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love stood for a moment
âAlfred,â Bruce starts, staring blankly ahead, âis that a European thing?â Alfredâs indiscrete smirk grows, and he begins clearing away the dish Dick left behind. âNo, I believe that is simply Master Dick showing affection.â He glances at Bruce from the side as he turns towards the sink. âFamilies share kisses in America as well, especially when children are young. Your mother was particularly fond of giving your young self kisses on the forehead.â Bruce braces a hand on the counter, slumping into it. âFamily,â he echoes in a whisper. â 6 times Dick surprised a bat with a kiss, and 1 time a bat surprised him with one.
Rating: Gen Words: 9k Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Batfamily Members Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Familial Kisses, POV Multiple, Injured Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Jason Todd Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, and they all get little pecks instead, Insomniac Tim Drake, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Jason Todd is Robin, Jason Todd is Red Hood, not going to name everyoneâs. just know this takes place over several years, Dead Bruce Wayne, only for a bit, Panic Attacks, Minor Injuries, 6+1 Things
https://archiveofourown.org/works/66798463
#dick grayson#jason todd#bruce wayne#tim drake#alfred pennyworth#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#damian wayne#nightwing#red hood#robin#dc robin#hurt/comfort#fluff#angst#familial kisses#platonic kisses#5+1 things#technically 6+1 but whatever#batman#dc#fic#my fic#forgetmesunflower fic
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Young Dick once heâs more comfortable at the manor
Dick, standing on his seat as Bruce walks in for breakfast: Morning, B! *kisses his cheek*
Bruce, short-circuiting:
Dick, running off: Bye, B!
Bruce, world traveled but tired and dazed: Alfred, is that a European thing?
Alfred: No, Master Bruce, I believe that is Master Dick showing familial affection.
Bruce, about to cry: Family?
now with a fic!
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don't start writing httyd fics dont start writing httyd fics dontstartwritinghttydfics
I don't even have the time to work on my current multichapter. I can't do this.
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The next chapter of buried deep, these memories is gonna be so so late.
I'm having to write chapters 9/10 at the same time for consistency and also new job, so writing time is so little.
But I refuse to give up on this fic ever. Even if it takes another month or two to get this chapter out.
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Bruce wasnât at breakfast. He wasnât at lunch either. But it was the weekend, and Dick was pretty sure Bruce only went into work on weekdays like when Dick was sent to school.
Swinging his feet from the too-high kitchen stool as he watched Alfred wash his plate and cup, Dick eventually asked, âDo you know where Bruce is?â
Alfred didnât look up. âI believe heâs still in bed. It would be best to let him rest for a while longer.â
Dick thought that was strange, since Bruce hadnât patrolled last night. All major organized crime leaders were in Blackgate, and that clown guy that made a scene last month was just admitted to Arkham Asylum after his trial. Apparently, the poor guy was sick, which was why he killed those men.
Dick didnât quite understand it. But he got grumpy when he was sick too, so maybe it was kind of similar. He hated to think that something like having the flu could lead to killing people, but Detective Gordon also said that the clown guy was sick up in his brain, so maybe it wasnât quite the same.
Still, it was supposed to have been quiet beyond minor crimes that most of the police could handle (the ones that were initiating it anyway), so Alfred had insisted both Batman and Robin take the previous night off, which Bruce agreed to reluctantly. All to say, it was strange that he was still asleep.
So Dick wandered over to Bruceâs bedroom and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, Dick turned the knob and cracked it open. Peeking in, the room was almost pitch black aside from the light spilling in from the hallway. As he squinted into the room, he could see the heavy curtains were drawn, the big top blanketâthe duvet or the comforter or whatever, Alfred kept changing the word up on himâwas on the floor, and there was a large lump under the thin top sheet on the bed.Â
âBruce?â he whispered into the room.
The lump didnât move nor make a sound, so Dick slipped inside and shut the door behind him. He blinked a few times until he could see the bed again in the dark, then tiptoed over. The duvet-comforter tried to trip him up, but he clambered over and crawled onto the bed.
He tapped what he assumed to be Bruceâs arm. âBruce?â he whispered again.Â
There was a mumbled answer this time, but Dick didnât catch it.
âI canât hear you.â
âNot right now, Dick. Leave,â Bruce growled, almost in his Batman voice.
