#They both wake up with a terrible headache and a new bestie

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Eldest’s Privilege (dp x dc)

“My brother got into a fist-fight with our mayor,” Jazz stated loudly, as she gestured with her cocktail glass, unbothered by the stares of the other patrons.

“My brother has bitten more than three socialites in the last month,” The equally inebriated man, who’d introduced himself as Dick, retorted at a similar volume.

“Well, my sister tried to kill my brother within the first three days of meeting him,” Jazz snipped back.

“My brother’s first murder attempt on his sibling was within the first three minutes of meeting him,” Dick answered primly as he stirred his drink.

The redhead narrowed her eyes as she grabbed the little decorative umbrella from her glass. She pointed it at Dick and retorted: “My sister went on a year-long solo trip to explore the world.”

The man squinted in return before he smirked, “My sister has been living in Hong Kong for two years now.”

“Well, my sister was twelve,” Jazz said triumphantly.

Dick blinked before he tilted his head consideringly. “Yeah, ok. You win this one.”

Jazz let out a victory cheer before downing the drink in her hand. Dick gave her a congratulatory pat and chugged his own drink

“What’s the score?” Jazz asked as she twirled the umbrella between her fingers, her head held up by her hand.

Dick frowned. “I forgot,” he said before fishing an ice-cube out of his glass and munching on it.

Jazz frowned too, before her face cleared and she perked up “A tie-breaker!” She exclaimed. “Whoever does the most shots wins by default.”

Dick’s eyes gained a competitive glint and he smirked. “Oh, you are so going down.”

[dreamerdoesthewritething]

[Part 6 let's gooooooo. AFAB Bestie x RE2R Leon story keeps going and going and going...Kinda a slow burn, though, right?]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

When you and Leon woke up the next morning, you fully expected the events of the previous night to be forgotten. Hell, you barely remember it and you were less drunk than he was. You decide to put it behind you, act like it was just a dream, continue on with your life as you had up to this point. It wouldn't be addressed unless you had no choice. That's your decision.

You're making breakfast when a groggy Leon emerges from the guestroom, groaning with his head in his hands. Ah yes, the worst part of drinking: the hangover. You expected this, so you already have a pot of coffee brewing and a couple of pills to help him out. You're grateful your own hangover headache is almost nonexistent. Lucky, lucky you.

"God, I am never drinking again," Leon swears, collapsing in one of your dining chairs. A mug of coffee and his headache relief soon take their place in front of him

That's a lie and you both know it. No point calling it out.

"How'd you sleep?" he asks as you set breakfast down between the mug and the meds.

"Okay, I guess," you reply with a shrug. "You?"

"Like a baby, I think."

"Don't babies wake up multiple times in the night and cry? That's a terrible phrase, if you think about it."

"Ugh, don't make me think, sweetheart. Any thought is just gonna hurt me right now."

You stifle a laugh, sparing him from the noise, just to be safe. With your own breakfast in hand, you take a seat across from him, purposely keeping your eyes down. You're not sure you can stand to meet his gaze. Not until you've got something in your system, at least. It must be a mutual feeling, because he's not really looking at you, either.

For a while, you eat in silence.

He's the one to break it.

"Did I...do anything to upset you last night?"

"Hmm? Like what?"

"I don't know...I can't remember everything, but..." He shakes his head, as if that will clear the fog hovering over his memories. "Something seems...off. Something I did, something I said...I had to have done something."

You simply shrug. "Honestly, Leon, I don't remember last night any more than you do. We should've stopped drinking sooner than we did, you know. Well, we know better for next time."

His taste still lingers on your lips. Despite the time that has passed and the food you're eating, you can still feel his lips, his tongue, him. The memory of that drunken kiss, while fuzzy for your mind, is very clear to your senses. Of course. You can't be lucky enough to fully forget one of your fantasies becoming reality. It's going to haunt you for a long time, if not the rest of your life.

What you don't know is Leon is testing you. He actually remembers everything from last night. It's unfortunate how little alcohol lets him forget, no matter how much he tries to make it do more. To be fair, it wasn't like he woke up and instantly knew what happened. It took seeing your bruised hand to trigger the avalanche of memories, one only he seemed have been swept up in.

Or that's what you want him to think.

