted. “Me too. I’ve missed your Court.”

Kallias paused for so long, Lucien wondered if he’d heard him.

“So have I.” He finally responded. “We should have tea again sometime.” He said carefully. His unoccupied hand rubbing comforting circles into the Lucien’s unbroken skin.

“Yes, we should.” Lucien knew he couldn’t say too much. The walls had ears, and those ears had ears too. Mentioning Kallias’s father had been risky enough, the last thing Lucien wanted was to get Kallias in trouble for inciting dissonance amongst Amarantha’s prisoners.

“How’s Tam been?”

“Tired.” Lucien reached up with one hand to the mask on his face. He’d learned to ignore the itch on his cheekbone which had been there for fifty years. “We both have been.”

“Who was it?” Kallias asked.

Lucien knew what he meant. “Andras.”

“I’m sorry. I know you two were close.”

“He’s not the only one who’s been lost.”

“No, he’s not.”

The scratch and squeak of the door moaned as it opened again. Kallias froze. Lucien could smell the lavender from where he crouched in pain.

“You have an hour.” The guard sneered.

The High Lord of the Night Court waved his hand, dismissing the guard.

“Rhys.” Lucien gritted out.

“I came to check up on you, Foxy. How’s your back?”

He didn’t actually care, Lucien knew, he was just here to rub it in Lucien’s face.

“And who’s this-?” Rhysand asked, only able to see Kallias from the back.

Rhysand walked over and Lucien turned to see the terror color Kallias’s face. He had no where to go, no where to run, no way to defend himself. Kallias slowly closed the jar, and took a silent breath. Rhysand put his hand on Kallias and turned him around.

Rhysand’s face dropped, if only for a moment. Then, a sneer.

“What are you doing here?” Rhys snarled.

Kallias’s face went cold, pure unadulterated stone. Something, Lucien knew, was only taught to the Royals of the Winter Court. It was an age old etiquette lesson of theirs, to learn to never show their emotion to an enemy. If all they saw was ice, they’d never know what you were thinking.

Autumn were unable to do anything like that. The hot blood which burned through their veins made them impulsive and unable to mask their emotions…

Well, except for Lucien. But he’d had practice with his mask.

“Amarantha said I could give him some disinfectant for his wounds. He’s useless to her if he can’t watch the girl die with his High Lord.” Kallias said with a disinterested tone.

Rhysand sighed boredly. “Well, I’ve been sent to taunt Lucien. You might as well leave, or I’ll be forced to do the same to you.”

Kallias looked from Rhysand to Lucien. Go. Lucien wanted to scream at Kallias. Go! Run! Get out of here before he gets you too!

“I’ve survived worse.” Kallias said.

Rhysand looked at the ground, then he sighed. “Very well.”

Keep reading

[drawingsanddrabbles]

The Hidden Flame

Me? Writing a fic about Lucien and Vassa despite seeming like I hate her?

Yeah kinda. Here’s the thing, I don’t hate Vassa. I love Swan Lake. I just hate how shoehorned she’s been into the series. Feels sloppy to me. 

Anywho~

Here’s a fic about Lucien and Vassa and hiding. 

Prompt: Hiding an injury/illness

ao3      bingo prompt series

Rhysand took his first breath and everyone else let out theirs. Feyre cried out, running to him. Tamlin looked down at his hands, he trembled. Helion laughed and made a joke, and Viviane threatened to kill him and slowly everything molded back to normal. Rhysand laughed, everything was good. Everything was great.

Lucien was dizzy.

His breath came slowly and awkwardly. His hand was still bloody, and he knew that the ash wound wouldn’t heal on it’s own. Rhysand seemed okay. At least Rhysand was okay.

“Hey, Lucien,” Vassa said, “you look a little ashen, you okay?”

Funny you say that.

Lucien opened his mouth to respond. He took a step forward, and his foot twisted. He landed on his ankle and fell to the ground, cracking his head. Lucien struggled to stay awake, but his head hurt and he was dizzy and people were making too much noise and his eye, his damned eye, it was hurting his head like it did sometimes and all turned black.

