#AND if we track the progression of tim's hair from robin to red robin

[pokeberry5]

thug beatdown round 2: electric boogaloo

(extras, cw flashing gif:)

alt:

the fit:

[iphoenixrising]

More on the Robinpile Soulmate au

You know, babes, people and their wonderful, encouraging comments on that work in progress are fucking beautiful, so.

I’m going to put a little snippet down that’s probably going to rip at your heart strings and spoil the story a bit for you if you decide to read this small bit. So, just FYI Spoiler. 

But, if you’d like a little more on how that story is going to go, welp. here you are *bows*

Note: not formatted or beta read. 

After so much careful planning and preparation, Plan C is a go. 

Robin is running over rooftops, scanning every shadow for a hint of Red Robin in Gotham. Nightwing and the Red Hood, Black Bat, Batgirl, and Signal are all in crucial parts of the city, on the lookout as well.

He, Jason, and Dick have spent weeks preparing for this, hoping their last-ditch effort would be enough to convince Tim his time as Robin hadn’t been in vain, that he was still, would always be a Bat. 

That is the goal tonight, not to try convincing him to give them a chance as soulmates because that is likely impossible, but they could start a much more important mission, to try in their own ways to give him back something they’d all taken. To try to show they knew what they’d done to him, and perhaps could start them on the road to make it right.

(He hopes there’s still a chance.)

Fabrication didn’t take long, but the coupe de gras certainly did. 

Word Red Robin would be in Gotham on the down-low gave them a chance to finally act, and Oracle promised them she would do her best to stall their soulmate until Robin could get to him.

And it’s a pang of pain, a lightning strike, when he catches up with Red on the roof of the Wallstone Apartments. The memory of the cut grapple line in the foreground of Robin’s thoughts.

“Please help,” Robin makes himself fall off his grapple to his knees, bent over, panting. “Red Robin, please.” 

(Not all of it is an act, not with how hard he was running to get to Red before he vanished into the city.)

The older vigilante kneels by him, out of immediate reach. 

“Where?” Is Tim’s Red Robin voice, a hand almost reaches out, clenches tight at the last second to draw back, and Robin sees the aborted move, has a flare of hope.

“Cannery Row–” and Robin rocks to the side, looks up at that closed expression, dares to let the fluttering in his chest give him strength.

Hands and arms around him, steady him, pull him up on his knees. He thinks about the grip Red Robin has on his shoulders to hold him up, how tightly Tim is able to hold on. A finger taps his mask so the whiteouts slide up, taking away some of his nightvision. He’s not concussed, is perfectly fine, but through his research, an injured (seemingly) teammate in need is one of Tim’s weaknesses. 

“Robin–”

“We need you, there is too much happening in the city tonight. We are all stretched too thin,” and there is nothing but the truth in his eyes, his demeanor, the way his gloved hand tightens in the cape over Red’s shoulder. 

“All right, stay here, call Hood or N to pick you up–”

But Robin staggers to his feet, “I can’t. I must get you to the safehouse. Everything we need is there.”

He keeps himself from a triumphant bellow when Red Robin paces him to the edge of the roof, grapple already in hand. 

Luckily, Cannery Row is close enough they don’t have to go far, just their past hanging between them, the connection that’s agonizingly cold and silent even when they’re side-by-side. 

Robin lands it this time on the roof of the familiar warehouse. He taps the comm unit on as he touches down, hopes Red won’t notice. 

They climb through a service elevator shaft, the two of them prying open the doors once they hit the underground floor. 

“Give me the details,” Red’s whole body tense as they lower themselves down into the darkness.

“Black Bat is in the Central Business District, Hood is by the Iceburg Lounge, Nightwing is in the Diamond District. Father is tracking down leads for a case, Batgirl is on her way to the Steel Mill. We still have no coverage for the situation in the City Hall District, but you cannot go alone.”

When they get the doors pried open, when Red Robin was close enough for his cape to brush against his, the underground is revealed in shadows, just as he, Jason, and Richard left it a few hours earlier.

(This is a newer Batman Incorporated holding. Robin is banking on the fact Tim might not know this, his heart starting to beat harder, faster when they get closer to the first stage of Plan C.)

The lights kick on as planned, and in the large expansive floor, a drop-cloth-covered something waits.

That’s all.

Red Robin is looking around for anything, searching for traps, evidence, something to give him an idea of what he’s walking into, back pressed against the elevator before he starts to step out. 

His vigilante instincts aren’t going crazy, but he stays close to the shadows as he sneaks out, leaving Robin behind in the elevator shaft to stay or follow.

(Where Damian has the next step in the plan waiting, a duffle bag he’d hidden in the panel of the elevator shaft. He’s fast and silent, throwing off his gloves, gauntlets, cape, and utility belt–)

His instincts still aren’t blaring dangerdangerdanger and his wrist computer isn’t picking up any foreign tech when Red Robin finally gets to the drop-cloth with a frown, wondering if they’ve come across a piece of shady tech or something. 

Which is really the only explanation for why Robin would come to him at all, everyone else busy in Gotham notwithstanding. 

He grips the cloth and pulls hard, muscles tense for whatever fuckey waits for him underneath. 

When he gets an eyeful, his knees go terribly weak for a long painful moment as he stares at–

The Red Bird.

“Oh...fuck,” because his eyes are instantly hot and full, making him blink rapidly behind the whiteouts.

And it gleams in the overhead lights, red and black and shiny, looks like it did the day Bruce showed it to him in the Cave, ready to tear into the night. 

His chest hitches and the possibility this could be a cruel joke hits him hard enough to choke.

(It’s because he rejected them. This sick shit is because he refused to let bygones be bygones.)

“Open the door, Tim. Everything you will need tonight is ready for you.” 

It’s Dami’s voice echoing behind him, not Robin’s, and Red can’t bring himself to look away, too many things churning in his brain pan around the shock and anger and regret and grief. It might be stupid for him to reach out, to make his wobbly knees work, to open the door with a bigger hand than the last time he did this. 

The inside is immaculate, even after years of disuse that Red Robin has to wonder how and why and what the absolute fuck is happening here?

But on the seat, folded neatly with all the bells and whistles, the shuriken R on the red tunic gleams bright in the halogen glow. His throat gets tight when he realizes it’s his original red, gold, and green–the colors of joy. 

The colors from the best years, before it all started to go horribly wrong.

A noise comes out of him, something low and pained before he can rein it in, before he can remind himself he’s already moved past the point this should still mean something. 

(But it does, it always has, it’s always meant so much, especially back when he was just a kid in a silent, empty house. It meant he had a place, a purpose, a presence at his back when things got to be too much, too overwhelming.)

And it’s stupid how helpless he is, how some part of him –small and weak as it is– can’t stop himself from reaching out to touch, to grab, to try to hold the fuck on.

(Not because of the name itself, never that, but everything he’d lost the second it had all been taken away. A final nail in the coffin, back to being that boy in an empty house.)

When he reaches for the suit, he holds it in both hands like he’s seeing things, chest stuttering on a breath when the scent of new leather and Kevlar proves he hasn’t been drugged or the sleep dep severely fucking with him. 

Stepping from the shadows, no longer in Robin but a black suit of some nameless ninja, Damian Wayne is holding the hood and face covering he’s going to wear for the night, waits until he sees how his soulmate will react to this possibly disastrous plan. 

He takes careful, tentative steps closer, taking in the hunched shoulders, bowed head, reaching into the Bond when it is ice cold in his chest.

“Wh-what the fuck is this?” Hoarse and painful from his, their Tim. And Dami’s hands automatically reach out in desperation to comfort before he remembers himself and hesitates. 

Even if the Bond on his side is closed, cold, silent, Damian breathes in and attempts to send calming, soothing feelings, tries to let his own emotions, his hope, his affection, his protectiveness, his respect, his reverence for this man be available should the Bond at any moment open even slightly. 

His soulmate’s rigid control to close himself off from them comes from years of training, of trying to protect himself is such a point of pain that some part of him thinks the three of them together could crash through if they tried, could break down those walls by force. 

But he’s here tonight, had worked so hard with N and Hood and Father and Batgirl and Black Bat and Oracle to plan it all, set it all up, because he’s different now, has learned what his actions had cost him, has realized he can’t go back to the old ways. 

Instead, he hopes they will have this last chance, will give Tim enough reasons to open up without fear, without pain.

(“It started with taking the cape,” Dick thinks aloud once the three of them are together after a long night, finding comfort, “he thinks he was kicked out of the family, so...this shouldn’t have been about soulmates in the first place.”

“I do not understand, Beloved,” Dami yawns, buried himself deeper against Jason’s chest.

“It’s not about gettin’ him like that, Sweets,” Jay replies, stroken a hand through his hair. “Might never happen…” 

“But, we could give him back some of what we took. He could finally come home again–”

Dami’s eyes open, “we...could give him back his place in the family. Or at least try to do so. Is that what you are saying?”

“Hm,” Jay grunts out, arms stealthy when he wraps them both up, rolls to put himself in the middle, “sounds like we godda last resort, now don’t it?”

“We’ll call it Plan C since it’s our last chance.”)

Plan C, indeed.

“Tim,” and he gives them only a few feet of space, no domino, no hood, no face coverings, no masks, holds up both hands in what he hopes is a peaceful gesture. 

Red Robin spins with a growl, muscles tense in fight or flight, ready to throw the fuck down because why fix up the Red Bird and bring it here of all places? What game is this? Haven’t they broken him enough?

But Damian isn’t in the tunic he was wearing less than ten minutes ago, and Red Robin stops cold at the obviously planned costume change.  He takes a careful step away from the very familiar suit Damian is wearing now, one that looks crazily like B’s when he was Tengu, trying to get himself back enough to take the cowl from Jean-Paul back when shit was crazy but even then he still had Nightwing at his back and–and…

What is wrong with him? He hasn’t thought about any of this in years. 

But still. But still, his eyes go to the gleaming Red Bird, and those better times well up from within, a place so deep, he’d convinced himself he’d left all of it behind. 

(Nightwing and Spoiler, school and the Cave, new baddies in Gotham to throw more crazy into the Rogue Gallery mix, teenage angst and sidekick wins, people at his back and front even in the worst of times. Being Red for the Titans was good, so good, but not ever the same. Not like it was when he was that Robin.)

He’s still holding the tunic in both hands, fists clenching it tight like something would have to pry his hands open to take it away (again) when what he really needs to do is throw it back in the Bird and get the absolute fuck out of here. Because this isn’t his anymore, apparently never should have been if the last few years were any kind of indication on the Tim Drake policy. 

“This is cruel, even for you,” is snarly and low, is simmering anger trying to cover up old pain, pissing him off even more because he’d finally gotten to the place where he could forget for a while. 

(And he’ll get there again. Even after all this.)

He makes his fingers unclench, throws the tunic back on the driver’s seat, but none of that covers up how hoarse his voice is, how tight his chest feels.

Dami just moves one hand, slowly pulls out his phone, thumbs the pass code to unlock the screen, and turns the device around to show Red what’s doing on the main screen.

His brain doesn’t process the image that’s him, one of the few existing pictures from years ago when he was still with Young Justice, the one of the core four making stupid faces, torn up from whatever space battle they’d just come back from, half-insane with sleep deprivation and injuries, only back to the planet for moments to celebrate not dying with pizza and Zestis, arms thrown around each other with rips and bruises and blood still staining the uniforms.

Why the fuck it meant something to Damian is the real question. 

“I was wrong, when I came to the Tower,” Damian takes a tentative step toward him, still holding the phone out like a distraction that was really a message. “I told you I wanted to know this man you are now. The man that is one of my soulmates. However...however, I was wrong, Tim. You were my soulmate even back then. You were mine, and even if you weren’t, you were already part of the family when I came to Father, and I did not even give you a chance. I did not see how important you were, what lengths you went to make that symbol your own.  I was terrified, young, foolish, but that is no excuse. What I should have been doing all this time is learning who you were back then before I attempted to approach you. Only by knowing that boy could I hope to understand this man.”

Wait, what now? How is this happening right now? All the awful things he’d secretly wanted to hear from the blood son, another chosen one. Another crux of his tangled emotions.

“I already told you I don’t need fucking soulmates. I rejected you.” He bites out, trying to breathe, trying to shove those emotions back down where they belong, trying to pretend the sight of the car, the tunic, the things he used to call his own, can’t touch him anymore. 

(But it still has power, so much fucking power to break him down to this, that scared kid in an empty house.)

After all these years, he’s moved on...right?

“I know, Beloved,” Dami puts his phone away, green eyes never leaving Red Robin’s tense form. “But this? Tonight? This has nothing to do with soulmates.”

Which is absolutely not what he expects to hear.

“Tonight is about my predecessor, Beloved, not my soulmate. This is for the Robin that stood in Gotham before me,” and it’s gentle in ways Red Robin never imagined Damian could be, not with him. “This,” and Damian sweeps a hand over the car, the suit, “is for the brother we never should have driven away. The one who gave this name his own brand of honor and power, the one who carved a place for himself in the family. Not as the third Robin in line, but as the first Tim Drake.”

Red Robin’s hands fall enough to be less of a threat. Other than that, he isn’t moving, is listening even if it’s grudgingly, even if it’s with disbelief, even if it’s with skepticism, and Damian smiles softly, so softly, at this beautiful, broken man before him.

“My place?” Is hoarse, a warmer edge that isn’t blank coldness, isn’t so much control. “In case you missed it, my place hasn’t mattered in the last few fucking years–”

“Hasn’t it?” And Dami’s eyes are so green, dark jade that catches in the light, easy to pick out. “Hasn’t it mattered?”

The obvious drawback is an opening, a misstep in the detective’s assumptions that Dami takes the opportunity for what it is.

“I know how it must seem,” and he makes himself stop stepping forward when every instinct in his body screams to approach, to reach out, to take this man in his arms, to whisper endearments, to apologize until the tears dry, until Tim’s arms can unlock, until he can start with the smallest measure of belief with splashes of powerful violet.  

“I know the years we’ve let you draw further away. I know there’s been disdain and cruelty until that’s all there was between us. And I did not choose to acknowledge it, my wrongdoings. It was easier to hide, Tim, just as it was for Jason and Richard and Father. We were cowards, but not once in all these years have you ever been simply forgotten.”

And here is where preparation for their detective is perfectly done when Damian whips out his utility belt computer and quietly holds it out, his hand trembling ever so slightly.

The evidence is there in clips of Todd sneaking into a familiar penthouse apartment with a bag of coffee in hand or taking a First Aid kit from under the kitchen counter to restock it, it’s there when video shows Richard in the Batsuit, in Nightwing, in Officer Grayson, in workout clothes, in jeans and t-shirt with both hands always pressed to the glass case with Tim’s first Robin suit, it’s there when Father sits on the bed in Tim’s old room over the years with a familiar shining, shuriken R flipping over the fingers of one hand. It’s there in the attempted hacks of Titan’s Tower when the Batcomputer pings with alerts of a bad fight for the Titans. It’s there in all the protocols when Ra’s starts movement against Red Robin, when their worst enemies are cataloged to the nines and contingencies from each member of the Batfamily are so obviously ready.