He can tell you're not being honest, not completely. That has to be his fault. Came on too strong with his lowered inhibitions. It doesn't matter he meant everything he said. He made you uncomfortable. That has to be why you're acting like nothing happened. You want to leave it all in the past. Don't address it, just forget it.

Maybe that's for the best.

Attraction can only go so far. A relationship requires so much more. Time. Effort. Communication. Love. As an agent, his time is not his, he cannot always be open and honest with you or anyone, and the amount of effort he could give you wouldn't be fully up to him. Love is the easy part. It's already there, for both of you.

But it's not enough, is it?

There's little he can do to change this. He cannot escape his new role in life. They'd never allow him, given what he knows and what he's capable of. The other option would be to have you join him, but fuck if he'd ever even consider that. He can't imagine putting you through even half the things he was forced to do. It'd break you even more than it's broken him.

"Leon, you okay?"

Your voice brings him out of his mind and he realizes he's been staring at you for a while now. Oops. Heat rises to his cheeks as he quickly looks away, muttering an apology for zoning out. He needs good sleep, not the kind induced by heavy drinking. He also just needs to stop thinking about you when you're in the same room, because he can't help himself when you're around.

"Do you have any plans for the day?" you ask.

He shakes his head. "They've given me a few days off since yesterday was..." An involuntary flinch, which he covers up with a yawn. "I got a mess at home to clean up, but after that? No plans. What about you?"

"It's the weekend, so no, not really."

Leon holds back the question that immediately jumped in his head. What was it? "Don't you have any other friends?" Something along that line. He knows you don't. you have acquaintances and coworkers, but no one ever gets close enough to you to be considered a friend. In the past, many that tried to befriend you turned out to be using you to get closer to him. You were blind to it while he could always see right through them. It shattered your ability to trust people to like you for who you are.

So of course. No plans for the weekend for you, unless a close family member or he himself made them with you.

"Are you sure you're okay? You seem to have a lot on your mind."

"Uh, yeah. Head's just swimming. Sorry." A pause. "You're always worrying about me. I'm sorry it keeps happening."

"Story of my life. Been worrying about you since we were kids and I'll keep worrying about you til I'm dead."

"That's a lot of worrying, since you're gonna live to be, what, a hundred at least?"

You snort. "Not likely. You've got a better chance of that than me."

Who was being the optimistic one now?

It's true you didn't know everything about the horrors Leon would be facing regularly. The training, the monsters he was training to fight, the humans behind the monsters, and all the weaponry and mind games that came with such things...Those would largely remain a mystery to you, if you were lucky. You know he was in danger whenever he's gone, but he doubts you'll ever fully grasp just how much his life is in peril during those times. Your mundane life is so, so much safer. If you somehow die before he does, he'd be shocked... and he wouldn't live much longer, if he's honest.

He'll never tell you that. Never.

"Hey, I know I don't say this enough," Leon says, "but thank you."

"For what?" you ask.

"Everything."

"Oh, is that all?" You laugh. "Well then, you're welcome for everything, I guess."

It's that smile. Awkward, genuine, cute. His heart skips a beat and the heat rises to his face. You don't even notice, because from your perspective, he's barely flushed and any redness can be explained away as coming from his hangover. You're so oblivious about his feelings. It's a part of you he both loves and loathes.

You take him home, not realizing you are his home. He pulls you into a hug before you leave, thanking you again for being the best, mentally kicking himself for not bringing up his confession. He doesn't deserve you.

No, it's not just that. He simply can't have you, not with the life he's now forced to lead.

At least you'll always be there for him, even if he cannot love you the way he wants. The way you want.

Why must his life always be so unfair...?

[iphoenixrising]

hey we haven’t heard anything from you in a while. everything good? How’s life treating you? All my love for one of my favorite batfam writers!💗💗💗

Hi babe.

Ah sorry, I’ve been super busy at work and with kiddo :( I mean, I’m still writing when I can, but it’s just time and motivation. My project has really taken off (reads as: expanded) and most nights I’m chipping away at the massive amount of documentation for not only a Java-based framework, but an entire Platform *sob* So, it’s just such a huge amount of old articles and brainstorming sessions and meeting minutes and just ugh. I mean, it’s kind of interesting to try tracking all these things down and figuring out how they’re going to work together since the developers (from 12 to 50-ish, my God and now they want me to read markdown and do pull requests for comments and shit because this is my fucking life) are still working on the platform services, the development environment, and all these fucking tools I’ve never heard of (Kubernetes, wtf is this thing??) so I’m learning a foreign language almost tbh.