“LUCIEN!” Vassa shouted. Everyone turned, Rhysand started forward and Lucien went down. Lucien’s hand fell from his side, and that was when Cassian saw it. Lucien had a belly wound, and by the fact that it wasn’t healing, Cassian guessed it was an ash wound.

Deadly.

How long had Lucien been hiding it?

Vassa ran to him. She turned him over and ripped off part of her dress, holding it to the wound. None of the High Lords moved.

“What is wrong with all of you? Fucking get over here! Someone-Someone with healing powers! Something!” Vassa shouted, tears in her eyes.

It was as if someone jump-started the Lords—they burst into action. Beron stood back, staring open-mouthed, but Eris was moving. He ran to his brother’s side, pushing past Azriel and Cassian.

“Why can’t you heal him? You healed Rhysand! Why is this any different?” Vassa demanded of Thesan.

“It’s an ash wound-I-I don’t know if I can-And we just used any extra magic we had to save Rhysand we can’t-Not-Not again-!” Thesan stuttered as he watched Eris try and cauterize the wound.

Cassian moved towards Lucien. Eris let out a pulse of fire around him, his eyes burned with anger. “Stay away from him.” Eris snarled. “This is your fault!”

“Our fault? Had you stood up to Hybern in the first place, this war never would have happened!” Cassian snapped, his siphons gleaming dully in the waning light.

“Shut up!” Vassa shoved Cassian so hard that he literally stumbled. “This isn’t about either of you! We need a healer! We need-We need something!” Vassa shouted, her firebird burning though her human form.

“My territory is closest.” Tamlin said. Everyone else fell silent, watching him walked forward. “Feyre, I have a nurse in my Court; find Alis, she’ll lead you to her.” Tamlin walked up to Eris, holding on to both him and Lucien and the two of them winnowed away.

The waiting room was almost empty. Eris sat there. He wouldn’t let Beron or his Mother in the room. Helion had gone home, after much protesting. Rhysand and his Inner Circle had been sent home by Feyre. Elain wouldn’t even walk into the Spring Manor, though she did seem slightly upset to leave somewhere with such beautiful growing weather. Thesan had gone back to Dawn but had sent back his best healer. Kallias had gone home with Viviane, but they sent presents weekly. Tarquin had left Varian to stay, needed back in Summer with the unrest brewing at home.

Vassa refused to leave. No one tried to tell her to go, anymore. Eris had tried to throw her out once and she’d verbally ripped into him so badly he hadn’t spoken for three days. Jurian had gone back to the Mortal Lands, he was living in a mansion gifted to Vassa and Lucien after the war.

Hart and Bron guarded the door to Lucien’s recovery room, not even letting in Tamlin. They followed the Courts’ head healers strict instructions to the letter.

Madja poked her head out of the door. “Vassa?”

The woman’s head popped up, fire burning in her eyes.

“He wants to see you.”

Vassa stood and shot a smirk at Eris before flouncing into the recovery room.

Eris snarled after her, simmering with anger. Vassa seemed to have that magic power to piss off anyone she wanted. Which explained how she’d gotten cursed in the first place (not that Feyre ever dared to say such a thing).

Madja opened the door just enough for Vassa to squeeze though and then closed it behind her.

“Remember the rules-”

“I know.” Vassa huffed. “No antagonizing him. No excitement. Nothing that should worry him. No illicit food.” Vassa glared at Madja as if these rules were just so she could be cruel.

“You can go on.” Madja said nodding to the chair by the bed.

The recovery room wasn’t large but it wasn’t small. It had Lucien’s bed, a chair, and a dresser which was stuffed with medical supplies. There was a small but full bath off to the side, but Lucien wasn’t up to using it yet. There was also an adjoining room where the five healers slept so that they could be on call.

“Hi Lucien. You wanted to see me?”

Lucien blinked open his good eye. A small smile curved on his lips. “Hi Vassa.” He rasped. He tried to turn over slowly, but he grimaced and gave up on moving. “I wasn’t sleeping.” He insisted.

“Oh?” Vassa asked, raising a delicate eyebrow with humor dancing on her face.

“No. I was…” Lucien took a heavy breath. His lungs scratched against his chest, wheezing. Vassa leaned forward, at his side in a second. “… waiting … for you.” The smile softened. “I’m…” wheeze “… okay. Sit… please, sit.”