âWhy?â
Maybe he was sick too. He wondered why Alfred wasnât taking care of him if he was. Dickâs mama always took care of him when he threw up or felt all hot and cold and gross, and she took care of Papa too when he inevitably got whatever was going around. Sickness always spread like hay on fire in the circus, but Mama never seemed to be affected.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â Dick pushed.
Bruce sighed heavily, a sound Dick was beginning to recognize to mean he was annoyed with Dick but too tired to do much about it. But usually he was only ever annoyed because he was tired. Dick didnât get it. He always felt the best after exercise left him exhausted.Â
âItâs after lunch,â Dick told him. âAlfred told us to go to bed last night. You did, right?â That was another habit Dick had noticed. Bruce would be tired lots, so much so that he got annoyed and short with Dick, but still didnât go to bed. And he wasnât even staying up to do anything fun. It was just more work.
Bruce shifted under the sheet, and Dick finally got a look at the side of his face, body turned away from Dick. Bruce sighed again.
âAre you sick?â
After another pause, Bruce said, âSure.â
That would explain why he was still tired. But then, he shouldnât be skipping meals. âShould I get Alfred?â
âNoââ Bruce shifted again, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. âNot like that. Iâm notââ He trailed off.
Dick frowned. âWell, are you sick like that clown guy?â
Bruceâs head snapped up, looking over at Dick in the dark. âThat man is deranged. We are nothing alike.â
Dick frowned deeper. He didnât know what deranged meant, but Bruce didnât say it like anything good. âDetective Gordon said he was sick.â He tapped his own forehead with a finger. âUp in his head.â
Bruce closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He straightened out to lie on his back. He didnât open his eyes yet, but said much more gently, âYes. Heâs right. The man is sick. The doctors and staff at Arkham will help him so that he doesnât hurt anymore people.â
Batman went out at night and hurt bad people, but Dick didnât think he would appreciate the comparison. Batman didnât kill people. âWhat kind of sick are you then?â
Opening one eye just a slit, Bruceâs blue eyes looked black in the dark. For a few moments, Bruce didnât say anything, and Dick remembered how Bruce seemed to have an easier time talking when Dick wasnât looking directly at him. Which was strange. His parents had always liked him to look at them when they talked. They said it showed he was paying attention.Â
Dick shuffled down the bed a little and lied down beside Bruce. Then he scooted over until he was tucked up against Bruceâs side, feeling his body heat radiating even through the blanket. Maybe he really did have a fever. Bruce lifted one arm to accommodate, curling it around Dickâs shoulders as Dick used it as a pillow. Bruce must really have been feeling sick. He didnât stiffen or hesitate at all.
âSometimes adults have bad days. They justâ donât feel well.â
âBut wasnât last night a break?â
âIâ yeah. I guess.â
Dick hummed in thought. âIs it because you didnât go out?â
Bruce didnât answer.
Dick continued anyway, âIs it like when I donât go on the bars for a few days because of an injury? Like, I know the break is supposed to help my body feel better, but I also feel worse when I havenât done it in a while. Kinda⌠icky?â
A few seconds passed before Bruce said, âThatâs probably part of it.â
âPart of it?â
âYeah.â
âWhatâs the other part?â
He sighed again. âItâs just like that sometimes.â
Dick wrinkled his nose. He hated when Bruce said that. Usually, he was the adult that said that to Dick the least, explaining things even if a lot of the time Dick still didnât get it, but every so often, heâd close up and say âItâs just like that.â
âWhy donât you want to get up?â
âBecause I donât feel well.â
âBecause youâre sick?â
âBecause Iâm sick.â
Dick shifted a bit, feeling restless. âFresh air usually makes me feel better.â
Bruce held his breath, like he was trying not to sigh.Â
âWe should go out for ice cream.â
âNot today, Dick.â
âHow are you going to feel better if you donât get fresh air?â
âFresh air wonât make me feel better.â
âOh,â Dick said. He pursed his lips. âYou sure?â
This time, Bruce didnât hold in his sigh. He was doing that a lot. Dick kinda hoped he was breathing out all the sick from his body. Maybe sighing made him feel better.
They both lied there for another minute. Dick counted the seconds. Then he sat up suddenly. Bruce flinched.