Did I mention *sigh*?

ANYWAY, also some of the things I’m working on that are like Batfam are a little more...I dunno, just things that a bit harder for me I guess, but even if I write just a sentence or two, I still count it as a win.

But like...I said something about a Sentinel / Guide Au, and even though I’m at what would be a good stopping point, I’m not very happy with it :/ So, if you’d like to see kind of what I’ve been doing, I’m going to throw down what I’ve got below the cut. 

Warnings: 

DickTim, Angst

Sentinel/Guide Au

**

After he brings B back from time, send the Dark Knight back to Gotham, he gives in to things long overdue, and trains with Shiva–

–to be an effective Guide.

Years of suppressants made it literally hell without them, trying to keep his shields up, trying to push out the telepathic traffic suffocating him the second he opens up just a crack.

Shiva, of course, had been her cheerfully murderous self, plying him with the full onslaught of a powerful Sentinel.

"You will be drawn to us from now on, Little Bird. You will want to protect us, bring us back from the abyss. If you choose to allow your powers as a Guide rein free, then you must learn to fight against the urges."

The fucked-up part is–

–she's right.

If he wants to stay in the life, wear the cape and cowl under the new name, go back to the Titans (since they've been looking for him again, fly-bys and searches for his tech), then he needs to learn how to deal with what he can do and how to deal with the instincts that come along for the ride.

It's not enough that Shiva is in the middle of hunting down a few former students ("They have made...the wrong choices." 

"That's rich coming from you, you know."

"We all have a code, Little Bird, and I am no different.")

but they managed to run into a few other Sentinels along the way.

He'd like to say he'd taken his ass beating like a pro at this juncture in the vigilante game, but the reality is, they'd had to take shelter in a shitty lean-to, so he could be tragically, metaphysically hung-over.

He gives up the cowl and suit, utility belt and sundries. He goes as a wrecked teenage American boy, changing it up from the last time he trekked behind Lady Shiva and took on her adversaries. He tries not to think about Dick or Jason, Dami or Alfred, tries not to think about the confused look on B's face in his safe house, drying his hair after a long shower, trying to readjust to the current timeline.

("You aren't going back to Gotham?"

"I still have things to do."

"...there's something you aren't telling me."

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

"Come to me when you're ready, Tim. No matter what, you're always going to be one of my Robins.")

Instead, he learns how to keep himself, and the Sentinels around him, safe and sane while trying to stay two steps ahead of the next fight, the next clue, the next "training."

In Shanghai a few months later, he knows it's time to move on when people part ways for the brightly clad superheroes coming en-masse down the packed street for him.

Well, moving on it is.

Going back to the Tower, away from the Bats and Gotham and the Rogue Gallery (thinking about facing the Joker this raw and open is fucking terrifying), was the best he was going to get considering the circumstances.

Those circumstances being the pointed twitch over Kon's eye and Bart's very intense gaze.

"You were supposed to call, asshole. The OG Batman has been back in Gotham for like months and you've just been, you know, chilling with Lady Shiva?"

Tim, who is so out of bullshit at this juncture, feels better after a hot shower and some old sweats with a Superboy t-shirt, throws up his fucking hands.

"All right, fine. I never told anyone. I...I've been on suppressants since I was a kid, just like my mom. Guides..."

"It's not that bad anymore!" Cassie tries helplessly, the first to actually reach across the table for his hand.

The instant connection makes them both gasp. It’s a shallow one, just a dip under her natural shield (he knows it’s Cissy, the Guide that’s been helping her until now, bringing her back whenever she hits a Zone, recognizes the touch of their Arrowette), just a skim over her immediate emotions  this thing now untried and how utterly calm he makes her just by hands lightly placed. 

"O-ooh," is soft while his fingers tighten, his eyes sharpen, his shields constructing around her, his instinct to protect.

"Not necessary," Gar chimes in, still leaning against the door between the kitchen and communal entertainment room, "we're all good in the Tower, T."