(With some pride in himself, Dami is the one that came up with the plan to take down Brother Blood, while Jason’s shoot-now-ask-questions-later is crucial to dealing with The Light. Grayson’s  experience with the Fearsome Five, Father’s methodical touch to deal with The Insiders.)

It’s there in the smallest details they’d silently done over the years (these things happening without the need to point out how necessary and does Damian ache with the knowledge how easy it could have been to reach out so many, many times), could be enough at a glance to start the seedlings of doubt in Red Robin’s firm belief his place has simply been forgotten.

And Damian hears it in the catch of breath, a soft inward draw. He can’t see behind the whiteouts of Red Robin’s mask, but he hopes, hopes there might be a spark of indecision.

“You were never forgotten.” Gently, Damian reaches out slowly, just enough to close gloved fingers over the screen. “But, you don’t need to hear it from me, Beloved, you need real proof and that we shall provide tonight. Get changed. You’re needed.”

Conflicted as fuck, Red Robin processes as much as he can in that few minutes, muscles in his shoulders unbearably tight. “I’m not going to just patrol with the Bats, especially under your name.”

“It is not as simple as patrol, I’m afraid. We have several Arkham escapees, a possible gang war, and several other take downs lined up,” which is the absolute truth. “I did not lie when I said we needed your help with the overwhelming criminal activity in the last twelve hours.”

Carefully planned twelve hours for one night they’ve been putting into motion for months. 

With the computer in hand, feeling more vulnerable than he’s felt behind the mask in years, Red Robin grits his teeth because only the Bats can do this to him. “I can still help the hell out without the bullshit emotional manipulation. Let me guess, this is Dick’s idea.”

“All of us had a hand in it, actually. The Red Bird itself was my idea. Jason and Father helped to restore it to its former glory. Dick, however, had the idea to make it authentic with the suit.”

“Do you even know how messed up this is for me?” Tumbles right out when he wants cold fury, when he wants to snarl at the obvious manipulation at play–

(while being stupidly impressed they actually seemed to know him to put all the pieces in place, make him play right into their hands with a well thought-out plan. Fuck.)

“The point of all of this, Tim, is to give you one last Robin Ride.”

Cue being at a total loss here because what multiverse did he fall into? Seriously, this can’t be his world, not when those words popped out of Damian’s mouth, and along with it, so many possibilities looming right in front of him.

At the same time, dread crawls up his throat, spills bitter into his mouth.

“Even if you never want us, we will, as you said, learn to live with it.” Damian fights to keep it neutral as just the thought of continuing on in this way as they have for weeks, always aware of the empty spot where their fourth should be, makes him cold all over. Still, this cannot be for them, not if they are serious about setting things right in the only way they can. “Even if that is the case, Tim, I...we. We still want to give you this,” his hand sweeps over the Red Bird again.

Because it’s all so much in one go, things he never thought he’d hear, never could have thought would be offered. Unconsciously, his eyes go to the gleaming fender behind the whiteouts. “None of this is– I brought the Bird back years ago so B could remake it for you.”

And Dami chances one more step closer, “but it is yours, Tim. Father made it for you, to keep you safe, and it will always be yours, Robin or not. It should have been given back to you long before tonight, and for that, I apologize.” He tries smiling just a little, “but, better late than never as they say.”

Red’s got nothing for that, for any of this, stares helplessly while Damian pulls on the hood and face covering, only his green eyes visible. 

Red’s jaw is tight, clenching down because he finally gets it. He isn’t going to wake up in the Tower, asleep at his workstation, thinking this is a terribly embarrassing message from his subconscious.

“You will need this,” and Damian holds out a hand again. This time, a Batcomm rests in his palm. “The others are waiting for you, Robin.”

“I-I can’t–” because this is fucking real, this is really happening. As much as he’s sure Damian is bullshitting him about this not being a soulmate thing, his eyes are still getting hot, his chest aching, his throat tight. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Damian counters gently. “We...I owe you this. Dick will argue he does also. Jason as well. We cannot give you the things we have taken, not completely. As much as I wish we could change things, overcome our own insecurities to remind you that you will always have a place…” Dami sighs, “we cannot go back, either. Not really, but in order to go forward, we can give you the proof you need to see you have always had a place. So, just for tonight, Tim, be our Robin again.”

Damian doesn’t give him time to formulate a reply while he feels like he just got fucking stabbed hearing that out of the current Robin’s mouth. 

“This is wrong, this isn’t–”

Damian lays the Batcomm on the top of the car and slowly backs away, melting into the shadows.

“On the contrary,” echoes around him and the lights go out in the underground, only a section of them lighting up the Red Bird. “This may be the one thing we’ve gotten right.” 

The flutter of paper he hadn’t noticed is on the ground from where he’d tossed the old/new suit. 

The chime on his wrist computer is a surprising upload of locations in Gotham pinging his algorithm, indicating a little vigilante action wouldn’t be amiss. Damian apparently wasn’t lying about too many fires and too few Bats. But, there’s too much happening in hot spots, and he won’t make the most crucial if he’s swinging. He needs a Ducati or–

His eyes go back to it, another symbol of his best days. Back when he could call himself a Bat, and it wouldn’t have been a lie.

Under the mask, Tim Drake breathes out, shuttering through the old pain that lights up his brain pan. 

He could turn right the fuck around and walk out of this warehouse with his heart still in check, with his emotions back under control. He could reject this attempt as sure as he’s been rejected for years. 

But the tiny part of him that’s always mourned the loss of his tunic is a stronger voice this time, and his hands twitch in his gloves before moving to pick up the discarded suit again, to look at those short sleeves, the green gloves, the shuriken R that was his design – not Damian’s or Jay’s or Dick’s but his. 

The suit blurs and Red Robin realizes it’s because his eyes are spilling over behind the whiteouts.

[iwritethat]

Tim Drake: Sister, Sister

Tim Drake x Sister!reader

A/N: This beautiful idea was all down to @comicsgirlimagines who is truly wonderful and an incredible writer also (check them out), credit goes to them for their support and talks when writing this.

Thank you @comicsgirlimagines ♥️

>>>>——————————>

It was ironic, everything around was designed to perfection, to be exactly what you wanted and needed to maintain a positive existence as a reward for your past choices on Earth.

Yes, Heaven may've been perfect and brought you endless happiness but you were conscious enough to find the faults, for a start your brother was absent - which of course was a blessing, you didn't want him to join you for as long as possible, he had his whole life to live after all. It was entrancing, tuning in to the life events of Tim Drake on occasion, your little brother had certainly taken an interesting path - currently he fought with his new brothers, the League of Assassins were after Damian again and it automatically became a family emergency.

They hopped from rooftop to rooftop, battling various members with each vigilante fighting their own battles yet managing to lend assistance when able. However as you watched on, Red Robin seemed to be doubled down - more assassins were upcoming and he was the first standing in their way. You began to panic, was there even a way to get down there?! You'd looked into such things before as soon as you learned of his hobby, sure you were dead but people constantly connected with the spirit world - such a phenomena should work both ways. Or at least it was a theory under construction at the moment.

———

Another down, then another, and another. It became routine, but with repetitive strain came exhaustion and before Tim could react he'd made what was soon to be a fatal mistake, he should’ve ducked the blade gunning for his throat but instead was a millisecond too late to react. His body falling short of available counters and it was then he realised, this was it - after everything, this was finally how he’d go out. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, he’d aided more people than he ever thought possible but surely there were things he’d miss out on like having the opportunity to become a father, get married or even see Gotham make progress as a city. Regardless, he had made his peace with that and he’d closed his eyes in acceptance ready for whatever awaited him in the afterlife.

It was a split second - he never thought the white light actually existed but it flashed behind his eyelids rather sporadically and suddenly the breath was knocked out of lungs and it felt as though his head collided with concrete.

"Jeez I'll be back soon, don't worry." His sister gave an exasperated sigh, hands on her hips as her little brother tugged at her backpack.

"But (Y/n)! Please let me come with you!" Tim pleaded, successfully halting her in her tracks.

"No way kiddo, you'll probably fall off of the mountain. But hey, no matter how far apart we are, I'll always look out for you. Okay?" She smiled, tousling his hair as he accepted her justification.

"You promise?"

"I pinky promise."

"Hmm, see you when you get back loser." Tim mischievously commented, his sister rolled her eyes with a sarcastic "Oh haha." before heading off on her rock climbing trip.

That was the last time he'd laid eyes on her, unbeknownst to him at the time. And yet, this light, this warm familiar presence brought back such memories - of that day, of the news, of the funeral...

So then, how is it that he could hear her voice so clearly?

"Get up Tim! C'mon loser, I don't know how long I've got!" It was dangerously loud, demanding almost and it made him consider how things hadn’t changed much.

Tim was coming to, clenching his eyes shut in order to adjust to the bright glow that shrouded the area as he sat up with a squint.

"Argh, (Y/n) what the-?"

The figure kneeling down beside him was easily recognisable, having not aged in the years that had passed without her but the concerned expression she wore was contagious.

"No time to explain, magic spiritual existence or whatever but please get up. Here's your staff." You pulled him to his feet, albeit Tim remained dazed with these developments and stumbled against your figure with a groan. His staff was pushed into his chest and it was only now - dream or not - he spoke his true feelings.

"I missed you, so much..."

“I know...” The sincerity in his voice only made you feel guilty, the accident wasn’t your fault but you still left him and that was a weight you’d carried since you’d died.

Tim was slowly adjusting, finding what seemed to be a brief flash of wings behind you but that must’ve been from hitting his head so hard considering he now stood on the opposing rooftop to previously. Recalling the last moments his hand shot to his throat, more than shocked when his fingers remained absent of blood and his breathing was perfectly normal ignoring the quickness of it, next he looked back to where he was standing beforehand only to find bodies of assassins littering the roof and battles continuing over the street.

“Am I dead?”

“What? No. I’m dead, you’re alive.” You quickly corrected with furrowed brows and a sigh, flicking his forehead as he pushed your hand away in retaliation.

Although he paused, the familiarity of sibling like antics hitting him with an unwanted wave of nostalgia and he looked at you again - really looked. Saw past the golden glow, saw past the perfect skin and any evidence of scathes or aging. It was you but ethereal, you weren’t alive, you weren’t staying and you definitely weren’t coming back to life. That was what made him embrace you, arms wrapping around your torso so tightly that if alive then breathing would be a problem but you didn’t care, his face buried in your hair whilst you held back emotional whimpers. For however long you had been gifted, you’d say goodbye properly this time.

“I’m sorry for breaking my promise, so sorry, please please forgive me Tim -“

“Yo-you didn’t break it idiot.” It was such a soft whisper, an attempt to comfort you even if he didn’t understand your reasoning for profuse apologies.

“I didn’t come home, I left you alone and that’s the worst thing I could’ve done as your sister!” You defended, justifying your beliefs and pulling away from Tim who offered a soft smile amidst his watery eyes.

“You promised that no matter how far apart we are, you’d always look out for me and you have. (Y/n) you saved my life just now - how many people have the willpower to come back from the grave to do that? But you did that for me, you kept your promise.” Tim assured, wiping your tears away before hugging you once more.

“I’m proud of you y’know, kicking names and taking ass.” You weakly laughed, parting to punch his shoulder once regaining your composure.

“So you keep up with the times in the afterlife huh?”

“It gets boring up there okay? Speaking of, you should get back to fighting beside your family - who I love by the way.” You happily informed, gesturing over time the members of the Batfamily fighting various battles with a sad knowing smile.

Tim noticed the sorrow in your irises, the way you turned back to him like it was the last time you’d be with each other and it probably was but he simply sighed and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“You’re still my favourite sibling and as such I guess I should take your advice.” Tim softly commented and with an understanding nod a bright light engulfed his form once more.

This time he’d landed in the most heated area of the fight, landing executed perfectly with an immense rupture of light knocking out every enemy on impact. Tim stood, his family turning to him awestruck at the amount of unfathomable controlled power that originated from his form and how exactly he’d seemingly beamed over out of thin air.

“Later Timbers, and by the way I think you should stop crushing on Steph and ask her out already.” Your voice remained, albeit fleeting, as was your figure standing beside him overlooking your handiwork.

“Wha- you can’t know all of my business zombie!” He went to knock your upper arm, fingers phasing straight through your body and you both mirrored sympathetic expressions, a knowing and meaningful exchange enough to say what words couldn’t.

“I’m so happy for you Tim, stay alive okay?” And with that your figure faded into blissful golden stardust that spiralled into wind up toward the matte sky until they’d disappeared from Tim’s line of sight.

“Goodbye (Y/n)...”

——

“What was that out there Tim? A new gadget?” Bruce questioned his former partner once they returned to the Batcave whilst Tim got out his phone with an absentminded smile.

“My sister.”

“You have a sister, why didn’t you ever mention it?” Dick now inquired, walking in step beside him.

“Because you’d want to meet her and that’s, that’s impossible but her name was (Y/n). Here, this was us a few years ago.” Tim answered honestly, the implications easily read by his family who remained respectfully quiet until Tim handed Dick his phone which displayed a picture of the two of you. The others gathering around out of curiosity.

“Damn she’s hot.” Jason casually commented, reviving a facepalm from Cass and chiding from an irritated Damian.

“Todd, that’s completely irrelevent!”

“She has standards Jay sorry, but, she really likes you guys.” Tim smugly replied, his last words laced with underlying gratitude whilst Jason received over dramatic ‘ooohs’ from the rest of the family after that smart burn. Although Tim saw the contentment on each of them, that despite not knowing you, they had your blessing as his new family which was a very sacred thing in their opinion.

Once he’d regained his own space, he began typing a message he never thought he’d write until after your encounter.

Tim: [Hey Steph, I’ve been told I need to act on things so I was wondering if you wanted to go out this weekend? Not in costume, just as you and I.]

Stephanie: [About time Tim, who do I have to thank for your sudden confidence haha?]

Tim gave a relieved smile at the positive reply, looking up to the sky before asking with a proud yet considerate tone.

“You happy now?”

He would’ve said the sun broke through the cloudy sky of Gotham for a few seconds, golden rays bathing the Manor grounds and his skin - but that was probably unrelated coincidence...

[pinapple-qween]

Batman and the P.I.

Relationship: Batfam x Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator and you were hired to get insight into the Wayne family.

Key: Y/N= your name, L/N= your last name

Warning: Language, mentions of abuse

A/N: This is like, fucking long bro. Have fun!

You sat in your office, going through old photo sets and deleting the bad pictures and enhancing the better ones then downloading them to two external hard drives. Hey, you never know what’s gonna happen and what you may need.