âWhat if we have ice cream in bed?â
Bruce squinted up at him. âWhat?â
Dick hurried to scramble off the bed. âThatâll make you feel better. Iâll go ask Alfred.â
âWait, Dickâ no ice cream before dinner.â
Dick didnât look back, hopping over to the door as he said, âYeah, but you're sick! Alfred let me have ice cream after lunch when Carrie gave me the chicken pox, so itâs only fair.â
Then he was out the door.
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Alfred's musings of the dining table.
It was just the way itâs always been. Thomas always sat at the head of the table, in the single chair overlooking the length of the dark rosewood surface. Marthaâs natural place was to his right along one side, and Alfred easily settled across from her, to Thomasâ left and closest to the kitchen door. Until he had grown tall enough, young Bruceâs high chair stood between his parentsâ, then he transitioned to his motherâs other side at her right-hand. It was just the way itâs always been.
It seemed all too sudden, a shift in a single night, when Bruce refused to sit in the dining room anymore. Alfred found himself instead placing the boyâs food on the kitchen counter as Bruce took each meal right there on one of the tall stools, small feet dangling far off the ground like he was three again and sitting in a high chair between his parents. Alfred stood to Bruceâs left while they ate, watching his ward with a careful eye. Just the two of them in the big, empty house.
Only after his long, periodic months and years away in training, when Bruce finally came back for good, did he step into the dining room for the first time after what must have been over ten years, standing before the rosewood table in silence. He stood for several very still moments, then slowly, Bruce lowered himself into his father's seat. Alfred sat at his left, closest to the kitchen door, as if this was the way it's always been.
â
Dick took up Martha's old spot to Bruce's right-hand, directly across from Alfred, as naturally as Bruce had once taken his motherâs side. When Bruce smiled softly at the boy, Alfred wondered if his grown boy remembered where they all once sat, and that that was the same expression Martha once impressed onto Bruce.
â
Alfred wondered where to put Jason's plate. It would be rude to place it where Dick's usually ate, but if he placed it to the right of that, where a much younger Bruce once sat, there would be an empty space, like the boy was slightly removed from the family.
Jason solved the issue himself, insisting on helping set the table and asking where everyone was usually seated. Upon hearing, he nodded once, quick and considering, and set a plate to the left of Alfred's. Bruce looked upon the placing curiously when he came down, but Jason appeared perfectly content with Alfred between himself and Bruceâs large frame. Alfred didnât think that was the entire reason, but he never pressed, content in his own way to have two of his boysâ presences at his sides.
â
Timothy didn't stay for dinner often, but for his first dinner, Dick was joining them, so it was easy to put Timothy's plate to Dick's right. Even when Dick wasn't there, he seemed more comfortable with that small barrier of privacy, like the idea of being sidled up right beside the rest of them was overwhelming. Across from Jason's empty place, Alfred realized it was the same configuration as the bedrooms, the spare room where Timothy had begun to stay in on late patrol nights positioned right beside Dick's and across from Jason's closed door.
â
Stephanie easily took the place to Timothy's right, a seat Alfred remembered usually only ever being occupied by a very young Kate Kane when the extended family visited.Â
â
Cassandra took a long look around the dining room as she did all the other rooms. She saw the remnants of the people who occupied those chairs. The varying worn leather backs of Bruce's, Alfred's, Dick's, and Timothy's chairs, the chipped wood on the underside of the table where Dick sat from when he was young and new and always restless at meals, picking at the hidden wood so he wouldn't be seen picking at his food instead. Indented pencil scratches in the finishing where Jason often did the sudoku in the newspaper after Bruce was done reading it in the mornings.
She took it all in, then sat on the left, one empty seat between Alfred's and her new designated spot, right across from Stephanie's. It didnât feel like she was separated from the rest of the family, but Alfred felt the vacant pocket of space between them all the same.
â
Those first few days with Damian in the Manor, the boy seemed to unintentionally banish himself to the opposite end of the table. On the left side, Alfred noted, which confused him because he would've thought Damian, who seemed to be more well versed in old American society customs than even Tim, would have positioned himself on the right. However, Alfred supposed that if there was a chair at that foot of the table, it could be mistaken for a second head, and then Damian would've been on the right of thatâon the right to an invisible patriarch. Ah, or maybe his mother had always taken Ra's right hand, so Damian defaulted to the left.