Is what shakes him out of it, hastily pulling away from Cassie's hand.

"Wow." Wonder Girl breathes out, eyes soft and half-mast, looking at him dreamily.

"Nope." Because he can already feel the headache coming on, how her hand tries to grab back at his.

“We could fight better together, Tim!”

“Do you even know how strong a Guide has to be to take care of four Sentinels?”

In one terribly creepy singular move, Bart, Kon, Gar, and Cassie give him that look.

You know, aimed at his face.

"No one," Bart cuts in, eyes wide at the exchange, of Tim's aura warm and inviting suddenly stronger, reaching out... "Tim, T. No one has to know."

The flash of fear, a residual from the tunic, makes him hedge back a subtle step back.

Kon pointedly grips him by the bicep, over his shirt while Bart moves enough that his shoulder bumps into Tim’s ribs, halting the possible escape attempt.

“Okay, okay, backing off. New powers are about a bitch, not like we all haven’t been there once or twice.” Kon soothes over, taking small steps and tugging until Tim is moving with him closer to the communal kitchen where his seat is empty at the island, and they can possibly get proof the guy actually eats.

“Amen,” Cassie throws up a hand and is already digging through the fridge until she finds–

–the last grape Zesti.

Tim’s eyes narrow dangerously on that singular can, his body moving before his brain can take over because he’s sliding on his old chair, the can cold against his fingers, too thirsty for caffeine that he can’t even.

Sure, it’s a trap, but with these guys, at least he knows it.

“I’m very not ready to do anything remotely Guide-like in the field,” the soft ca-saaaa as the can opens. “You want me to sleuth, fight, and strategize, then I’m all for it.”

Bart is just suddenly in Kon’s usual seat beside him, spinning around in tight, fast circles, “you mean you’re thinking about coming back? To the life?” 

“Dude, that would be stellar.”

Tim side-eyes his besties, “it was never in the plan to-to stop.”

“Can’t blame us for assuming, you know,” Gar grins toothily, “no Red Robin for a while, my dude.”

Tim goes quiet, staring down at the can between his hands, shoulders hunched over.

“At least,” Raven’s voice is smooth and soft, comforting, “tell us why now, Tim?”

“Why now?”

“Why begin training as a Guide now?” She clarifies, sliding into the seat across from her, and the coolness of her aura, not a Sentinel, but something purely Raven puts his frayed nerves at ease, makes it easier for him to find the words.

“I turned 18,” and he can’t look at them while he admits to it, “and...and I figured out who my Sentinel is after Ra’s kicked me out the window.” (I was fine going out that way. It was fine. I was saving Wayne Enterprises from the League of Assassins, I was fighting the good fight. It shouldn’t have happened that way...why did it have to happen that way?)

“Oh,” and Cassie’s eyes get huge.

“Ra’s al Ghul is your Sentinel?!” Bart fairly screams.

“No dude,” Tim rolls his eyes and finds his can suddenly fascinating. “It’s...Dick. He’s...yeah. It’s him.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Kon hurries, standing shock-still, “I didn’t hear any of that.”

“Not him,” Bart is gritting his teeth because dammit, why couldn’t Tim have been his Guide? The universe was totally, wholly unfair.

A muscle in Tim’s jaw flexes, his nose pinkening along his upper cheekbones. He blinks watery eyes, takes a deep, deep breath to try and keep himself under control. 

“Yeah,” and Tim sighs a little, the ache in his chest more acutely painful when he thinks about that moment waking up in the Cave, Dick in the Batsuit without the cape/cowl combo smiling down at him, still painfully unaware of the connection drawn tight between them.

(He doesn’t need me. He’s got Babs and Dami. His Guide and his Robin.)

Getting the absolute fuck out of the Manor had been his first order of business once he’d come to, just sprouting whatever placating bullshit Dick needed to hear to let him go without much of a fight (this time).

Finding Bruce and staying the hell out of Gotham hadn’t helped the pull he inexplicably felt, or the pressure of minds around him that had sent him to Shiva in the first damn place. His Guide abilities were overcoming the suppressants, so he was out of time...and out of options. 