This is how you spend your off time, the occasional appointment popping up, but day time wasn’t when you did your work. You were a private investigator and you knew that most dirty deeds happened in the darkness of the night. You were decently well off, Gotham always seemed to be in need of a P.I., so you weren’t terribly worried when you had a more quiet day.

That was when he busted into your office.

“Are you Y/N L/N?”

Not bothering to look up from your computer, you yawned and replied, “Who’s asking?”

He slammed his hands on your desk. You lazily lifted you head to look at the man. He was a average looking businessman, his hair a little wild, his shirt was not tucked in and his tie was loose around his neck. “Are you, or are you not Y/N L/N?”

“Yeah,” your voice expressing your disgust, “And who the hell are you?”

“I’m Cole Roman and I need to hire you.”

You snorted, “Why else would you be in my office?”

“I’m not here to kid around. Listen, I know there is something up with Bruce Wayne, something weird, and I need you to figure out what it is.” You were about to laugh again, but his face was deadly serious.

“You’re serious about this, huh? Alright, sure. I’ll follow around the most important man in Gotham, but it’s gonna cost you. Big.”

Cole nodded solemnly and handed you a bag. You peeked inside. There was quite a few bundles of Benjamins. You looked back up at the man, nothing in his eyes wavered. 

“This’ll do. What information are you looking for?”

“I work at Wayne Enterprises in accounting and I’ve found some discrepancies in finances. I want to know where that money is actually going. I want to be able to expose him. Whatever he’s using that money for, it’s gotta be big and obviously expensive.”

“That’s a start.”

You infiltrated Wayne Enterprise three days later as a mail room attendant. It wasn’t too difficult and it gave you access to Cole Roman’s computer on an unrestricted basis. Every chance you got you would slip into his office and hack further into the Wayne Enterprise system, trying to get as much information as possible. That afternoon you made some big progress.

Tim noticed it first. Someone was getting further and further into the computer system, and one of his alarms triggered. Whoever it was seemed to be looking for the “Batman Expenses”, the nickname Tim had given to the expense reports that went to gadgets Bruce and Lucius worked on for Batman.

Slightly worried because of how close the person had gotten to the reports, Tim decided to pay a visit to Bruce’s office.

Tim approached the receptionist, “Hey Becca, Bruce in?”

Becca looked up from her computer and smiled. “Hi Timmy! Yes, Bruce is in, but he did ask to not be disturbed until lunch.”

“Well, can you let him know that it’s really important. Like, terribly important.” Tim gave her a pleading smile.

“Okay, okay! Give me one moment,” she held up a finger as she used the phone, “Yes, Hello Mr. Wayne. Mr. Drake is here, he says he has something important to discuss with you. Uh huh. Yes, I know. He was very insistent. I’ll let him know. Thank you!” She nodded to Tim and he thanked her then walked in.

“Tim,” Bruce stood from his desk and approached him, “What’s wrong?”

Tim explained the situation. As he talked, he watched Bruce’s face get more and more concerned. When he finished, Bruce had sat back down at his desk and steepled his fingers.

When Bruce finally spoke, his voiced was strained, “This is not good Tim.”

“I know that, why else do you think I came to you?” Tim’s hands flew up to his hair. “Bruce, what the hell are we gonna do?”

“We aren’t going to freak out. We need to figure out who is doing this. Come here,” he motioned for Tim to come to the other side of his desk, “We need to look into the usage data, see if we can track the IP address.”

Bruce began pulling up the advance computer accessing programs and Tim borrowed Bruce’s laptop and did the same, they both looked for irregular IP’s that may have broken into Wayne Enterprise’s systems.

Hours passed and they could find nothing irregular. Getting frustrated, Bruce leaned back in his chair. That was when he noticed the pattern.

“Tim do you see that?” Tim looked at Bruce confused. “Right there, and there. And again a few rows down.”

“Holy shit- yeah Bruce. But that’s...that’s one of ours.”

“We need to figure out who that is and fast.”

Your “shift” ended just an hour before sundown, when the real work begins. You left Wayne Enterprises, much more informed than when you entered and made your way back to your office. Once you go there, you wrote down all the numbers from the expense sheet you memorized, not that you really needed to, but sometimes it was helpful to be able to match the numbers with the pictures.

You got your camera and stealth supplies together and made your way to Wayne Manor. Slipping through the gate, you tip-toed over sensors and motion detectors to place yourself in a tree not to close to the building itself, but far enough to be able to get pictures of all the floors. You were slightly surprised that Bruce Wayne didn’t seen to have any blackout curtains on any of his windows, but you guessed he assumed no one could get past his security systems.

You waited patiently until you could see a fancy car pull up to the house around the corner. The driver exited and opened the passenger side door to release a boy, no more than ten, you listened to the boy complain about school as he walked into the manor. Damian Wayne, you thought, Not connected to the data, moving on. You took a closer look at the driver, he was an older man, well dressed. Alfred Pennyworth, probably connected, closer investigation. Not long after those two had enter the manor, another even fancier car pulled up. Bruce Wayne exited the driver side and Timothy Wayne exited the passenger side. Strong data connections, investigate both, you noted as they walked inside.

It was midnight before anything else of informational value happened. As you were scouting the manor, you noted two more men and two girls inside. You noticed Richard Grayson immediately, noting he probably has a strong connection. The other man wasn’t a normal associate of the Wayne family, he was a bigger guy with a white streak in his black hair. The girls were Cassandra Wayne and Stephanie Brown, girlfriend of Timothy, Cassandra was noted as involved but Stephanie was noted uninvolved. Weirdly, all of the people in the house appeared together in what seemed to be a study. You watched them through your camera trying to understand what was happening. It was hard to make out, but then something even more strange happened. They all walked behind the only thing obstructing your view and never returned.

It was bizarre. Every last one of them, gone. Even Alfred Pennyworth. This piqued your interest. You slowly made descent from your perch and slipped into the manor. Stepping lightly, you weaved through the maze of the manor and found the study. Looking around the door frame carefully, you found it was completely empty, like no one had ever entered. You wandered into the room and looked around, taking a few pictures here and there, and tried to find the spot that was obstructed from your tree view. You found it as the grandfather clock against the wall. You studied the clock, the time was wrong.

Carefully, you reached out and pushed the minute hand slightly. The clock shuttered and began to slide aside, revealing a hidden staircase. Refusing to let yourself back out, you began silently descending to a secret level.

“-breach is from within.” You could hear the tail end of someone’s conversation. You pressed yourself against the rock wall at the end of the staircase. You took out you camera and flipped the screen so you could see what was going on beyond the wall. In the screen, you saw eight people, but not the people you witness disappear. These eight people were in uniforms: Batman, Robin, Red Robin, Nightwing, Red Hood, Batgirl, and Spoiler. But then you saw him, Alfred Pennyworth and you put it all together.

The expense are withdrawn by Bruce Wayne to make gadgets for Batman.

And Bruce Wayne is Batman.

Your camera clattered to the ground.

*Clunk*

Everyone’s heads whipped around to the sound and found a camera at the base of the stairs to the Batcave. Cass ran over and ran up a few stairs before she returned, grabbing you by the arm. They watched as you struggled to escape her grasp, doing so a couple times, but Cass would fix her grip and pull harder. When she reached the group, you stopped struggling and looked Bruce right in the eyes.

Bruce used his Batman voice, “Who are you?”

You stood taller, “Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was hired to investigate Bruce Wayne. Or I guess I should say Batman?”

Bruce’s mouth turned down into an even deeper frown. In the blink of an eye, his hand was around your throat. You didn’t gasp, actually the look in your eye intensified. “Who hired you!” He shook you a little. “Who?”

You smirk at him, which surprised Bruce causing him to loosen his grip. You slipped away from him, but not before the rest of the vigilantes surrounded you. “Just some accountant. No one important or dangerous, I promise.”

“Why?” Dick spoke up, “Why did he want Bruce investigated?”

You turned to face him, “He noticed a discrepancy in the numbers, wanted to figure out what was going on. Flashed me some Benjamins, so I took the gig.” You looked at the ceiling in thought, “$150,893.43, $471,990.21, $1,004,561.08 to name a few amounts that disappeared.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “H-how did you know those numbers?”

You shrugged, “Saw ‘em, memorized ‘em. Took about five minutes after I found the spreadsheet.”

Dick looked at Bruce in surprise, noticing the Bruce looked just as shocked himself. Tim and Bruce locked eyes, the same question going through both of their heads.

Tim was the one to ask it aloud, “How did you get to that spreadsheet?”

You shrugged again, “I got a job in the mail room. Whenever I got a chance, I got onto the accountant’s computer and wiggled through some firewalls. It wasn’t too hard, part of why I became a P.I.”

If Tim didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed the look on Bruce’s face was one of admiration. Actually, Tim himself felt a certain admiration for Y/N. Not many people had your abilities. Actually, no normal people should have your abilities.

Bruce finally spoke up again, “So what are you going to do now that you know about all this?”

“What do you think I should do?”

Steph spoke up, “What do you mean by that?”

“You could tell the world who we are, what we do. You have the proof right? Why not? What could stop you?” Bruce didn’t sound worried, but he wasn’t sure what you would do.

You sighed, “No, I won’t tell. Listen, my work...it ruins lives. I’ve seen it happen, and it’s not something I want to repeat. I’ve also seen what you guys do,” you shifted from one foot to the other, “You guys do good, I’ve seen that. I can’t interfere with your work. No, I won’t tell anyone.”

Everyone studied Y/N carefully. Damian was sure you were lying, but he couldn’t detect deception. Dick was slightly amazed at your response, and Tim was in awe as well. Steph and Cass began whispering their doubts to one another. Jason couldn’t help but scoff, he could believe you wouldn’t tell anyone, but not without a price.

“You wouldn’t do this without a price,” Jason got up in your face, “What do you want?”

Y/N didn’t shrink back. You actually got closer. “I don’t want shit.” Your eyes didn’t waver.

Bruce approach the two of them, he grabbed Y/N and took you aside. “I could use a brain like yours.” He watched your eyebrows shoot up. “You’re smart Y/N, there’s no denying it, and I can always use fresh eyes.”

“I would be honored, but...I mean...I’m not all that special. I mean... I can’t see what you see. When I think of myself, all I can see is an asshole that abuses people’s weaknesses and hate for a quick buck.” Y/N’s head fell for the first time in that cave. “I almost got her killed,” your voice no more than a whisper.

Bruce grabbed your shoulders, “What are you talking about?”

You raised your eyes to meet his. “This guy hired me, one of my first gigs, wanted me to figure out where his girlfriend was going. Easy, yeah?” Your shoulder tensed under Bruce’s hands. “She was going to a reproductive care clinic. I didn’t bother looking into why, and I told him. He got furious, right there in my office,” your eyes began to well up with tears, “He screamed ‘That bitch’s body is mine, she’s going to regret ever thinking otherwise.’”

Bruce watched as you took a deep breath. The tears spilled over your cheeks. “But you stopped him,” he asked softly.

You nodded, “I found her, before he could, told her what happened. I will never forget the fear I saw in her eyes, and that feeling of powerlessness because I couldn’t change what I had done.”

“You fixed it though,” Bruce noted, “You did good in the end. That’s why I think you’d be a good fit around here. Remorse, it can be used for good, motivation to do better in the future.” Bruce then did something everyone else in the cave thought was unthinkable, he hugged Y/N. Bruce felt as your arms tightened around his waist, and felt you shaking as you leaned into him.

Bruce gently pulled you away from him. “Y/N, I don’t know know how you feel, but I can tell you I did things I’m not proud of when I started out, just like you. The thing is...are you looking for a second chance?”

You took a moment to process what he said. Bruce watched as your tears disappeared, and a determined look settled onto your face. “I am.”

“So, what did you find?” Cole Roman paced around your office after waiting all morning for you to return.

“Sorry to disappoint Roman, but Bruce Wayne is not particularly interesting. The money went to a charity and charity auction item which, subsequently, was a fraud and the money disappeared.” You showed him some staged pictures you and the Wayne family had set up as added proof. “Nothing exciting going on in Wayne Manor.” Then you got out his bag of money, handing it back. “Full refund.”

Cole Roman grabbed the bag hesitantly, looked through it and nodded. “Fine. I guess it’s just weird to have a normal rich guy in Gotham.”

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah. Normal people in Gotham is rare.”

You bid Cole goodbye, and watched him leave the office. When he was out the door, you began packing it all up: external drives, cameras, lenses, notebooks filled with dirt on all kinds of people. Before you packed up your computer, you erased your business and yourself from the internet. 

You found yourself in Wayne Manor the second time that day, now a welcomed guest. Bruce had set you up in one of the many rooms in the manor. When you walked in, you were in awe. The room was three times bigger than your office and looked like it was fit for a king. You began to set up all of your stuff when a knock came from the door. You turned to find Jason Todd, the only one you hadn’t know from before.

“Settling okay?”

“Yeah, just setting up my computer.”

Jason looked at your computer confused. “I’m sorry, what century is that computer monitor even from?”

You snorted, “I know, its a box. It’s all I could afford and I hadn’t been to keen to lose my office space or, you know, food by spending my income on a new monitor.”

“Bruce will have no problem getting you something better, he’ll want you working at a hundred.”

You nodded and continued setting up. Jason crossed the room and started helping you unpack. “Thanks.”

“No problem...” He trailed off. Then he turned to face you. “Y/N, why are you doing this?”

“What, unpacking?”

He chuckled, “No. I mean joining the life. It’s not easy and people get hurt.”

You looked Jason in the eyes. “I’ve already seen people get hurt. I know unease. I’ve been looking for a second chance and Bruce gave it to me.”

“Okay...alright. I get that.” Jason laughed to himself, “It’s probably better than the second chance I got.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I died, I was twelve. Bruce’s mortal enemy resurrected me. It was one of the worst times of my life.”

You looked at Jason like he was joking, but nothing changed in his eyes. Your eyes widened, “You serious?”

Jason shrugged, “Yeah.” 

“Oh.”

“Well,” Jason set down a camera and walked to your door, but before he left he turned to look at you, “Welcome to the family.”

You watched as he walked away from your new room, processing his story.

“The hell have I gotten myself into...”

[imaginethatalena]

#33: Batfam & Peter Parker x Reader

Thanks @crazyfreckledginger and anon for requesting! ❤  This is actually a Part 2 of an imagine that I wrote a little bit ago, so go check out Part 1 first :)

Request: Hi! First of all thank you so much for the fic! It was so good jfbzidbsis ahhh no words!! Anyway could you do a part 2, in your own tile of course!! 😌👌👌  Love ya!!! 😍😍😍😍😘😘😘😘😘

Request: Your crossover was amazing with the batboys and Peter Parker 😍  I was wondering if I can request one where tony and Bruce have them all go on a mission and the two eldest batboys won’t stop flirting with the reader and the reader flirting back and Peter acting like a cute overprotective best friend/ brother and Damian being jealous he isn’t old enough for the reader 😂😅 ?