Well, Alfred never got the chance to ask him, not that he thought he would have, before they were living in the Penthouse, just three of them. There was no head of this table. Just Alfred closest to the kitchen, Dick across from him, and Damian to Dick's right side.
Eventually though, when the Manor seemed to become home once again for the children, Damian was miffed by Tim's presence at Dick's right, but Cassandra beckoned him over to her left easily enough.Â
â
Jason, after much too long, eventually reclaimed his spot at Alfred's left.
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Alfred taught them to cook.
He loves cooking, loves making dinner for a full table, working around different restrictions and preferences, and that's all the more reason to teach each of them how to love it just the same.
Bruce has trouble eating after his parents' death, appetite diminished and joy for new and exciting foods gone. Alfred places a plate on the counter in front of him (Bruce won't eat in the dining room anymore; that was a place for family meals), but all he does is stare.
Alfred tries several new things, anything to peek his ward's interest. Eventually, it becomes simply making sure he gets basic vitamins and minerals. This morning he cuts up fruit in between mixing the crepe batter. Fibre is easiest to get into him in the mornings. Bruce, already nine, comes down to the kitchen and watches him.
"I'll just be a few moments more. Will you get the bowl of custard out of the fridge for me, my boy?"
Bruce complies with a nod. He pulls out the bowl and curiously peeks into the saran wrap covering. Alfred angles away but keeps an eye on him as the boy peels the wrap back and sticks a finger in. Alfred can't imagine scolding him for it when he brings his finger to his mouth and his eyes light up in satisfaction. It's gone quickly, but Alfred has gained his own spark as Bruce sets the bowl beside him on the counter, reaching up on his toes to see the strawberries Alfred slices up.
Alfred holds up one slice as if inspecting it. He pops it into his own mouth. Bruce's eyes go wide before smoothing over. Alfred hums. "I'm not sure if this size is quite right. Will you taste test it for me?" He offers a slice to Bruce.
Bruce scrunches up his nose. "Size doesn't affect taste."
"Oh, but I assure you it does. See for yourself."
Bruce gingerly takes the thick slice of strawberry and slips it between his lips. It sits in his mouth for a while before his jaw moves to chew.
"Well?"
"It tastes like a strawberry."
"Okay, well now try this smaller one." It's thin and flimsy when he passes it over. Bruce eyes him skeptically but slips it in just the same.
Bruce's eyes widen and his lips pucker. "That is different. Why is it different? What'd you do to it?"
Alfred can't help a smile. "Nothing, my boy. That is simply the art of cooking. You want to give it a try?"
His tasks are simple assortment of ingredients and putting the crepes together while Alfred keeps him away from the stove, and Bruce keeps sneaking bits of fruit and dollops of custard, wrinkling his nose at the taste of raw batter.
Nine is a little young to start learning to cook, Alfred thinks, but Bruce eats two and a half stuffed crepes before he realizes he's full. It's the largest breakfast he's eaten in months. Bruce joins Alfred in the kitchen for almost every meal after that.
âââ
Alfred taught them to cook, and I want to give them each a comfort or otherwise meaningful dish to feature here.
Any suggestions?
I've had thoughts for making one of Dick's being something I grew up loving that Alfred learned to make (with Dick's helpful input to make it closer to home), though my German family's food, I've found, might be more Mennonite-specific. Like wareniki (vareneki) & schmaundt fat or something as simple as kuchen.
I'd love to explore different culture's foods with this, so if you have suggestions, any at all, please share!!! It doesn't have to be culturally specific though. I'd just really love to expand on this idea and started with something simple (and white haha) for Bruce. Though it could always change!
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Aroace Damian and gay, hopelessly in-love Jon but they actually make it work.
Jon thinking he can never love someone as much as he loves Damian as both his best friend and romantic love of his life; Damian never loving a non-family member as much as he platonically loves Jon and not being able to comprehend living his life without Jon in it.
Cuddling on the couch while watching a movie.
Dinner together both staying in and going out to restaurants.Â
Going for walks in the park, petting dogs, sitting down for a picnic, Jon napping under the sun while Damian sketches him and the scenery.
Buying gifts just because it reminds them of each other.
Being each otherâs plus ones to events because who else would they take?