Vassa sat back in the visitor’s chair cautiously.

“So… tell me… the goss… ip.”

Vassa grinned. “With pleasure.”

“Lucien?”

Lucien’s eyes were closed and he let out a sigh of air that was barely a response. “Hmm?”

“Do you want me to leave so you can sleep?”

Lucien was too tired to shake his head, but he didn’t want to be alone again. “I’m … listening.” He breathed.

“Anyway, Jurian has invited us to his Manor once you get better, if I still have-” Vassa stopped short. ‘-If I still have… this form.”

“Vassa?”

“Yeah?”

“I… would like that…”

“Living with Jurian?”

“And… you. Living with both… of you.”

“Our Band of Exiles, huh?”

Lucien laughed weakly, as if he was already half asleep (which he was).

“Vassa?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll… I’ll save you… if it’s the last thing I do.”

Vassa’s heart broke. “Lucien, you need to work on getting better, you know that.”

“It’s… okay… Vassa. It’s time to stop… to stop hiding, Vassa. Time to… to come out… into… into the world. Time to get… to get…” A soft breath.

“To get what?”

But Lucien was already asleep. Vassa took his hand in hers.

Madja poked her head in the room. She’d left them alone for privacy.

“Time to go.” She said.

Vassa nodded. She took a last look at Lucien. He seemed so peaceful while he slept. She pressed a kiss to his hand, only once she’d stood did she realize she’d left a red smudge on the back of his hand. For the front they vaguely looked like lips, but from the side… from the side they looked like a phoenix unfurled. Rising and ready to burn.

Time to stop hiding.

“If he calls for me again-”

“I’ll get you at once, Queen.” Madja said, bowing her head slightly.

The woman threw back her shoulders.

Time to stop hiding.

Time to get well.

Vassa strode from the room, flames licking her feet. In his bed Lucien woke up, and summoned his strength to turn over and watch her go.

Madja sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair. “Go back to sleep, Lucien. You have to get better.”

Lucien let his eyelids drip back down until they were closed. Lucien slept well.

[drawingsanddrabbles]

On Deaf Ears

Prompt: Loss of hearing

AU where Amarantha took Lucien’s ears instead of his eye. 

I really like the idea that Lucien’s metal eye sees more than he lets on, so I sorta took that and this prompt and ran with it. 

ao3   bingo prompts series

“Too bad you like to hear yourself talk, because now, you’ll hear nothing.”

Lucien stared at the sky. He had never noticed how much sound there had been in Spring. He had never noticed how he could hear the wind through the trees, how he could hear birds chirping away, how he could hear the grass crunching under his head.

Lucien closed his eyes. It would take a while to get used to hearing nothing.

He missed those sweet sounds.

But he had made a choice. And he had deserved it.

And now, he had to move on.

Andreas had been trying to teach Lucien how to sign, it was hard but Lucien was getting better. Lucien tried to remember the symbol for ‘better’. Was it an ‘a’ or an ‘s’ which Lucien was supposed to sign at the end?

Lucien sighed and put a hand over his eyes. At least he still had those.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped, a hand going straight to his knife.

Tamlin put his hands up in a surrender motion. They both knew that Tamlin could kill Lucien faster than Lucien could unsheathe his weapon, so the motion was out of courtesy.

Tamlin took Lucien’s hands and pulled him along with him back to the manor.

Lucien could feel the words leave his throat, the vibrations they made, but he couldn’t hear them.

Lucien watched Tamlin’s face as he processed the question. Over the past few weeks, he began to understand micro-expressions, find small ways to understand things without being able to hear those near him.

Tamlin nodded.

So it was time then.

When Lucien had found out that Nuan may be able to help him, he had been… worried. Ears… were noticeable, something functional, and Nuan would be found out.

Amarantha would know.

But Nuan had insisted. Tamlin had insisted. They owed him this much, they said, it would be okay. Everything would be alright, just as long as he could hear.

And truly, his hearing didn’t seem that important to him anymore. Not really.

Nuan was waiting in the ballroom. In her hands were the beautiful pointed ears, which were carved intricately with whorls of magic symbols. Nuan brought out a slate and wrote on it: SIT DOWN

Lucien sat in the chair provided. Nuan bent over and began to poke around at his head. She said something to Tamlin, which Lucien couldn’t read as Nuan’s head was pointed away from him.