“Whose idea was it to send us all on a mission together again?” Peter asked you. The two of you were perched on a Gotham rooftop, waiting for the Batfamily to join you.

“Bruce’s,” you said. “Apparently his sons liked us enough that they wanted us to join them on patrol.”

“I think they wanted to spend more time with you, Y/N,” he said. “They weren’t interested in Spider-Man. They were interested in Violet Witch, and you were interested in them, too.”

“You jealous?” you asked with a teasing smirk.

“Of course not. You’re like a sister to me,” he said, sounding annoyed. “I’m just worried.”

“Don’t be,” you said, allowing tendrils of light to weave through your fingers. Unlike your sister’s scarlet, your powers manifested as a violet glow, earning you the name Violet Witch.

You and Peter heard footsteps approaching from behind you the same time you heard someone call out a greeting.

“Hey, guys.” Dick offered you and Peter a friendly grin, dressed in full Nightwing regalia. Jason had his leather jacket and red helmet, Tim had his red ensemble with wings, and Damian had his Robin suit on. It was almost surreal, seeing the group of heroes you had always dreamed of meeting standing in front of you.

“Are you guys ready?” Peter asked. You could tell he was impatient for this to be over.

“I’m ready to see Violet Witch’s powers up close, if that’s what you mean,” Jason said. You could hear the smirk in his voice, and you turned your face to hide your blush while Peter sighed.

“I think he meant for the mission, guys,” Tim said, trying to salvage the awkward situation.

“You two are hopeless,” Damian snapped, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “Excuse my brothers. Their minds have been in the gutter since they met you. Well, except for Jason. His mind has always been there.”

“You’re just pissed that you’re too young for her, Damian,” Jason said. You and Peter barely had time to blink before Tim was struggling to hold back the youngest Boy Wonder from attacking his brother.

“These are the boys who help Batman protect Gotham?” Peter whispered to you.

“I think it’s cute,” you said with a smile. They were all clearly very close, even if they couldn’t always get along. Their relationship reminded you a lot of how you, Wanda, and Pietro used to interact.

Tim and Dick were able to calm Damian down, and the mission began. The boys had gotten a radio call about a bank robbery and hostage situation in progress, and the six of you rushed to stop it in its tracks.

When you got to the bank, you and Peter stepped back to let the Batboys do their thing for a bit. Nightwing and Red Hood took down the first wave of thugs that rushed at them outside the bank, then Tim and Damian slipped into the bank to help the hostages inside. It was taking longer for them to stop the bank heist than you and Peter thought, and you could sense his grin beneath his mask when he turned his head to you.

“Show them what you got, Y/N,” he said.

You gave him a smile and raised your hands. Violet light started drifting from your fingers, and in a matter of seconds, you had disarmed every single one of the thugs inside and and outside the bank. Peter was quick to dart around with shots of webbing to restrain each of the bank robbers. The Batboys watched you and Peter work with wide eyes, deescalating the situation quicker than they had thought possible. When you were finished, you shot Dick and Jason a smug smile.

“She’s amazing,” Dick said, completely awestruck.

“You’re telling me,” Jason said, equally bewitched by your power.

You and Peter walked over to them, amused with the boys’ reactions.

“Is there anything else you’d like to see?” you asked them. “There’s a lot more where that came from.” You felt Peter side-eyeing you at that comment, but you didn’t care.

“Are you just going to gawk at her all night?” Damian snapped. “We have more calls coming in from the GCPD that we need to take care of, remember?”

Dick and Jason snapped out of it, and you all readied yourself for the next missions.

You all headed back to Wayne manor in the light of the rising sun. Peter was more than ready to return home, but you wanted to stay a moment longer.

“I had a great night,” you said to Dick and Jason when you got back to the Batcave. Peter was busy talking to Tim, so you finally had an opportunity to talk to them without him getting all protective.

“You’re always welcome to come on patrol with us, Y/N,” Dick told you.

“Yeah, don’t be a stranger,” Jason agreed. “We’d like to see more of you, if that’s okay with your boyfriend over there.”

“Believe me, I’ll be coming back,” you said with a smile. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Dick and Jason’s eyebrows shot up and they exchanged a look of relief.

“So, that means you’re single?” Jason asked. You laughed at his and Dick’s hopeful expressions.

“You ready, Y/N?” Peter asked as he walked over to you. “Happy is almost here.”

“Before you go, can you do me a favor, Y/N?” Dick asked before you could answer Peter.

“Sure. What is it?”

“Could you go talk to Damian a bit before you go?” he said, gesturing to his little brother, who sat at the Batcomputer with a sullen expression. “He didn’t really get the chance to all night, and he was really excited to go on patrol with you.”

“Of course I will,” you said, and headed over to Damian.

“You did great tonight, Damian,” you said, coming to stand next to him.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said stiffly, focusing his gaze on the computer screen. You smiled, guessing that he was shy.

“I hope I’ll get to go on patrol with you again,” you said. “I really enjoyed spending time with you.”

Damian looked to you, and a shadow of a smile crossed his face.

“I did too,” he said.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek and ruffled his hair. “I’ll see you soon, kid.”

You headed back over to Peter, and you saw that Dick, Jason, and Tim were all staring in shock.

“He let you ruffle his hair,” Tim said.

“And you still have your hand,” Jason added.

“How . . . ?” Dick didn’t have any words.

“Happy’s here, Y/N,” Peter told you, impatiently waiting to go.

“Bye, guys,” you said with a smile, and Peter and you left stunned boys in the Batcave. You were sad to leave, but you knew there would be many more patrol nights to come, and you would never get tired of spending time with the Batfamily.

[my-one-love-is-music]

It Takes Two Ch. 16

Also on AO3!

“Try not to scare the people in the van anymore than you have,” Tim sighed as Jason lifted his leg from the man in front of him.

Jason knelt down and gripped the man by the color, making him wince and hiss in pain as it jostled his now broken leg. “I think it’s about time you start talking,” he said, voice low. “Unless you’d rather have more bones broken or a bullet in your head. So, don’t make me ask again, what are you doing driving around in the middle of the night picking up people off the street?”

His eyes roved from side to side, almost as though he was searching for some kind of escape. Jason tightened his grip on his collar.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Okay, okay,” he sighed. “We were told to find people who wouldn’t be missed and wouldn’t put up a fight.”

“Why?”

He opened his mouth to reply when his head was forced to the side from the force of a bullet. Another one glanced off the pavement and Tim and Jason slipped around the side of the van, using it to shield themselves from the sniper that was shooting from across the street.

“Where the fuck did a sniper come from?” Jason hissed.

“Looks like whoever these guys are working for are being watched by their employers.” More bullets rattled off the side of the van. “And they don’t take too kindly to having their secrets spilled to vigilantes.”

“Get the other driver into he back of the van. I’m going to get in the front and get us the fuck out of here. We can’t risk the kids in the back getting shot.”

Tim nodded. “I’ll get both bodies if I can.”

“Fuck the second body.”

“It could give us information. There could be something on it because I’m assuming you haven’t searched the pockets yet.”

“Fuck, fine,” Jason sighed. “You get one body and I’ll get the other.”

They both darted out from behind the van, each grabbing hold of one of the bodies. Jason threw the dead body into the back to the muffled screams of the tied up teens. Tim shoved the body he was carrying inside as bullets rained down over his head. He clumsily climbed inside as Jason hurried around the side for the drivers’ seat. Tim pulled the back doors of the van shut as the engine revved and jolted forward.

“What’s going on?” the two in the back asked.

“We were getting attacked and needed to move,” Tim said, crawling over them to the wall that separated him from Jason.

“Is he dead?” the girl asked softly.

Tim sighed. “That’s not important right now.” He pulled the slat open and was able to see part of the front seat and windshield.

“Where are you headed?”

“As far from here as I can get,” Jason grit out, hands tight on the wheel.

“Any sign we’re being followed?”

“No, but keep watch out of the back of the van. I can’t watch all sides at once and drive at the same time.”

Tim stepped back over the bodies and peered out the rear window. He caught sight of a figure on one of the rooftops and he squinted, trying to get a better look, but the figure who he thought might be the sniper that had shot after them, morphed into the figure of Batman as he jumped from one building to the next.

“No sign of the sniper, but we’ve got an annoying tail on us,” Tim called.

Jason groaned as he jerked the steering wheel to the side, swerving down a side street and sending the people in the back sliding across the floor.

“Please tell me it’s not B,” he said.

“If I did I’d be lying.”

“Fuck,” he cursed.

Batman grappled from the buildings across the street so he could continue following them across the rooftops.

“You might want to find somewhere secluded to pull over. I don’t think he’s going to leave us alone so easily so we might as well get this over with.”

“Fine, hold on,” he sighed and swerved again, turning down an alleyway and reaching a small lot between the buildings. Jason threw the car into park and walked around the side of the van, pulling the rear doors open. Tim hopped down as Batman landed in the alley, keeping to the darkest of shadows even though there was no light around them.

“What do the two of you think you’re doing?” he asked, walking forward as the cape ruffled around his feet.

“Gathering intelligence,” Jason said. “Which would’ve gone fine if you hadn’t interrupted.”

Tim reached out and put a hand on Jason’s arm. He could feel the spark of anger flash through his veins and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t annoyed himself.

“There are two kidnapped teenagers in the back of the van.”

Bruce sighed. “I thought I told you to keep off patrol?” he asked.

“Hood’s healed and I’m fine. We’re working together so we can watch each other’s backs,” Tim explained. “We need to figure out how to fix this and you’ve done nothing so far so we decided to take matters into our own hands. And, more importantly, these kids would be gone right now if we hadn’t been here.”

Jason’s hand came to rest on his lower back and Tim leaned into the touch.

“Get the kids out of the back of the van,” he sighed. “And whoever was kidnapping them.”

Tim climbed back in the van and used one of his birdarangs to cut through the tape that was wrapped around their wrists and feet. He helped them from the van and Bruce immediately started talking to them and reassured them.

“I’ve sent in a call to the police. They’re on their way and they’re going to want to talk to you. We’ll get you home as soon as we can.”

The boy nodded and the girl wrapped her arms around herself, looking around the alley.

Jason pulled the other two bodies from the back of the van, the dead body thumped to the ground making the girl jump and the other man struggled, eyes wide as he caught sight of Batman now that he’d come back to consciousness.

Jason grabbed the hair on the top of the head of the man who was struggling and wrenched his head back at an awkward angle. Tim could see him swallow nervously and felt a spark of satisfaction.

“Now you listen to me,” Jason hissed. “You are going to tell me who hired you and why. What were you doing going around in the middle of the night to pick up people off the street?”

“I-I-I can’t tell you,” he stuttered.

“You can and you will,” Jason said, shaking him. “Who do you work for? A mob boss? A scientist? The government?”

The man stilled in Jason’s hold.

“Which is it?” he asked, shaking him.

“A-a scientist mainly. He tells us how many people he needs and what kind of people he needs, but we’ve also seen some government officials or important looking people around. We don’t interact directly with them so I don’t know who they are, but there’s someone important backing this guy.”

Tim stilled, feeling the blood in his veins turn ice cold like it had when he’d first been going through the medical files from the hospital. Anger mixed with his own anxiety and Tim watched as the man shifted uncomfortably as Jason’s hand tightened in his hair.

“Where do you take these people?” Tim asked.

The man glanced over in his direction.

“Answer the question,” Jason snarled and Tim heard the girl squeak behind them.

“I-I dunno!”

“You don’t know?!”

He winced. “What, what I mean is, I don’t know where they go in the end. I’m given a location to pass off the people and they’re taken to the holding facility or lab or whatever it is they’ve set up. I drop off the bodies and I get paid, that’s all I can tell you.”

“Where were you supposed to meet tonight?” Jason growled.

“The-the-the west end of the narrows. There’s a courtyard between a group of apartment buildings that’s large enough for two vans to get into. It’s the only one in the area and if you’re looking down from the roofs of the buildings you can’t miss it.”

“You better not be wrong,” Jason said, releasing his grip on his head. He slumped forward and sucked in a shaky breath.

Jason fired his grapple to the roof, flying up without looking back.

“Hood!” Tim called after him but he disappeared over the rooftop. “Shit,” he cursed.

“Red Robin,” Bruce said, voice low.

“I can’t leave him alone in case he gets hurt,” Tim explained quickly before firing his grapple.

“Red Robin!” Bruce called after him, but he ignored it in favor of tracking Jason’s progress across the rooftops.

He didn’t manage to catch up and Jason didn’t seem to be slowing until they got to the opposite side of the Narrows. He skidded to a stop at the edge of a rooftop and Tim landed next to him, bracing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“You could’ve waited for me you know,” he said between gasps.

“I didn’t want to risk them possibly getting away if they were already here. We don’t know what their schedule is for the pick-up,” Jason said. He fired his grapple again and jumped from the side of the building, swinging down to the alley.

Tim sighed and followed after him, gravel skidding off his boots. He landed heavily and looked around the buildings around them.

“Do you really think they’re going to show up?” he asked.

The sound of wheels skidding caught their attention and the bright lights from a van swerved around the corner. It raced forward, covering the small distance quickly as it aimed for Jason and Tim where they stood in the middle of the courtyard. An arm wrapped around Tim’s waist and Jason fired his grapple, pulling them both out of the way of the speeding van as its wheels screeched and it turned to face them, barely breaking before it was chasing after them again.

“Fuck,” Jason hissed and fired his grapple to the roof, pulling them from the ground as the van barreled through the space they’d been standing in a second ago.

A muffled clanging noise sounded and their progress upwards halted before they started falling towards the ground. Tim barely managed to catch sight of the severed cable of Jason’s grapple gun. He pulled his own free from his belt and fumbled with it, trying to ignore the pavement that was racing towards them. He fired off a shot, but the cable didn’t retracted quickly enough and it only managed to slow their descent as they swung down towards the ground.

Jason’s grip around his waist broke at the impact and they both rolled. Tim ignored the stinging across his skin, from both his and Jason’s impact, as gravel dug into him. He struggled to get his arms underneath him and pushed himself up onto his knees.

The lights from the van trained on both of them and the engine revved. A hand wrapped around his arm and Jason pulled him to his feet, causing them both to back up a couple steps.

“You got your grapple?” Jason asked.

Tim retracted the line and readied it at his side. “Yup.”

“Sniper severed my line,” he said.

“So we gonna run for it?” Tim asked.

“It’s not every day we get to try and outrun a van.”

“Split and head for the opening and then when we get cover use the grapple?”

“Yup,” Jason said.

The engine revved again and they both braced themselves. They didn’t even count off before they sprinted in opposite directions like they could read each other’s minds and knew the moves they were going to make. The van’s wheels screeched as it slammed forward and fought to turn to chase down one of them. A bullet glanced off the pavement next to Tim’s foot and he swallowed, pushing himself harder towards the mouth of the alley.