Living together with separate bedrooms even if Jon slips into Damianâs bed for cuddles every once in a while, more and more often as Damian gets accustomed to it.
Jon coming home and giving Damian a kiss on the head or cheek, and Damian occasionally casually doing the same. Perfectly acceptable show of both romantic and platonic love.
People ask what their relationship is, but theyâve always been partners, ever since they were preteens. The only thing thatâs changed is the type of love they hold for the other. They still love each other with their whole beings, more than they love anyone else. Whatâs it matter if what they feel individually has a slightly different tone? They make it work.
#damian wayne#jon kent#jondami#super sons#supersons#damijon#jonathan samuel kent#robin#superboy#batman#superman#dc#dc comics#ace damian wayne#aroace damian wayne#allo jon kent#hc#headcanon#fic ideas#sunmbles
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these mouths we have are traps (bold-faced lairs of brotherhood)
Jason practically chokes. âW-what?â He feels light-headed, every ounce of blood draining from his face. Sionis waves his free hand. âI know, I know. A little kinky for your first time, Hood, but Nightwingâs practically a voyeur already.â Dick doesnât visibly flinch, but Jason can tell itâs a near thing. âWhat are you playing at, Sionis?â Nightwing grits out. Jasonâs own tongue still feels too thick to speak, pressing up against all his teeth, clogging the path to his airways. His hands are useless trembling fists at his sides. Sionis groans out a dramatic sigh. âI thought I was being pretty clear. Fucking idiots. Iâll spell it out for you. Red Hood, give Nightwing a good fucking in front of me and my men and Little Red here.â âââ Black Mask has had it with the Red Hoodâs arrogant sense of righteousness and forces Jason to turn into the very kind of monster he despises the most, lest he choose the âworseâ option. His brothers are just collateral.
For @badthingshappenbingo: Forced to Watch
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, DCU Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Words: 9.3k, 1/1 Relationships: Jason Todd & Dick Grayson, Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Roman Sionis, Tim Drake Additional Tags: Mutual Non-Con, No Feelings, Forced to Watch, Fuck or Die, via held at gunpoint, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadistic Choice, Top Jason Todd, Bottom Dick Grayson, No Romance, Angst, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, they kind of get one, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Tim Drake is Red Robin, No Minors Present, Creepy Roman Sionis, Anal Sex, Spit as Lube, Hand Jobs, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Forced Orgasm, Forced Incest, brief mention of incest kink on romanâs part, Self-Hatred, Internalized Victim Blaming, Vomiting, POV Jason Todd, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Dick Grayson, minor/threatened Roman/Tim
https://archiveofourown.org/works/66100963

#jason todd#dick grayson#tim drake#roman sionis#jaydick#except not really but still#batman#dc#nightwing#red hood#red robin#black mask#bad things happen bingo#forced to watch#prompt: forced to watch#fandom: dc comics#fandom: batman#nsfw#fic#pelicanflesh fic#my fic
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Spending an hour to organize your wips by percentage done instead of using that hour to work on any of your wips.
It's called a ⨠sense of fulfillment â¨
Now where's my fulfillment.
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buried deep, these memories
Chapter 8: the desolation after an explosion
Jason wipes the damp cloth over the blood thatâs dried tacky on Dickâs temples, skin tinted pink. He doesnât know if itâs from the blood or abrasion. Maybe both. His hand stills, cloth hovering for a moment as he stares, and his knees begin to ache from kneeling so long on the thin rug. Itâs disconcerting, watching Dick like this where he lies on Jasonâs living room sofa, still breathing. âââ It's been four years since the family lowered Dick's coffin into the ground, and Jason finally feels like heâs settling into his new job with the BAU. That is, until two people part of an illusive group called âSpyralâ arrive in custody. aka. Jason works for the BAU and Dick hasn't come back from Spyral.
Rating: Teen Words: 43k, 8/12 Relationships: Jason Todd & Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & BAU Members, Jason Todd & Emily Prentiss, Jason Todd & Batfamily Members Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, David Rossi, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Tim Drake, Paris Pantoja, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62983582/chapters/161296525
#jason todd#dick grayson#emily prentiss#derek morgan#david rossi#jennifer jj jareau#spencer reid#aaron hotchner#penelope garcia#tim drake#duke thomas#cassandra cain#barbara gordon#bruce wayne#paris pantoja#criminal minds#dc#batman#grayson comics#spyral#agent 37#forgetmesunflower fic#my fic
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Bruce wasnât at breakfast. He wasnât at lunch either. But it was the weekend, and Dick was pretty sure Bruce only went into work on weekdays like when Dick was sent to school.