Tamlin stepped behind Lucien and gently brought his hair up and away—exposing Lucien’s scars.

Amarantha had ripped his ears off of his head with her bare hands. Lucien had barely winnowed back, and when he did Tamlin had doubled over and puked. During Lucien’s recovery Tamlin would swing from being obsessively attentive and never leaving Lucien’s side, to not looking at him or speaking to him at all.

THIS WILL HURT

Yeah, well I’m used to that.

Lucien closed his eyes.

It did hurt. As Nuan wove the ears onto his head it hurt a lot. Like acupuncture, only a few million times over.

When he no longer felt Nuan’s hands by his ears he blinked open his eyes. Nothing had changed-or at least, it didn’t feel like anything had changed.

He saw Nuan’s lips move as she ran her fingers over a whorl on a piece of paper. There was a sharp ting! And-

“Can you hear me?” Nuan asked softly.

Lucien nodded, and he began to cry. There were so many sounds at once, all too many-too many!

“SH!” Lucien snapped, covering his ears.

All talking ceased.

Lucien looked up to see Tamlin staring at him. Tamlin bent down, and his face didn’t move, his lips stayed still, but Lucien still heard: Wow, gold isn’t really Lucien’s color.

All that sound… that hadn’t come from the few people in the room’s mouths.

It had come from their thoughts.

“Lucien? What is it?” Nuan asked, concerned. Did I do something wrong? Is he okay? Well? Why won’t he say something?

I hope this works, Lucien deserves something to work for him once in his life. But what was that weird look on his face?

Lucien could hear their thoughts.

“Nothing. Everything is okay. Thank you, Nuan.”

Aw, well he deser-“-ve it.”

Lucien closed his eyes, leaning against the door of the human girl’s painting room.

Lucien, Lucien, she mused as she hummed. Lucien could hear the faint swoosh of the brush on the walls of the room. What do your golden ears hear?

More than you know, Lucien thought before pushing himself off the wall of the hallway, to leave Feyre Archeron alone to her thoughts, more than you know.

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Secrets Secrets are No Fun

Lucien Vanserra has a secret, and Azriel is hellbent on figuring it out. For better or for worse. 

Aka nobody is straight, half of them are self-loathing, and Lucien is a sex-repulsed asexual. 

ao3

Lucien Vanserra had a secret that only one person had ever known. Jes had loved him anyway, had promised him that it didn’t matter—but Lucien knew better. Lucien couldn’t tell anyone, if someone did know his whole facade would crash down around his ears and no one would believe him ever again. No one would need him. No one would want him.

Cassian almost found out. He’d gotten too close.

They were at Rita’s. Just the boys for some fun. Lucien and Cassian were wasted and had ended up in the coat closet because they were going to go back to the House of Wind. Lucien dropped a coat and bent down to pick it up. They were alone and Cassian stumbled, falling onto Lucien, knocking them both into the floor.

Cassian giggled as he sat up, looking at Lucien.

He was close. Too close.

Cassian leaned in, a hand on Lucien’s hip. The touch and the alcohol and the closeness and knowing what was about to happen- it was too much, revulsion crawled up Lucien’s skin and Lucien threw up in Cassian’s lap.

Cassian just blamed it on the alcohol. Lucien knew better.

Lucien’s head hurt worse than it ever had before. He stumbled out of his room, and down the hall. His stomach growled, and his lips were chapped and dry. Thankfully, the House of Wind hallways were soft colors and dark and gloomy. Lucien never thought he would like dark and gloomy. Autumn, Spring, everywhere he’d lived it had been bright and even in the dark it was never gloomy.

He managed to find his way to the dining room. He could tell because the minute he entered the brightness on the world dramatically increased and Lucien’s headache got worse.

He smelled coffee.

“Morning~” Feyre sang, handing Lucien a steaming cup.

“No nooo,” Lucien tried to say, but his mind didn’t want to make words, “nooo, shhhhh…”

Feyre laughed. “Need help getting to the table?”