He saw Jason in his periphery and he reached out for him as they came back together, ducking out of sight in the narrow alley from the shooter. Van wheels screeched behind them.

“Hold on,” Tim said as he readied his grapple shot. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and he shot the grapple. The ground feel away from under their feet with a violent tug as they whisked through the air to the opposite row of buildings as the van burst out of the alley.

Tim hissed when they landed on the opposite rooftop. Jason’s feet landed first and the hold on his waist forced him to the roof harshly, gravel digging into his cheek and chin. He grit his teeth when the brunt of Jason’s weight landed on his back and knocked the air out of his lungs.

“You okay?” Jason asked, rolling off him. He grabbed his arm and helped push him to his knees.

Tim kept his breathing even through the lingering pain and gave a weak smile. “We should probably get out of here. I don’t know how long it’s going to take that sniper to track us again and who knows who’s in the van.”

“I’ll check and see if it’s all clear,” Jason said, moving to the ledge of the rooftop. He raised up on his knees and peered over the edge before ducking back down.

“I dunno about the sniper, but the van’s gone. Probably back to their hideout or base wherever that’s set up.”

“Shit,” Tim hissed, rubbing the lingering pieces of gravel from his chin. “We should get going.”

“And where are you going to run off to this time?”

Tim sighed, shoulders sagging before he turned to face Bruce. He had his arms crossed and was standing above them, large frown pulling at his lips.

“Care to explain why you’re out patrolling when I specifically said not to?” he asked, voice firm and unforgiving.

“Because you’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing,” Jason shot back.

Tim sighed.

“We’re taking care of it,” Bruce said.

“Look,” Tim said. “Like I said before, Jason’s healed and we’re both fine. Let us patrol together. We can watch each other’s back and make sure we stay safe. We need to make some sort of progress on this case. Those kids we found are proof that things haven’t stopped with us and something bigger is going on.”

Bruce sighed and Tim knew he would’ve pinched the bridge of his nose if he was able. “Did you even take the time to look over the van that you’d stopped? Did you take the time to learn anything about the kind of people we’re dealing with?”

“We were kind of busy avoiding the shots a sniper was firing at us,” Jason grumbled.

“I know and didn’t you find it curious that there was a sniper at the ready when this van was just going around kidnapping people?”

“Yes!” Tim said, throwing up his hand. “And what is your explanation for that?”

Bruce was silent.

“Look, we can help and we can fight. As long as Jason and I stay together while we patrol, we can watch each other’s backs and stay safe to make sure neither of us become incapacitated,” Tim continued. “If you’re that worried, we can have an alert made that can go out if something really bad happens to us.”

“Fine. I will allow it on that condition. For now, head back to the Cave and we will develop the alert immediately, but no more patrolling for tonight.”

Tim sighed, feeling like he’d managed to have one victory after weeks of being at the mercy of everything.

“Fine,” Tim agreed.

“Fine,” Jason said.

Tim turned towards the opposite side of the building and Jason followed.

“Oh, wait,” Tim said and turned. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra grapple we could borrow do you? Jason’s cable got broken from the sniper.”

“You got yourself into this mess, you can get yourself out of it. You insisted on being able to patrol so this is the kind of thing you’re going to have to figure out in the field. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Tim rolled his eyes behind his domino and turned on his heel. He sprinted to the edge of the building and jumped across the alley, Jason following behind him.

“I guess we’re going to be pretty close as we grapple back across Gotham,” Jason said lightly.

Tim couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his lips. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

They stopped at the first pass from one street to the other. Tim handed his grapple to Jason and jumped on his back, wrapping his arms and legs around Jason’s torso.

“Ready?” Jason asked as Tim tightened his hold.

“Yup, let’s go.”

Jason fired the grapple and made sure it caught before he jumped from the edge of the building. The speed of the fall wasn’t what Tim was used to, but the line pulled taught above their heads and let them swing from one side of the street to the other.

Jason landed heavily on the rooftop with a grunt and Tim felt a jolt of pain go through him since he’d been unable to roll to avoid the impact with Tim on his back. Tim released his grip and fell from Jason’s back.

“We’re going to need to figure out how to do that better,” Tim groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. “Maybe I should hang in front of you so you can roll onto your back.”

“You really want to try that?” Jason asked, retracting the grapple line. “I’m not sure how that could be much better.”

“I think it’s the only chance we have of making it work without you risking tearing up your knees every time you have to make a landing,” Tim said.

Jason sighed and rolled his shoulders. “Okay, we can give it a shot.”

They sprinted across several other rooftops before they came to a street crossing where they had to grapple again. Tim koala-hugged Jason from the front as he fired the grapple. Jason wrapped an arm around Tim’s back and gave him a squeeze before letting go to handle the line. He jumped from the edge of the rooftop and the line pulled as they swung over the street and up to the next roof.

Jason pushed off the roof and rolled on his side and back before using his hand to stop his momentum. Tim winced at the pressure against his arms and legs from the roll, but it was less painful than the first landing Jason had done.

“You good?” Jason asked, wrapping his arm around Tim’s back.

“Yeah,” Tim said, carefully extracting his limbs. “Let’s keep going.”

If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

[writing-yj]

Robin/Tim Drake x Reader: Work for It

@rainbowstrucklizard :“If you want a kiss, you’re going to have work for it” with Tim Drake ? Thanks! So proud of you for reaching 300 followers!! You deserve it. Please take care of yourself!!

31: “If you want a kiss, you’re going to have to work for it.”

Word Count: 1093

Warnings: None!

A/n: I was so psyched to write this one! I did my bestest, I hope you like it! It’s pretty OOC, but yeah! Still trying to get a feel for Tim’s character!

Where as someone would use the bar for pull-ups, you were hanging upside down whilst you watched your boyfriend, Tim Drake a.k.a. Robin, train in the Bat Cave. You already did your fair share of sparring that day; previous training really paid off. You were even complimented on your progress back at HQ. Being without superpowers usually gave your powered teammates the upper hand, but with your efforts and your boyfriend’s help, you were evenly matched with a good number of your friends.

“I thought only bats hung upside down,” Tim called out to you from the training mat. “We already have one of those!”

You openly giggled as you swung back and forth a little. “I’m working on my leg muscles and admiring from afar, leave me be!” Hanging from a bar by your legs, without falling, is a valid and effective workout. “Can’t skip leg day!”

He rolled his eyes. “Because you’re always so enthusiastic about leg day…”

“Legs are important, Tim. I remember you agreeing, and you’ve never exactly complained, have you?” You outright grinned.

Tim’s blush was almost as red as his costume. He didn’t have to tell you that he, ahem, appreciated your legs in and out of your heroine costume. “Christ, (Y/n), be quiet! Don’t-”

“Tim, we are the only ones in here. Chill.” You giggled and you used your legs to pull you up into a sitting position. You flipped around and looked down at him. “But you might want to quiet down, wouldn’t want Bruce to know that you, a teenage boy, are all alone down here with another girl. Oh man, those hormones-”

He bounded over to you and yanked you down, and you yelped. Tim put a hand over your mouth and hissed, “Stop it! All we’re going to do down here is train, not- Ew!” Tim exclaimed in disgust and rapidly pulled his hand away when you licked it.

You snorted at his reaction and had to hold in your loud laughter. “Who would have thought that Robin would be so easily disgusted? You surprise me every day, Drake.” 

Tim mocked you in a nasally voice, “’You surprise me every day, Drake’ You’d act the same way, don’t try to deny it.”

Tim turned away from you and walked away, and it seemed like he was pouting. No, he was definitely pouting. “If I train with you, will you stop pouting?” You crossed your arms and giggled.

He turned around and stared at you for a few seconds, and then stood firmly on the training mat. “Only if you’re prepared to lose.” When it came to training, you brought out a more competitive side in him that you enjoyed. It gave him more motivation on missions and anywhere else, for that matter.

You bounced on over to the mat and instantly got into your signature fighting stance. “You wish, babe.” You had a goofy smile on your face, which he returned upon seeing it. It disappeared when you suddenly lunged at him, skillfully avoiding his startled swing of his bo staff.

“Hey! I wasn’t ready!” Tim almost whined as he avoided another one of your fast attacks.

“I thought as Batman’s protégé, you would know that your enemies-” you kicked him in the stomach. “Don’t ask-” you deflected his bo staff with your forearm. “If you’re ready!” You knocked him off his feet effortlessly and straddled him. You didn’t even give him a chance to fight back, but you did have the element of surprise. “You’re not going to do so hot in the field if you think you’ll always get a fair warning.” It came out as a joke, but you were partly serious. Sometimes, you really worried about him on missions.

Speaking of no warnings, he flipped you onto your back, and now he was the one straddling you. “I know that already, I just wasn’t expecting you to move so fast.”

“Are you calling me slow, Robin?” You raised an eyebrow.

Tim almost flew into full panic mode before he realized you were joking. The last thing he wanted to do was insult his girlfriend. “Not at all, I was-”

“You have the perfect opportunity to kiss me right now, do you mind taking it?” You smirked up at him. He seemed to have forgotten the position you were in.

Tim simply smiled and leaned down to kiss you, and you put a hand behind his neck as he got closer. But just as his lips brushed against yours, he said, “If you want a kiss, you’re going to have to work for it.” With that, he abruptly sat up and gracefully flipped away from you.

You were gaping for several moments before flipping into a standing position. “If working for a kiss means kicking your ass, you better start putting on your chapstick.” You were getting a kiss, one way or another.

What started as a sparring session turned into a fiery battle between lovers. While Tim had his bo staff, you had your speed and your odd knack of pick pocketing, so you kept getting ahold of his batarangs and such. It was funny to see him try to snatch them back, which he succeeded half the time, but you had many chances to win when he did so. He always enjoyed training with you; it gave him a challenge (you were one hell of a fighter) and gave him comfort knowing that you could hold your own in battle.

Tim nearly choked on his spit when you snatched a smoke pellet and threw it on the ground. You disappeared into it, and he couldn’t see you at all, even though he used them often. “I would say that isn’t fair, but you’d tell me that villains don’t play fair.”

When the smoke dissipated, he didn’t see you in front of him. That meant- “That’s correct.” You smirked. Before he could move, you forcefully turned him around and kissed him with all you had. Every kiss you two shared never lost its spark. It never got dull or flat or boring; kissing him gave you renewed vigor and reminded him that he was loved by you, and that’s all he wanted.

You realized you lost track of time when Bruce, in his Batman costume, entered the Batcave and was ready to leave. He groaned in exasperation when he saw you with your hands in his dark hair, and him with his arms around your waist. “What did I tell you about bringing her here!?”

[satire-please]

My Teeth Are Like Swords

Summary: Because I like the irony of Tim Drake being a fire-breathing Drake too much...

Tim waits under the huge clock at City Hall for midnight. He doesn’t know why all city halls like to sport a giant clock like it’s all the rage, but whatever. It seems like the best place for a bit of melodrama. (Besides, he’s taken tips from the best drama queen cough starts with a ‘B’ and rhymes with juice cough). The hand strikes the top and the clock booms, each gong vibrating his body underneath the clock face and finally—finally—Tim turns eighteen.

And Tim Drake Wayne gets what he’s been waiting for.

Sparks crackle under his tongue as his pupils narrow for a moment to take in the stars through the miles of smog. His skin ripples impatiently as his mother’s magic bubbles up and wakes in his bones at last. Finally, he thinks rubbing his chest at the fire that freaking hurts thank you very much right under his sternum. That’s gonna take awhile to get used to. Finally, he smiles when he looks down his shirt to see the muted glow flickering in time with his heartbeat. Ready to burn when necessary.

It's beyond totally rad.

Awaking his inner core is like being Robin for the first time again. Where everything is brand new: the sights, the smells, even the air tastes fresh with chemicals Tim can only begin to decipher coating his roof of his mouth. His heart beats hard at how exciting and dangerous it all is, just enough to make normal people run away screaming.

But then again when has he ever been normal?

Not since Mother set him on her knee to tell him what he is, what she is. Tim absentmindedly pulls off a gauntlet to claw the side of the building, trying to soothe his itching and aching nails as flashes of her pass through his mind.

Like the night when Mother thawed enough to remember her duties to her clutch egg. The eight-year-old boy fitting tight in her lap as she tends to his hands.

“We’re lucky your claws are soft enough for obsidian,” she muses as she efficiently moves from digit to digit, the volcanic glass snipping quickly. “When you’re older you'll have to grind them down with something more...durable, metal for instance, over and over to sharpen them to your liking.”

(Like he’s doing now. Augh. He’ll have to find a parking garage or something. Somewhere loud enough to cover the screeching nails on chalkboard sound, somewhere where the grooves he’s making will go unnoticed.)

The boy bounces once or twice and then bites his lip. “Mother?”

“Yes, my pet?”

“Did you marry Dad because his name was Drake?” Tim asks, looking up. There’s a scale somewhere at the base of her jaw, he just knows it.

“No.” But her tone mildly suggests otherwise. At Tim’s sceptical face she adds, “It might have made me more susceptible to his advances, however.”

“Oh my gosh, you so did.” His mom kept his dad over a pun.

Janet hums, bemused at her clutch child. What a silly thing. When his nails are done, she grooms his hair, double-checking for signs to hide. A charm or two can go a long way. Besides, she and Jack leave in the morning and it will not do for one of hers to be unkempt. Sometimes she wonders if the only reason she convinces Jack to return is for this, to sate the itch, the biting lips, the shaking of her fingers that will only stop if she checks and accounts for the hoard. Not that her human mate knows that everything in the quiet mansion is a part of her treasure.

“Are you ever going to tell Dad?”

“Tell him what?” She goes still. Her child is growing clever too fast. Not as easily placated as before.

Tim carefully moves, tracing the lone black piece that glimmers in the hollow under her ear.

She cocked her head at him, the crack her neck makes is unnatural. Her eyes flare a tiny bit bringing the purple out of them, the same purple that hides in Tim’s eyes. “No. Humans always panic.”

Tim cringes. “Always?”

“Always. And their weapons, their toys, my pet? Have gotten much, much better.” At his crestfallen face, she swoops down to press a kiss to his forehead. It burns. He knows there will be a light mark tomorrow, but he’ll still treasure it and outline where it used to be when it’s long gone. “Besides I’ve already decided to spend the rest of my days in this form with your father. Why tell him about something he’ll never see?”

The notion is irritating and Janet refuses to waste time considering it. Humans are so hard to convince. Hard to convince that the idea of your being is real and then hard to convince that you mean them no harm. Janet huffs. A dragon’s patience is not limitless.

“Well, don’t you need to tell him about me?” He peers at her through his bangs.