Swinging his feet from the too-high kitchen stool as he watched Alfred wash his plate and cup, Dick eventually asked, âDo you know where Bruce is?â
Alfred didnât look up. âI believe heâs still in bed. It would be best to let him rest for a while longer.â
Dick thought that was strange, since Bruce hadnât patrolled last night. All major organized crime leaders were in Blackgate, and that clown guy that made a scene last month was just admitted to Arkham Asylum after his trial. Apparently, the poor guy was sick, which was why he killed those men.
Dick didnât quite understand it. But he got grumpy when he was sick too, so maybe it was kind of similar. He hated to think that something like having the flu could lead to killing people, but Detective Gordon also said that the clown guy was sick up in his brain, so maybe it wasnât quite the same.
Still, it was supposed to have been quiet beyond minor crimes that most of the police could handle (the ones that were initiating it anyway), so Alfred had insisted both Batman and Robin take the previous night off, which Bruce agreed to reluctantly. All to say, it was strange that he was still asleep.
So Dick wandered over to Bruceâs bedroom and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, Dick turned the knob and cracked it open. Peeking in, the room was almost pitch black aside from the light spilling in from the hallway. As he squinted into the room, he could see the heavy curtains were drawn, the big top blanketâthe duvet or the comforter or whatever, Alfred kept changing the word up on himâwas on the floor, and there was a large lump under the thin top sheet on the bed.Â
âBruce?â he whispered into the room.
The lump didnât move nor make a sound, so Dick slipped inside and shut the door behind him. He blinked a few times until he could see the bed again in the dark, then tiptoed over. The duvet-comforter tried to trip him up, but he clambered over and crawled onto the bed.
He tapped what he assumed to be Bruceâs arm. âBruce?â he whispered again.Â
There was a mumbled answer this time, but Dick didnât catch it.
âI canât hear you.â
âNot right now, Dick. Leave,â Bruce growled, almost in his Batman voice.
âWhy?â
Maybe he was sick too. He wondered why Alfred wasnât taking care of him if he was. Dickâs mama always took care of him when he threw up or felt all hot and cold and gross, and she took care of Papa too when he inevitably got whatever was going around. Sickness always spread like hay on fire in the circus, but Mama never seemed to be affected.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â Dick pushed.
Bruce sighed heavily, a sound Dick was beginning to recognize to mean he was annoyed with Dick but too tired to do much about it. But usually he was only ever annoyed because he was tired. Dick didnât get it. He always felt the best after exercise left him exhausted.Â
âItâs after lunch,â Dick told him. âAlfred told us to go to bed last night. You did, right?â That was another habit Dick had noticed. Bruce would be tired lots, so much so that he got annoyed and short with Dick, but still didnât go to bed. And he wasnât even staying up to do anything fun. It was just more work.
Bruce shifted under the sheet, and Dick finally got a look at the side of his face, body turned away from Dick. Bruce sighed again.
âAre you sick?â
After another pause, Bruce said, âSure.â
That would explain why he was still tired. But then, he shouldnât be skipping meals. âShould I get Alfred?â
âNoââ Bruce shifted again, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. âNot like that. Iâm notââ He trailed off.
Dick frowned. âWell, are you sick like that clown guy?â
Bruceâs head snapped up, looking over at Dick in the dark. âThat man is deranged. We are nothing alike.â
Dick frowned deeper. He didnât know what deranged meant, but Bruce didnât say it like anything good. âDetective Gordon said he was sick.â He tapped his own forehead with a finger. âUp in his head.â
Bruce closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He straightened out to lie on his back. He didnât open his eyes yet, but said much more gently, âYes. Heâs right. The man is sick. The doctors and staff at Arkham will help him so that he doesnât hurt anymore people.â
Batman went out at night and hurt bad people, but Dick didnât think he would appreciate the comparison. Batman didnât kill people. âWhat kind of sick are you then?â
Opening one eye just a slit, Bruceâs blue eyes looked black in the dark. For a few moments, Bruce didnât say anything, and Dick remembered how Bruce seemed to have an easier time talking when Dick wasnât looking directly at him. Which was strange. His parents had always liked him to look at them when they talked. They said it showed he was paying attention.Â
Dick shuffled down the bed a little and lied down beside Bruce. Then he scooted over until he was tucked up against Bruceâs side, feeling his body heat radiating even through the blanket. Maybe he really did have a fever. Bruce lifted one arm to accommodate, curling it around Dickâs shoulders as Dick used it as a pillow. Bruce must really have been feeling sick. He didnât stiffen or hesitate at all.