“I’m fine.” Lucien grumbled as he found his way to the dining room table. He took a huge sip of the beverage, making him wake up because he’d just burned his mouth, and helping lessen his headache slightly.

Cassian had already woken up. He sat with his head on the table, glasses of ice water haloed around his face.

“Morning.” Lucien greeted.

Cassian made a noncommittal noise.

“Boys’ night got a little out of hand?” Mor asked. She sat in the chair next to Lucien and crossed her legs before reaching for the tea selection.

Lucien frowned. “Why are you…” His brain seemed to be angry at him, “… head hurts.” He said as an explanation of his speech was slow and his eyes were squeezed closed, “Time?”

“Noon. You’re just in time for lunch.” Nesta said sourly. She’d hoped that Lucien wouldn’t wake up at all. Lucien had half a mind to hope he wouldn’t have woken up either.

“You know, for someone who was clearly trashed last night, you seem pretty put together.” Feyre said.

Lucien shrugged as he sipped his coffee. “Practice.”

Cassian mumbled something that vaguely sounded like “fuck you.”

A new set of footsteps entered the room and Lucien shaded his eyes to slightly alleviate his pounding head. Azriel walked into the room shirtless and sweating. Of course, Lucien thought bitterly, of course Azriel would look like Prythian’s next top model the day after he got so drunk he started dancing the macarena with lesbians.

“I’m hungry!” Azriel said with a grin. He plopped down onto the chairs and clapped his hands to which both Lucien and Cassian protested. He chuckled sadistically.

Mor sniffed disdainfully. “You need a shower.”

“I’m going back out after family lunch. Speaking of which, is Rhys still asleep?” Azriel asked. He reached for some of the food set out (which Lucien had just realized was on the table).

Elain slapped his hands. Azriel retracted them.

“I let him sleep in. He stayed up pretty late.” Feyre said with a grin and a wink.

“Ew,” Lucien grumbled. Feyre laughed and slapped Lucien on the back as she sat on the other side of him. “Ow.”

“Anyway, we should start without him.”

“Lucien, what was that last night?” Elain asked suddenly. All heads turned. Except Cassian’s which stayed placed on the table between its cage of ice water. “I felt… something weird.”

Lucien flushed. “Nothing.” She couldn’t know. Elain couldn’t know. Please Mother, Lucien prayed, please make her not know.

“He threw up on me.” Cassian grumbled.

“Wow, he managed a whole sentence. That’s progress.” Azriel said as he reached over Cassian for the rice.

“You threw up on him?” Feyre said pityingly. She patted Lucien’s back soothingly.

“That explains your lack of pants!” Mor cried.

“Shhhhh…!” Cassian and Lucien hushed in unison.

“Oh yeah. Rita offered to wash them for him, and he could pick them up later. I knew I was forgetting something.” Az said before shoveling food in his mouth.

“How do you do it?” Lucien asked horrified. He looked down at his own plate and pushed it away, too nauseous to eat it. He decided to stick with coffee.

“This is Az’s usual post-drinking session. And I hate him for it.” Mor said, watching Az stuff his face.

“You’re just jealous.”

“You’re unusually talkative today.” Nesta said accusingly.

Azriel shrugged and continued to chew.

The sound of feet padding across the floor announced the High Lord’s arrival.

“It lives!” Mor cried.

“SHHHH!”

Mor chuckled.

“So, what are we talking about?” Rhys asked softly as he sat down. He reached for the pitcher of coffee and Feyre took it from him so he wouldn’t spill it all over himself.

“Did you know Lucien threw up on Cassian last night?” Feyre asked.

“So I guess everyone has to know, huh Feyre?” Lucien grumbled, growing red.

“Well yeah. Why else would Cassian come home missing pants?” Rhys mumbled.

Elain shook her head.

“That’s not something that should be a given!”

Everyone laughed and Lucien decided it was best that they all thought that he’d thrown up from alcohol poisoning.

As Azriel watched Lucien shift in his seat, rubbing his hands in a warming gesture around his mug, Az knew something was wrong. He was unsure about what exactly it was, but something was wrong. And it wasn’t snooping, Azriel rationalized, because this was his job, and it had nothing to do with Elain or Rhys or Feyre at all. Nope. This was all for the sake of his intelligence gathering.

Keep reading