Janet purses her lips. “Perhaps. We do not know how your father’s blood will mix with mine. We’ll see if it’s necessary when you come of age...but I doubt when your lessons are done that you’d be so foolish to slip and reveal yourself.” A hint to fang escapes her at the thought.

Tim gulped loudly.

“Oh, stop that. Your emotions are too clear, Timothy. Remember: cold face, cold voice. Let no one know your belly’s hot.”

Tim schools his face and tries his last question. “Do you really have to go?”

“Oh, my son, one day you will understand the call to find, to take, and hoard for yourself. But never collect people, Timothy.” Her sharp nails rake carefully over his scalp. The next words are softer, almost gentle for the ruthless woman. “Humans are too hard to keep, they don’t stay where you leave them...your heart weeps when they never stay.”

(Tim should have listened. There’s an old ache beyond the fire in his veins. Steph, Kon, Bart, Bruce...Dick. Yeah. He was an idiot. Then again...he shouldn’t have thought they were his in the first place.)

She turns him and settles the young child into bed. Pats the covers and turns off the lights. “If nothing else comforts you, remember this...you and your father are the only people in my hoard.” The glow of her eyes lulls him to sleep.

And the phrase did comfort him. No matter how rare it was for her to be warm, no matter how long their ‘trips’ were, no matter how utterly alone he felt among the priceless antiques and artifacts that multiplied over the years. He had a place to belong.

He was hers.

She just wasn't...his.

In the present, he stands and shakes himself loose from the wall. The others will be coming for him soon. Or at least Dick will. Something about birthday wishes and all that. You never know what is really going to hit the vigilante as super important, though it’s funny to see him shake up the bunch of bats. Tim even thinks he saw Damian kicking wrapping paper under the bed. Dick really did a number on him.

“Drake!”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Tim smirks, and slips from the roof to meet the boy on another. (Gotta leave the evidence behind somehow, right?). He hears boots clip the side of the building with an angry huff.

Too bad Mother’s adages have their limits. The traditional favorite of ‘Eat him’ is just not going to cut it. No matter how tempting the solution is whenever Damian decides to be annoying, or vicious.

It’s regrettable sometimes.

Luckily, the boy has mellowed out from ‘let me stab you’ to ‘let me stab your insecurities’. It’s progress. Dick is so proud.

“Where have you been?” Damian snarls, getting up into Tim’s space. “Father and others have been wasting precious time looking for you everywhere. Even Grayson has cut back patrol for this ridiculous farce of a celebration.”

“Oh, did he? I didn’t get the memo.”

“Yes, you did,” the preteen hisses. “Grayson has sent text messages all day. If you say your phone has not been vibrating itself into oblivion, then you shall be the filthiest liar in my association.”

Aw, Tim feels so honored. “My phone is dead?”

Damian puffs up and Tim with his new sight can even see his face flush red in the dark. “Must you be absolutely impossible? How could you–” He freezes and sniffs the air primly. Then he turns to the man enraged. “Drake...have you been smoking?”

“Why would I be–yes.” Tim switches tracks so fast his own head spins a little. “Yes. I’ve been smoking.” Fuck, he didn’t think that effect would take place so soon. He swallows down the version of nitroglycerin lingering in his mouth awkwardly and breathes through his nose to drown his sparks. But hey, the excuse would work, huh? Even mother carried a box of cigarettes just in case.

“Alfred shall be most displeased.” Damian narrows his eyes in disapproval.

“Well, Alfred should know that I’ve turned eighteen. I’m now an official adult. Free to destroy my body in any way I choose like the Waynes before me. Be grateful that I’ve picked my vice in coffee and smoke instead of the horrible wiles of flesh...like Dick.”

The line earns him a wrinkled nose and glare. “You are completely despicable, Drake.”

“I am,” Tim continues. “But don’t you fear, you won’t catch me smoking. Ever. No secondhand smoke ruining your lungs for you.”

“How beyond gracious of you,” Damian snorts. Tim smiles. Damian pushes on his back towards the edge of the building. “Now come. Everyone is waiting for you and you will not waste my time a second more.

For that, Tim deliberately takes the long way home, just to hear Damian angrily spew curses behind him. It’s his birthday, let him have this.

He takes into account other changes in the meantime. His steps are a little quicker, his jumps higher, longer until he uses his grappling hook only as a means to not to arouse suspicion to the boy struggling to keep up behind him until Tim actually slows down to keep the distance between them short. He bets he’s stronger too, but any other tests will have to wait. He’s probably not as strong as a meta, like Kon or Clark...not like this of course, but it won’t be something to laugh at.

Like how well his skin can take a hit..or a bullet now.

Poor B. The Bats really pride themselves on being completely powerless. Using tools and toys to compete with the whole superhero community (and generally come out kicking all their asses). Tim was gonna have to work twice as hard to cover up his tracks to avoid any...realizations. It’ll take a detective to fool a detective or take a few more ‘Titan’ missions out of Gotham to keep things under wraps. Missions that are more working on the tight pinch growing between his shoulder blades that’s starting to get real annoying. After a few hours he’ll definitely have to find a place to shift soon. Shed skin and fly until light cracks over the dirty city.

Will he have the same coloring as Mother? Dark ebony scales that merge into the night? Is he the size of a horse? A house?

Tim can’t wait to find out.

“H-Hurry up, Drake!” Damian wheezes when he gets the lead for a second or two. You know, when Tim pauses enough to let him catch up.

“Coming.”

He can’t wait to see what kind of Drake he is. In his ear, he can almost hear an echo of his Mother’s voice.

‘Happy Birthday...my pet.’

Happy Birthday indeed.

[brokaw22]

Fic: Injury and Healing

ff.net

Story Synopsis: Tim would have been fine, if Damian hadn't shown up unannounced.

Day Five of TimDrakeWeek: Prompt: Injury / Healing

It’s days like today when Tim knows that he should just go back to bed and forget about saving the world. He’s got a tension headache from too much caffeine and not enough sleep. He knows for a fact that if he pulls one more all-nighter, it’s going to compromise his health. Still, the gang that he’s been tracking for weeks now is finally making a move, so he doesn’t have much of a choice but to follow them. Sure, he could probably pass this off to someone else, but they’ve all got their own cases, and Tim really doesn’t need to add fuel to the fire of Damian’s taunts.

So, here he is, down at the docks, soaked through from the heavy rainstorm that has been steadily drenching all of Gotham for hours, waiting for the idiots to make their move when there is suddenly movement from below. He glances down at the very familiar figure making his way through cargo containers, and nearly growls. It takes everything that Tim has in him not to find a lose brick and throw it at the back of Damian’s head. He has no idea what the brat is doing here, but he swears to Batman that if the demon brat messes this up for him there is going to be retribution.

Tim watches in silence as Damian makes his way closer and closer to where the gang is huddled, trying to stay out of the storm, while they wait for their shipment. He rolls his eyes as he makes his way down to ground level. He can’t let Robin progress any further, knowing that it’s possible Damian has no idea that Tim is here or why he’s here. He lands directly behind Damian, wraps a glove hand over his mouth, and drags him back behind one of the nearby crates. He shoves Damian into said crate, not removing his hand, and glares at him. “You’re about to ruin a case, and possibly end up dead. What are you doing here?”

Damian merely glares at him as well before tearing Tim’s hand away from his mouth. “Working my own case. Now, get out of my way.” He pushes past Tim, but he doesn’t get very far before Tim grabs a hold of his cape and drags him back.

 He all but pushes Damian to the ground. “Get down. The gang that I’ve been tracking is nearby. Follow me to the roof of the adjacent building, and we’ll deal with both of our cases at once.” Tim gestures for Damian to follow him as he moves them away from the gang. Once they’re both on the roof, he whirls on Damian. “What case are you working, and is it related to that bunch down there?”

Damian folds his arms over his chest and scowls. “It has nothing to do with you or those petty criminals. Now, leave me be.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he focuses back on the gang in question. “Fine, whatever, just stay out of sight of that gang, they’re using...”

“I don’t need a lecture from you.” Damian snarls as he stomps over to the other side of the building.

Tim only has a few minutes before the shipment is supposed to arrive, so he doesn’t bother retaking the position he was previously in. This isn’t the best vantage point. After all, several shipping containers now block his view of the east side, but he can still keep an eye on the gang, so that’s something. He’s expecting Damian to take off for the other side of the docks, so Tim is more than a little surprised when he feels Robin move closer to his side of the roof and lean over. “What are you waiting for, Drake? Afraid there’s too many for you?”

Tim can’t help but roll his eyes once more. “Of course not, I’m waiting for the shipment to arrive and they’re using…”

Tim doesn’t get to finish before Damian interrupts with a low growl of, “Cowered,” before leaping off the building.

Tim huffs out an annoyed breath before following him. After all, the last thing that Tim needs to deal with is questions about why and how Robin got shot on his watch. Damian lands in the middle of the group, and they all immediately turn, guns pointed straight at him. Tim flies overhead, drops a smoke pellet, and lands on the guy aiming for right between Damian’s eyes. From that moment on, the two of them move silently, taking down their opponents as quickly and efficiently as possible. Tim wordlessly urges Damian to move faster. He’s been watching this group long enough to know that there are far more of them than the fifteen of them that were outside when Damian decided to crash his stakeout.

There’s a sharp whistle and a call from one of the lookouts, and suddenly more of them pour out of the surrounding buildings. Tim curses, and shoves Damian out of the way of a stray shot. He growls as Damian shoves him back. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you just go home, Red?”

Tim huffs out an annoyed breath as he punches the guy in front of him. “You’re the one who botched my case, so shut up and keep moving.”

Damian whirls around to argue some more as Tim catches a guy out of the corner of his eye aiming straight for the back of Damian’s head. He doesn’t have time to reach for one of his disc before he hears the click of the trigger, so instead Tim grabs Damian and spins them. He’s reaching for his grappling gun before the familiar pain of a bullet tearing through his armor steals his breath away. He manages to shoot off his grapple before another barrage of bullets manages to find their target.

When they get to the roof, Tim immediately releases Damian. He stumbles before falling flat on his face. Tim breathes heavily as he tries to get to his feet. They don’t really have time to sit around waiting for that gang to make their way to the roof, but his back burns and his head is hazy. Robin is beside him. “We have to go!” If Tim didn’t know any better, he would say that that’s panic in Damian’s voice, but Robin doesn’t panic, especially not this Robin.

Tim braces himself for the immense amount of pain standing is going to cause him, but he knows that Damian is right. It takes everything that he has not to scream out in pain as he gets to his feet and makes his way across the rooftops. Tim doesn’t know how far they’ve managed to get before he collapses again. He braces himself against a nearby chimney and tucks himself into a convenient shadow before reaching for his emergency beacon. “Go on, and get out of here. You can’t carry me back, and there’s no reason for you to get caught by that gang. I’ve already hit my emergency beacon. Someone will be along soon.”

Robin scowls as he shakes his head and kneels down beside him. “You’re an imbecile. There’s no way that you can defend yourself.”

“I’ll be fine. Get going.” Tim doesn’t say anything else as he leans his head back against the cool, slick brick of the chimney. The truth is, Tim has no intention of fighting back. The emergency beacon will lead whoever straight to him, even if he gets moved. Sure, it’s likely that if the gang finds him, then they won’t bother capturing him, but there’s no reason for Damian to know that, especially since chances are they aren’t going to bother capturing Robin either.

Damian pushes him forward and slaps something against his back. It takes a second for Tim to realize he’s putting pressure on the wound and not just causing him more pain for the hell of it. “I don’t take orders from you.”

Tim’s amused snort turns into a painful coughing fit and a wince as Damian presses harder. “You don’t take orders from anyone.”

The two of them lapse into silence as they wait. Damian shifts closer to him, holding him upright, probably in order to add more stable pressure. “I suppose I should thank you, though I had it handled.”

Tim shakes his head, although that’s more to clear his vision than anything else. “Last I checked, your head isn’t bullet proof, and there’s no need…just doin’ my job.” Tim slumps down suddenly exhausted as his head falls onto Damian’s shoulder. His head is much too heavy to lift. Besides, he’s sure that Damian will push him away any minute now.

However, as Tim’s eyes drift shut and he fights to open them again. He realizes Damian hasn’t moved an inch. “Stay awake, Drake!” Damian’s voice is stern and commanding, but it does nothing to stop Tim’s eyes from sliding shut again.

XYZXYZ

When Tim awakens, his head is foggy and everything is dark. He blinks rapidly but the darkness and fuzziness don’t fade. He grunts and tries to sit up, but there are suddenly hands on him pushing him back down. “Whoa, whoa, none of that now, little brother. You need to stay still.”

It takes more effort than Tim would like to admit to focus on Dick’s face, which definitely means he’s on the good drugs. After several minutes, Tim realizes it’s dark because he’s in the cave and the lights are down low. “What happened?”

Dick’s brow furrows in concern as he brushes Tim’s hair out of his face. “You tell me. I found you on a rooftop near the docks with a bullet in your back and passed out against Damian’s shoulder, which, let me tell you, was quite the shock, since Robin was benched for the evening.”

Tim nods, because that actually explains a lot. Of course, Damian was down by the docks if he was benched. No one would anticipate he would go anywhere near one of Tim’s cases or his normal patrol routes. It was actually the perfect place for Robin to patrol. In fact, it would have been even better had Tim’s gang been anywhere else. “Well, suddenly a lot of things make sense. Also, that’s the last time I take a bullet for that little snot.”

Dick’s eyes widen at that. “You took a bullet for him?”

Tim tries to shrug, but stops immediately, even with the heavy duty pain killers the action hurts. He doesn’t look forward to when the medicine starts to wear off. “I didn’t have much of a choice. The guy aimed straight for his head. Armor piecing rounds or no, he wasn’t gonna survive that…no matter what the little princeling thinks.”

Dick breathes out a heavy sigh as he tightly clutches Tim’s hand. “Wait, you knew they were using armor piecing rounds?”

Tim stares at him as though he’s a moron. “Of course, I did. I’ve been tracking that gang for weeks. It’s why I dragged him out of the firing zone in the first place, and if he had just listened to me before jumping down there, we could have stopped their new shipment and taken them down for good. Not to mention, I definitely wouldn’t have been shot, but…well, here we are. I’m probably going to have to start my investigation from scratch, since they’ll be keeping a low profile now. I’m not entirely certain how much of that can be done from behind a computer screen, and…”

Dick shakes him a little to get his attention. “You won’t be working on anything until you’re fully healed and you’re staying in the manor for the duration of your recovery, Alfred’s orders. Also Damian is definitely going to be benched for the duration of your recovery once B finds out about this.”

Tim groans as he leans further into the pillow behind him. “Look, I’m all for Damian learning his lesson and getting his comeuppance, but can’t we just tell Bruce that I miscalculated how slippery the roof was due to all of the rain? There’s no need to trap Damian and me in the same building for an extended amount of time. I mean, what did I do to deserve such a punishment, anyway?”