âSometimes adults have bad days. They justâ donât feel well.â
âBut wasnât last night a break?â
âIâ yeah. I guess.â
Dick hummed in thought. âIs it because you didnât go out?â
Bruce didnât answer.
Dick continued anyway, âIs it like when I donât go on the bars for a few days because of an injury? Like, I know the break is supposed to help my body feel better, but I also feel worse when I havenât done it in a while. Kinda⌠icky?â
A few seconds passed before Bruce said, âThatâs probably part of it.â
âPart of it?â
âYeah.â
âWhatâs the other part?â
He sighed again. âItâs just like that sometimes.â
Dick wrinkled his nose. He hated when Bruce said that. Usually, he was the adult that said that to Dick the least, explaining things even if a lot of the time Dick still didnât get it, but every so often, heâd close up and say âItâs just like that.â
âWhy donât you want to get up?â
âBecause I donât feel well.â
âBecause youâre sick?â
âBecause Iâm sick.â
Dick shifted a bit, feeling restless. âFresh air usually makes me feel better.â
Bruce held his breath, like he was trying not to sigh.Â
âWe should go out for ice cream.â
âNot today, Dick.â
âHow are you going to feel better if you donât get fresh air?â
âFresh air wonât make me feel better.â
âOh,â Dick said. He pursed his lips. âYou sure?â
This time, Bruce didnât hold in his sigh. He was doing that a lot. Dick kinda hoped he was breathing out all the sick from his body. Maybe sighing made him feel better.
They both lied there for another minute. Dick counted the seconds. Then he sat up suddenly. Bruce flinched.
âWhat if we have ice cream in bed?â
Bruce squinted up at him. âWhat?â
Dick hurried to scramble off the bed. âThatâll make you feel better. Iâll go ask Alfred.â
âWait, Dickâ no ice cream before dinner.â
Dick didnât look back, hopping over to the door as he said, âYeah, but you're sick! Alfred let me have ice cream after lunch when Carrie gave me the chicken pox, so itâs only fair.â
Then he was out the door.
#dick grayson#bruce wayne#dc robin#batman#battinson#or just regular ol' bruce#robin dick grayson#kid dick grayson#the joker#or âthat clown guyâ#alfred pennyworth#dc#dc comics#fic#fic ideas#i'm playing with the idea of making a fic with a bunch of snippets that show Dick's slow descent into parentification#so whether you take this happily or angstily is up to you#parentification#but it doesn't seem like it yet#it sneaks up on ya#rambles#i should clarify that my views on mental illness and violent crime do not align with child!dick's right?
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I think this is still an important addition.
Unrequited love but it's actually unrequited and now they have to navigate this new relationship where this revelation sits between them like a giant boulder,
and they're both just pretending there's not a giant fucking boulder, and one of them is plastered to the side of the boulder, wrapping their limbs around it as if they can hide from sight this Giant Fucking Boulder while the other politely looks away, but it's inevitable that their eyes are going to occasionally flick over because it's a Giant Fucking Boulder, and they're gonna wonder how they didn't see this before, how it could possibly escape their radar, and the other is desperately trying to figure out how to get rid of this boulder, and they're both just trying to live and continue this not romantic/sexual relationship around this GIANT FUCKING BOULDER.
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Unrequited love but it's actually unrequited and now they have to navigate this new relationship where this revelation sits between them like a giant boulder,
and they're both just pretending there's not a giant fucking boulder, and one of them is plastered to the side of the boulder, wrapping their limbs around it as if they can hide from sight this Giant Fucking Boulder while the other politely looks away, but it's inevitable that their eyes are going to occasionally flick over because it's a Giant Fucking Boulder, and they're gonna wonder how they didn't see this before, how it could possibly escape their radar, and the other is desperately trying to figure out how to get rid of this boulder, and they're both just trying to live and continue this not romantic/sexual relationship around this GIANT FUCKING BOULDER.