Dick gives him a hard stare. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps, going after a gang that uses armor piercing bullets without any backup…yeah, that might be it.”

Tim glares at that. He’s been working on his own for long enough that that really shouldn’t be a cause for concern “It’s hardly the first time.”

Dick sighs heavily. “Really not the point, little brother.”

“You’re right. The point is, I’m sure that Damian has learned his lesson and all of that, so there’s really no need to...”

“He hasn’t, but he will.” Tim’s eyes widen at the sound of Bruce’s voice coming from somewhere over by the stairs. Well, there goes that lie.

“It’s okay, really.”

Bruce is suddenly right next to him, which is just plain annoying at this point. “What he did was reckless and could have been avoided if you had asked for backup. You both could have died.”

Tim shrugs, and wants to say something along the lines of ‘it’s hardly the first time’, but he knows that it won’t win him any points right now, which is why Tim also doesn’t point out all of the times that Damian actively tried to kill him. “I didn’t need backup. I’ve been working similar cases by myself for months, and if Damian hadn’t shown up unannounced, I would have been fine. Besides, Damian’s fine and I’ll heal.”

Bruce grunts. He certainly doesn’t look happy about the circumstances, but it’s not as though he can argue the truth behind Tim’s statements. It’s not surprising that, given the glare Bruce is leveling at him, Dick is the one to break the silence. “You may have been taking down gangs by yourself for months, but the presence of armor piercing rounds changes things a bit, Timmy.”

Tim shakes his head, and ignores how dizzy it makes him. “No, it doesn’t. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing for months now. That type of ammo needs to be taken off of the streets completely. I’ve personally shut down four suppliers stationed here in Gotham and two overseas.” Both Dick and Bruce just stare at him and Tim can’t help but roll his eyes. “This is all in my reports, you know.”

Bruce glares at him as he folds his arms over his chest. “No, it’s not. There was no mention in any of your reports as to the type of ammo you’ve been tracking.”

Tim scoffs as he tries to sit up again, but Dick stops him. Tim huffs as he settles back down, but his eyes never leave Bruce’s gaze. “At what point did you stop cross referencing my reports and case files to police files and news reports?”

Bruce stares at him impassively, which means that Tim has definitely hit a sore spot. He would care more if he wasn’t so tired and aching. “You know better than to leave out details.”

Tim rolls his eyes again. “Typical, Damian screwed up, I took a bullet, you haven’t been paying attention, and somehow this is all my fault. Well, you know what, I’m tired. So, we can discuss how I’m somehow to blame for all of this later.”

They both look as though they’re going to protest when Alfred appears out of nowhere. “Master Timothy is right. It’s time for him to rest. You two may return to badgering the young man later.” Alfred gives them both a pointed look as they silently leave.

Tim sighs in relief as he settles down. Alfred comes over to fluff his pillow for him. “If I may, young sir?” At Tim’s nod, Alfred continues. “You’ll have to excuse Master Bruce and Master Dick. They were both extremely worried about you, and, I fear, that concern has caused them to speak carelessly, especially since this incident has brought into light exactly how often you act alone.”

Tim huffs out a breath, but he can’t be annoyed with Alfred. He knows the older gentleman is right. “I know. It’s just irritating that this incident wasn’t even my fault and they’re both questioning my ability to handle my cases.”

Alfred lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I understand, Master Tim. However, I think I speak for all of us when I say we would be deeply saddened if something happened to you.”

Tim doesn’t know what to say to that, so he simply reaches up and squeezes Alfred’s hand. The older gentleman quickly returns to his task of checking Tim’s vitals and IV. “Now, Master Timothy, if you’re up to it, there is someone else who would like to speak to you.”

Tim does his best not to show his annoyance as he nods his head. After all, it’s not as though he didn’t notice Damian following Alfred down the steps. Alfred straightens his blanket one last time. “Very well, I shall leave you to it, then. Master Damian, I would appreciate it if you didn’t stay down here too long. Master Timothy does need his rest, and so do you, my dear boy.”

Damian nods once as he takes up Dick’s abandoned seat. Tim waits for him to say something, but the boy doesn’t seem inclined to take the initiative. Still, Tim is known for his patience. After a long moment of silence, Damian finally takes a deep breath and locks his gaze with Tim’s. “Why did you save me?”

Tim is surprised by the question. After all, he’s fairly certain that it should be obvious. “Just doing my job.”

Damian’s brow furrows and his fists clench. “Is that the only reason, then? You saved me because that’s what vigilantes do, and that’s what father expects of you?”

Tim merely shrugs as he tries to suppress a yawn. His eyelids are getting heavy. He wasn’t lying when he told Bruce and Dick that he was tired. “You would have done the same for me.” Tim doesn’t elaborate further as he shuts his eyes and falls back to sleep.

The End

[shobogan]

Fic: Equinox

Pairing: Cass/Brenda, Cass & Steph friendship. Guest appearances by Leslie, Bruce and Tim. Word Count: 3157 Warnings: Hospital scenes, though not very detailed. Summary: For @renaroo​‘s prompt of Steph meeting Cass’s girlfriend! Clearly this means I needed to make a divergent AU where Steph survives War Games and Infinite Crisis doesn’t happen. 

Archive of Our Own

It takes a long time for Stephanie to recover.

In the first week, Cassandra visits quietly, silently, slinking through the windows in the dimming light. But one day, as she sits beside her best friend, Dr. Thompkins flicks on a light.

Cass freezes, flooded with shame and uncertainty; Leslie didn't want her here, before. She wasn't good enough to stop people from dying.

But the doctor's gaze is gentle – even if she studiously avoids the Bat on Cassandra's chest.

“You don't need to sneak around.” She must see the doubt even, beneath the kevlar; she can't read people like Cass does, but years of practice means she's better than most. Her shoulders hunch a little – the same way Bruce's does, when he feels guilty. “None of this is your fault.”

Cass can't hold her gaze, so certain and kind; instead, she looks back down at Steph. She’s covered, mostly, but her face is pale and bruised. “Tried...to find her.”

“You couldn't have known. Even he didn't.” Leslie's voice is lower now, angry – but when Cass looks up again, she sees desperate, mournful love.

“Batman – Bruce – didn't want...this.”

Leslie sighs, raking a hand through limp, mussed hair. (Her clothes are rumpled, and the circles under her eyes are deeper than usual.) “He never does. But here we are.”

Something twists in Cass's chest. There's a heated need to defend him, but when she looks at Steph again - “She just wanted...to be a hero.”

After a moment's hesitation, Leslie steps forward and rests a hand on Cass's shoulder. “She'll recover. You can be here with her as often as you'd like.”

When Batman tells her to go to Bludhaven, she says no.

He tells her that it's not a punishment, not a way to push her away, that she deserves her own city. He doesn't say that he loves her, that he's proud of her, but she can see it anyway. It doesn't matter, not in this moment.

“This – is my city.” She pulls back her cowl. It feels strangely heavy against her neck. “I have...friends. Here.”

His shoulders hunch, a little.

“You can still visit Stephanie. I'll make any arrangements you need.”

She looks away, out at the the city. The jagged skyline that's become her home. The reason her best friend is barely conscious. 

“Robin needs you, too.”

She doesn't mean to pout, as she looks back at him. “That's...cheating.”

“Yes,” He smiles, grim and weary. He doesn’t say that he's worried about Tim, or that he wants them away from a city that’s turned against them, a city that he failed.

She takes his hand, and tells him goodbye.

They become Bludhaven's Dynamic Duo.

They don't actually fight side by side very much; when one of them is in Gotham, sitting at Stephanie's bedside, the other is in Bludhaven. Patrolling, or investigating, or just getting to know the city. One of the highlights for Cassandra is Brenda Miller and her tea shop.

She's never been able to relax with people who weren't like her, who didn't spend their nights prowling and fighting and protecting. But Brenda's easy affection and quiet concern always make her feel lighter,  and their morning chats grow more and more intimate. 

The only problem is, she feels a bit guilty.

The first time they laugh together, it catches in her throat; she takes a sip of tea to hide it, but Brenda sees. (She sees a lot, just like Leslie, even if she doesn't always understand.)

“Cass?”

She wants to say it's nothing, it's fine, but Brenda looks so worried, and she's wondering what she did wrong.

“It's not – you. Promise.” She frowns, trying to grasp the right words. “I was...alone. For a long time. Not much – laughter.” Brenda is nodding, accepting; knows enough about Cain to put some of the pieces together. (She knows what it is, to be on your own, to fight tooth and nail to forge a place for yourself.)

“Then I found Gotham. Found – family. And a friend.”

Brenda's eyes widen, a little. “Your first one?”

“Yeah.” She has to take a moment, filling the space with a few bites of blueberry muffin. “She's – she got hurt. Bad. In the gang war.”

The horror is clear and immediate; the coverage went far and wide, and nothing hid how brutal it all was. “God, Cass, I'm so sorry.” The words aren't hollow; she's never met Stephanie, and she's only known Cassandra for a few weeks, but her heart is bleeding for them.

It makes Cass smile a little, through it all. “She's – awake now, sometimes. But she's...fuzzy. Can't talk much. Can't laugh.”

Understanding dawns, and after a moment's hesitation Brenda reaches out to rest a hand on Cassandra's. “I think she'd want you to laugh.” Her lips quirk in a sheepish, hopeful smile. “I mean, you wouldn't want to be rusty, by the time she's okay.”

Cass blinks hard a few times, before smiling back. “True.”

It's easier, after that, to embrace her emotions – the fluttering in her chest when Brenda grins at her, the warmth in her cheeks when she give her a compliment. It's like flying with Kon through castles of clouds, without ever leaving the ground.

One day, when she enters the shop, Brenda is nervous. It's strange; there's so much steel behind her smile, hard-won pride and confidence that she can wield like a weapon if she has to. Cass has never seen her like this. She barely says a word before handing Cass her tea, and a towering stack of pancakes she'll undercharge for.

Brenda tucks strands of rose-red hair behind her ear, gnawing at her lip. “So – that party, a while ago, it got cut short. And I've got these tickets to a concert – they're a local band, nothing huge, but there's gonna be a mosh pit and food and - “

Cass never thought she could grin quite this widely. It makes her cheeks ache.

“Yes.”

Tim notices, of course. He doesn't see people like she does, but his gaze catches everything, and the wheels in his mind never stop turning. One night when they're actually together, kneeling on a rooftop and missing Gotham's gargoyles, he says “So that's a nice tea shop, huh?”

Cass shoots him a flat look. “Ask...what you want to.”

Tim smiles back, a bit sheepishly. He looks so young, when he does that. “You go there every day, almost. And you're always smiling when you leave. And you've been...you've got a spring in your step.”

She's never blushed quite like this, beneath the mask. She's pretty sure Tim can see it, somehow.

“I just, you know. I want to say...good for you.” He means it, but there's a catch in his voice, in the way his shoulders tense. He's worried about something. “But it's hard. Caring about someone who doesn't know the whole you.”

Cass nods, slowly; Brenda tells her that it doesn't matter what she does, but it still feels like a barrier between them.

Tim smile again, and he looks older this time. “Just – be careful. For both of you.”

They're making progress in Bludhaven – tracking down the corruption, helping people feel safe – but Gotham is just as dangerous for vigilantes. The tension is palpable every time she goes back, whether she's wearing a Bat or not. It's stifling, and frustrating, and it only sharpens her guilt.

But it's always worth it, when she sees Stephanie awake.

She's still so weak, and  her face is pale and bruised, she's hooked up to all kinds of machines. But she always smiles when Cassandra slips inside. “Heya, Batghoul.” (It's funny because Cass is dressed in jeans and a hoodie.) “What's shaking?” Her voice is light, if hoarse. She always tries to be cheerful.

She must know that Cass can see everything seething and aching underneath, but she tries anyway.

Cass shrugs as she smiles back, settling into her usual chair. (Leslie has tied cushions on it, and she keeps mugs of tea and an array of snacks in Stephanie's room.) “Crime.”

Steph rolls her eyes, which makes her grimace for a second before saying, “You need more hobbies, girl.” Her eyes go wide when Cass flushes, and a mischievous grin lights her face. “Okay, dish.”

The flush deepens, of course. She doesn't say a word.

“Don't make me cross my arms, it hurts.”

That gets a pout. “Not fair.”

Stephanie's expression is utterly shameless. (For once.) Cass sighs.

“I, um. Met someone.”

“In Bludhaven?” Steph is teasing, but there's real concern and skepticism, and Cass can't help but bristle. Her words are quicker than usual, stumbling against each other.

“It – can be good. . And she's...kind, and gentle, and she makes tea, and - “

The doubts have already faded; Steph's smile is warm and bright. “Okay, that's adorable.” Cass's shoulders ease again, until Steph continues. “So when do I get to meet her?”

She doesn't talk to Brenda about it, not for a week or so. The idea of tying her two lives together like that – her past and her future, her failures and her hopes – makes her stomach twist. The idea of exposing Brenda to all of it, without even knowing who they really are, is worse.

Then, one day, they're watching the news. It's about rebuilding Gotham, and prosecuting the surviving gang members, and the tension between vigilantes and the police.

Cass's shoulders hunch as they talk about blame, about arrogance and recklessness.

Brenda's arm cross as she glares at the screen. “That's not fair.”

“No?”

Brenda shakes her head, firm and sure. “No. I mean – yeah, they probably should have worked with the cops more. But they saved a lot of lives anyway. They shouldn't be fugitives just because they aren't perfect.”

She gestures out the window, as the sun sets. “Batgirl and Robin are out here busting their asses to help us now, just because they can. I've never felt this safe, and I know a ton of people who feel the same way.”

Cass just stares up at her for a few seconds. There's a swooping in her chest, and tears prick at the edge of her eyes. Brenda is about to ask what's wrong, and then -

“Do you...want to come to Gotham? With me?”

Her apartment looks exactly as she left it – Alfred's effort, no doubt – and the lonely, hollow regret she expected doesn't happen. Maybe it's because Brenda is right behind her when they step inside, and she gazes at the room with delighted curiosity.

“This place is amazing, Cass, how can you afford - “ She grimaces, as she stops herself. “Sorry.”

Cass shakes her head. “No, it's – fine. It's, um, a Wayne building.”

Brenda stills, peering at her. “You mean like the Wayne grant my shop got?”

“Um.” Brenda crosses her arms, which is quite a feat considering she's carrying two bags of luggage, and stares at her expectantly. “He's...like a dad.”

“But not your criminal dad.”

“No.”

“So it's like a fostering thing?”

“...Yes?”

Brenda stares at her a second longer, before shaking her head. “Okay.” She's confused, and a little concerned, but she's willing to shove it aside. She always is.

“Can we talk about it...over lunch?”

It's a small diner, run by a local family; it's one of the few places that survived the quake, more by chance than anything. In the early days, before the supplies ran out, they would serve food to anyone who came by. Some people tried to take it, of course, take everything; it was the first time she stood and fought to protect something in Gotham. Before Oracle, before Batgirl.

The hostess – Hannah, a plump woman with a mass of dark curls, a slightly crooked nose and a wide, kind smile – strides forward and clasps her hands. “Cassandra! We haven't seen you in ages.”

Cass smiles back, a bit bashful. “I've been – in Bludhaven. But - “ She gestures at Brenda, who's been watching with keen interest. “Wanted to show my friend...my favourite spot.”

Hannah turns her grin on Brenda, though she's very clearly looking her up and down. Cass can feel her cheeks flushing as Hannah finally nods, turning around and grabbing a menu. (Just the one; she's always let Cass describe what she wants.)

“Come along, dears, I've got a lovely spot near the window.”

Once they've settled in and ordered some milk shakes, Brenda

“She sure likes you.”

“I, um, helped out, once. When the earthquake hit.”

Brenda's eyes go wide, just like they did when she learned about Steph; the Cataclysm took far more lives than the gang war did. “You were here for that?”

“Yeah. Just got here, when it happened.”

“Damn. Talk about bad timing.”

Cass shakes her head. “People...needed help. And I was here.”

Brenda is staring at her with a stunned admiration that makes her want to cry. Time to change the subject. “That's, um, how I met Bruce.”

“Bruce Wayne.” Her brow furrows. “I remember – he tried to stop that whole No Man's Land thing, right? But it didn't work.”

Cass nods. “Didn't – stop helping people, though. None of them did.”

“Them?”

“His – family. Friends. I...”

She's never mentioned Barbara. (Stephanie told her that Black Canary stops in sometimes. To see how she's doing, but also to ask about Cass. Sometimes she thinks about passing a message along, some kind of peace offering.) “I had – she met me, first. Named me. But...”

Brenda's brow crinkles, and Cass can see the recognition of familiar pain. “You fought?” When she gets a nod in return, “My dad and I...we argued a lot. I acted out after Mom died, and he was just...kind of hollow, you know? Depressed. We ran up a lot of debt between us, so that was nice and stressful.”

There's old pain in the way her hands clutch the table, but steady sureness in the set of her shoulders. “But we worked it out, before he died. There's a lot more I wish we could have said, could have done, but...” She shrugs. “I can think back and say he knew that I loved him, you know? Him and that damn coffee shop.”

Cass blinks hard a few times, as she smiles. “I – like that shop, too.”

Brenda grins back at her, ruefully proud. “Yeah, I noticed.”

They're in Gotham for a few days before visiting Steph. They talk about Bruce and Barbara and Alfred, about tea and dancing, about campy horror movies and frustrating politics. Never about what Cass really does, who she really is.

 Brenda sleeps in the spare bedroom, and Cass pauses by the open door each night, wondering if she should invite her into her own. But she's never done that before, and while she can see Brenda's attraction neither of them has attempted a kiss, and what if they try and she does something wrong, what if she loses her first friend since -

“You're gonna gnaw your lip off.” Brenda's voice is warmly teasing as she steps out onto the balcony. (It's the only apartment that has one; Cass wonders if Bruce had it built for her specifically, and how long ago it must have been.) “Are you that nervous about me meeting Stephanie?”

Cass turns from the waning sunlight with a sheepish smile and a faint blush. “No, it's – something else. Not important. You're ready?” Brenda stares at her just long enough to make her skepticism clear before nodding.

It's dark by the time they reach Crime Alley. Brenda notices the shift in Cass's posture, the closing of space between them, but she doesn't say anything.

Leslie is deeply, quietly pleased to see them, and immediately ushers them towards Steph's room. (There aren't usually permanent rooms in the clinic, but Leslie set this one aside and Bruce paid for all the equipment and comfort Steph would need.) “She's been conserving her energy all week, you know.”

Then they're stepping inside. Steph immediately puts down the comic she's reading, grin broad and eyes twinkling; she almost looks like herself.

“Cass is right, you're totally cute.”

“Stephanie!” Her voice squeaks, and she must be beet red. Then she hears Brenda's delighted chuckle.

“I've been waiting ages for her to tell me that.”

Steph carefully shakes her head, tsking to herself. “She's ridiculous. Almost as much as her dad.”

“You know him, too? God, Bruce Wayne.”

Brenda walks closer; Cass notices she doesn't stiffen, that she steps around the cords easily. Maybe her father was in a room like this, before he died. Still, she hesitates by the chairs until Cass follows and sits beside her.

“You get used to it.” The words are wry. Stephanie didn't know his name until she woke up in this bed. But there's no bitterness in the set of her mouth, not any more. Cass wonders how often he's visited.

“But sometimes you remember he could buy your house with pocket change.”

Brenda's smirk is sharply sympathetic. “I bet he could buy my whole building. Heck, my whole neighbourhood.”

Steph shift – carefully – and taps her chin. “He might already own my neighbourhood.”

“At least your billionaires are better than ours.”

“Yeah, Bludhaven drew the short straw, huh? But we do get more supervillains.”

Brenda raises a hand, rocking it back and forth. “We've gotten more since Nightwing showed up. Not that it was <i>his</i> fault.” Her expression turns wistful. “A lot of us wonder where he is, you know? I hope he's okay.”

Cass looks away, hands curling in her lap. Steph glances at the door, and her voice lowers. “Cass, you look like a kicked puppy. If you want to say something you should.”

As she looks up, “Tim?”

Stephanie smiles, warm and weary. “He doesn't keep secrets from me. Not anymore.”

“Um?” They both look to Brenda, who looked bewildered. “Did I say something wrong?”

Cass and Steph shake heads in tandem. Then Cass turns in her chair, reaching a tentative hand towards Brenda; after a moment, she takes it. “Cass...?”

“I – Nightwing is...okay. Just – needed time. I know, because...” Wither her free hand, she fishes in her pocket, and draws out a batarang.

Brenda stares at it for a moment, flooded with confusion and shock and relief. Then she looks up at Cass like she's seeing her for the first time. Seeing all of her, finally. “That explains a lot.”

Cass doesn't think; she just pulls Brenda close and kisses her. She barely hears Steph cheering from the bed.

When they part, noses brushing, Brenda murmurs something that makes her heart soar and plummet all at once, something she agrees to before Brenda's even finished.

“I think you should introduce me to Barbara next.”

[redrobin-detective]

Prompt idea - Deathstroke has kidnapped a wounded Dick Grayson. Batman and Dick's siblings come to the rescue. Points for some interesting introspection as Deathstroke tells bat family why he thinks Dick is the perfect son/protégé for him and manages to his some nerves.

This ended up being… very curious. Let’s see what you all make of it.

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Batman, Bruce, chastises in a very rare loss of composure in the cowl. Tim shifts slightly in the seat beside him, he’s been the one who’s been toying with the jet to increase speed and efficiency so the comment really was directed at him.

“We’re going as fast as we can given the size and weight of the ship,” he responds lightly. “We’re going to get him back B, you know how tough Wing is.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to leave him in the hands of that lunatic for any longer than necessary,” Bruce grounds out turning to glare at his middle son. “You don’t understand what Deathstroke is capable of Tim, the Titans have only gotten a taste of what that man is capable of, and he’s had Dick for hours.” Even Tim, who’s well-practiced at the art of ignoring Batman’s glares, shrinks a bit under the force of this one.

“Alright, I know it’s good fun to beat up the kid but lighten up B.” Jason says from the back, giving Bruce’s chair a kick to stop his lecturing. “Besides, we all know that Slade is super in love with Dickie Bird and won’t touch a hair on his head, it’s been that way since I wore short pants.” Jay shrugged as we went back to lounging in the back seat, completely unworried. He bets by the time they get there, Dick will have already beaten Deathstroke and be waiting for pick-up.

“Nightwing took several bad hits before he was taken,” Damian interjects, about as edgy as Hood was calm. He’d been unable to stop his partner from being viciously beaten nor stop his kidnapping. If something happened to Grayson he would never forgive himself. “And it’s unwise to underestimate Deathstroke. Even my Grandfather holds him in high regard which goes to show how cunning and skilled he is. He must be if he gives Grayson such a difficult time.”

“It’ll be fine,” Tim concludes quietly, “Dick is tough and has handled Deathstroke before. Besides he has all of us there to back him up if need be.”

“Amen to that Little Red,” Hood says cheerfully. “And look at that, it seems we’re coming up on Wing’s location.” Batman takes over manual control of the plane, as the tracking device in Dick’s suit alerts them that they’re nearing their destination. He rolls in shoulders in preparation of, what he hopes, is a pretty awesome brawl.  

“Oh man, what is going on down there?” Tim mutters quietly as he looks out the window. Immediately Dami looks out his while Hood unbuckles from his seat and crowds over Damian.

“What the hell?” Jason mutters as they fly over a deserted beach and see Deathstroke and Nightwing, sitting on the sand seemingly without care. “What are you doing Dick?” He asks to himself as B, observing their reactions, brings the plane down into a dive and lands in a rough, but still passable manner just a few hundred yards from where Dick and Deathstroke were sitting.

“Be prepared for anything,” Batman growls as he throws off his seatbelt and makes last second additions to his belt. “Deathstroke is known for his unpredictability but priority one is getting Nightwing out safely." He continues curtly before stalking off the plane, completely forgoing any attempt at stealth. Deathstroke was changing the rules, the usual techniques no longer applied.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne,” Deathstroke says once the four Bats are in ear shot, “and Mr. Todd-Wayne, Mr. Drake-Wayne and the young Mr. Wayne as well. Lovely day out isn’t it?” Slade is methodically sharpening a collection of knives on the beach, not even in a threatening manner, just in a professional, casual way.

“What have you done to Nightwing?” Batman barks taking a few more steps closer but the knife Slade is sharpening comes up and the Bat halts. They stay that way for a moment before Slade goes back to his task.

“We’re just talking, nothing big, just normal stuff.” And true to form, Dick doesn’t look to be in any harm. The injuries from earlier appear to have been attended to, his belt and gloves are not on him but laid to the side about a foot away. Other than that, he’s just sitting there with a relaxed look on his face. “He was a bit of trouble when I was patching up his injuries so I gave him a muscle relaxant. He’s a little less chatty than normal but still perfectly aware of what’s going on.”

“Let him go Deathstroke, you’re through hurting him.” Robin spat out vicious, running forward to attack the assassin only to be stopped in his tracks by both Batman and Hood grabbing at his shoulders.

“Hurt him?” Deathstroke says innocently, “I would never dream of hurting him. Look at him boy, does he look hurt to you?” Damian’s face draws up into a sneer but the man continues. “Have I not treated his injuries? Brought him to a relaxing location to put his busy mind and body at ease? He’s not even bound, should he wish to leave, he could have done so at any time.” Through the black and orange mask, they could feel him smiling. “In fact, the ones who regularly hurt him have just interrupted our little chat.”

“You dirty liar,” Damian said, squirming and kicking but the elder Bats held on firm as much as they wanted to rush into the assassin. Whatever this was, it was new and they couldn’t just dive in and risk setting whatever trap Slade had set.

“Guys relax, it’s okay,” Dick said suddenly from his spot, still looking a bit dazed but there wasn’t any fear or anger in his tone. “We were just talking.”

“You see?” Deathstroke nodded, lightly gesturing to Dick with his knife. “We’ve been having a great conversation. Dick’s told me some stories from his time in the circus, we compared training regimes, I even shared with him one of my prized slow cooker recipes. Just guy talk.”

“The hell are you up to?” Hood demanded, debating if he should let the brat go at it so they could end whatever the hell was happening.

“I just decided to switch things up a bit, thank to you Timothy.” Slade said gently with a nod in the direction of Red Robin. “The Titans stole two of my children from me, when Rose finally betrayed me, the Robin at the time commented how they always turned because I never treated them with the love and respect they needed. I never gave them a reason to stay.”

“Rose and Joey left you because you were a manipulative, abusive asshole and talking recipes isn’t going to change that, or make Dick want to stay with you.” Red Robin said sternly, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the silent accusations coming from his team.

“Oh I agree. After all, what kind of father would take a young, vulnerable child who’s already suffered enough to last a lifetime and put them in a costume and throw them out into the rough, unrelenting world of capes and criminals.” Batman tensed up, “now that sounds pretty abusive to me, I think Dick agrees too.”

“You don’t-” Batman started before he was cut off.

“Of course if I’d treated Joey or Rose with more respect, allowed them to grow on their own instead of confining them to my side, forcing them to aid in my growth and progression while denying them their own, they might have stayed. They might not have run off to join the Teen Titans or anywhere really just to get away from their cruel, merciless father who can’t see beyond the mission.” Dick’s eyes narrow on Bruce as Deathstroke keeps talking and even the other Bats are side-eyeing their mentor. It’s one thing to live through it, another to have it stated so plainly.

“Maybe if Joey and Rose got on better it would have been different as well,” the assassin sighs. “I was an only child so I can’t imagine the heartache siblings would cause. Reckless younger brothers who refuse to listen, taking advantage of the older sibling’s good will and cheer and use and abuse him for their own purposes. No wonder the children left me.” There’s more wincing from the Bats and Deathstroke can only smile. That’s enough for one day, the seeds have been planted, not just in Grayson but all of them. He bets by the end of the year, Dick will be on the outs with his supposed family again and maybe, just maybe, might end up on his doorstep. He sets down the knife and begins packing up.

“Well it has been an illuminating talk but Dick here probably does need his rest and I’m sure you’re all tired from the rather bruising battle this morning. Why don’t you take him back home and we’ll fight it out again some other time?” He leaned over and patted Dick’s knee. “Time to go, your weapons are to your right. I’m sure your family will take the very best care of you, after all, they don’t want to follow my example now would they?” Deathstroke carefully got to his feet. “It’s been a pleasure as always, safe flight home.” And with that, he picked up the bag at his feet and began to walk away from the small, tense group.

Damian wriggled out of his captors’ grasp and ran over to his brother. He knelt down and gently patted the older man to assess for any unknown injuries. He was surprised and more than a little hurt when Dick brushed his hands aside.

“I’m fine,” the acrobat said, struggling to his feet. “The relaxant is wearing off, I can walk on my own.” He says in a quiet monotone, walking silently past Damian and the others to get back onto the plane.

“Dick,” Bruce said calmly, reaching out a hand to his oldest. “You know what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to put cracks in our infrastructure, to plant doubt and conflict in an attempt to draw you onto his side. You know he’s just saying those things to manipulate you.” Dick frowns and steps out of the reach of Bruce’s hand.

“Yeah, I know he is but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t bring up valid points. I just,” the man sighed, feeling far older than his 25 years. “I just need some time to think.” With that, he walked silently onto the plane and the Bats exchanged worried looks with one another. This was going to be a long, awkward flight back to Gotham.