#unrequited love#fic tropes#ao3#fic prompt#fic ideas#I actually really like when characters are able to make a relationship work with two different types of affection#like loving each other romantically/platonically and still just loving each other so much that it works regardless#compromise of forehead/hair kisses and cuddling and movie nights and dinners. Because that can all be platonic and romantic#THEY STILL LOVE EACH OTHER EVEN IF IT'S SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT#anyway#sunmbles#writing prompt
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Can't believe life exists. It's not all just free time to write silly little fanfiction. Unbelievable.
#so no new chapter today. Gonna have to be next week ):#I'm really excited for this one. But I also want it to turn out good and not be rushed#I'll get there eventually#buried deep these memories#ao3
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buried deep, these memories
Chapter 7: it sticks, lingering on old tongues
Three attempts in two days. Jasonâs never known Dick to be this recklessâthis desperate. He should know that multiple failed attempts significantly lowers the likelihood of a successful escape. Three attempts, two days, one success. âââ It's been four years since the family lowered Dick's coffin into the ground, and Jason finally feels like heâs settling into his new job with the BAU. That is, until two people part of an illusive group called âSpyralâ arrive in custody. aka. Jason works for the BAU and Dick hasn't come back from Spyral.
Rating: Teen Words: 35k, 7/12 Relationships: Jason Todd & Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & BAU Members, Jason Todd & Emily Prentiss, Jason Todd & Batfamily Members Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, David Rossi, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Tim Drake, Paris Pantoja, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne (Mentioned)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62983582/chapters/167268004
#jason todd#dick grayson#emily prentiss#derek morgan#david rossi#jennifer jj jareau#spencer reid#aaron hotchner#penelope garcia#tim drake#duke thomas#cassandra cain#barbara gordon#bruce wayne#paris pantoja#criminal minds#dc#batman#grayson comics#spyral#agent 37#forgetmesunflower fic#my fic
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buried deep, these memories
Chapter 6: as though you never existed in the first place
Turning to face Duke more fully, Jason asked, âHold on, is this about you being a meta?â Dukeâs hands fell to his sides, swinging once, twice, before stopping stiff against his hips. âMan, I canât hold a candle to Tim in sparring. Even after over two years I donât last ten seconds if heâs not holding back. I donât know, I justâ I love what I have, what I can do, donât get me wrong, but sometimesâ I guess sometimes I forget when Iâm standing next to Tim or Cass or you, and I get too caught up in what I canât do. I know it ainât healthy to think that way, but you guys are all so great without any powers, and heââ He glanced up at the photo on the wall. âWell, he was the best.â âââ It's been four years since the family lowered Dick's coffin into the ground, and Jason finally feels like heâs settling into his new job with the BAU. That is, until two people part of an illusive group called âSpyralâ arrive in custody. aka. Jason works for the BAU and Dick hasn't come back from Spyral.
Can't believe chapters 4-6 were originally meant to be all one chapter... Which means this is technically: For @criminalmindsxdc's CMxDC Week 2025 Day 7 PART TWO: "Life is a hell of a thing to happen to a person."
Rating: Teen Words: 27.4k, 6/12 Relationships: Jason Todd & Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & BAU Members, Jason Todd & Emily Prentiss, Jason Todd & Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Duke Thomas Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, David Rossi, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Original Male Character(s), Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne (Mentioned), Paris Pantoja, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon (Mentioned)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62983582/chapters/165779947
#it's so incredibly late that i'm not even sure i should be tagging the account anymore#and i still have plans for days 2 and 5 but they might not be written/posted for another month... maybe more.#these chapters keep ending up thrice their intended length.#criminal minds x dc#cmxdc2025#day 7#âlife is a hell of a thing to happen to a person.â#jason todd#dick grayson#emily prentiss#derek morgan#david rossi#jennifer jj jareau#spencer reid#aaron hotchner#penelope garcia#tim drake#duke thomas#barbara gordon#bruce wayne#paris pantoja#this is one of two fics with that character tag apparently#criminal minds#dc#batman#grayson comics#spyral#agent 37#forgetmesunflower fic#my fic
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