Still, even with the training, he occasionally has the dreams at night. Not the usual array of awful nightmares from his real life, Jason shooting him in the chest at point-blank to make sure the job gets done this time, Bruce dying right before his eyes, turning into that skeleton husk Superman brought to them thinking it was the real thing, Damian sneering at him with the katana held high, spitting out how it’s time the real Robin took his rightful place just before bringing the blade down–

No, no, it’s even worse than those.

It’s shadowy hands touching him, the warm wet of a mouth over his skin and scars, gentle voice in his ear telling him how beautiful he is, how much he’s needed, wanted, how it’s not just because of what he is or what tunic he used to wear, it’s all because he’s Tim. He doesn’t wake up when his dream self realizes it’s Dick over him, those blue eyes taking him in, pinning his wrists down to look over every inch of his naked body. He doesn’t wake up when Dick starts preparing him. He doesn’t wake up when Dick kisses him hard and desperate. He doesn’t wake up when the tears dry on his face and their bodies line up.

“Mine,” his dream Sentinel doesn’t even hesitate, “Don’t ever run from me again. Do you understand me, Tim?”

Just before Dick pushes, he wakes up, panting and hard, his instincts going crazy enough that he has to meditate to calm down.

Cassie gently wraps her hand around his shoulder, making sure they don’t have skin-to-skin contact this time. “I’m sorry,” she smiles gently at his frown, “I know you and Dick have had some...issues in the past few years.” But he can read the guilt in her face. Back when everyone thought Bruce was dead and his cape had been yanked out from under him, Dick had sent Cassie to try talking some “sense” into him. She still feels awful for jumping on the same train everyone else had been riding, the ‘that guy is suffering from depression’ instead of believing he might actually be right. 

(It still stings though, doesn’t it?)

He doesn’t say anything back, just looks out one of the big windows and pulls out of her hold to take a drink of his Zesti.

“But,” Gar quickly jumps in, “you’ll stay in the Tower and fight on the team again, right? Like, no more trips with World’s Deadliest Assassins?”

Tim visibly hesitates, pausing with the can up to his mouth. 

Slowly, he lowers it, his eyes taking on a cold calculation that is and isn’t like their old Rob. “Like I said, I can’t be a Guide for anyone, and I mean that. Second, I told you the truth in confidence, so I expect everyone to keep my secret. Third, I’m not anywhere near ready to go to Gotham or face the Bats, so for now, I’m fighting under the radar. If those aren’t acceptable stipulations, I’ll grab some of my clothes from storage and be out of your Tower.”

“Storage?” Kon glances around at the team, “Tim, buddy, why do you think we’d have your stuff in storage?”

“I assumed Dick would already approach you about making Damian part of the team,” his tone is absolutely empty, emotionless. “And there’s no way both of us could be here at the same time, so...” he lets them put it together from there.

The look of utter devastation on Kon’s face makes him feel slightly better.

**

Coming back when Cassie, Bart, and Kon have his back, just like they were closer to the end of their YJ run, makes the transition easier than it realistically should have been.

And it really might just be how low the dose of suppressants are now, or that he feels comfortable stepping into Robin’s role on the team, just with a different name, a different mask. It might just be how Bart has a tendency to hover with that hummingbird energy coming off him even when he’s seemingly standing still, maybe it’s Kon’s TTK pressing at his back even if the guy is across the room, maybe it’s how he and Cassie have leadership meetings where they just binge watch reruns of Gossip Girl and eat ice cream to bemoan their woes. 

But maybe, it’s how he can feel them pulling at his shields unconsciously. Maybe it’s how he can sometimes push back enough, can skim just the edges to get impressions of angry, sad, depressed and gently erect a mental shield without delving deep without permission, can give them the space they need from their intense senses and powers. 

Just another way he can be the regular guy on the team, working under the radar. So much a part of his role in the first damn place. 

He doesn’t realize it becomes something normal until they take the good fight a little too close to Gotham for his liking, but the choices were few and Luthor is such an incredible ass hat that Tim actually plays it down, dresses up as CEO Tim Drake to divert their baddie while the team takes apart his latest weapon of mass destruction on the down-low.

What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to leave the lobby of one of the most posh restaurants in Metropolis–

And walk face-first into Dick Gryson’s chest.

(Technically, it’s Nightwing, but really, this doesn’t make the sitch any better.)

A hand, black with blue fingerstripes, covers his mouth, and the sound of a grapple retracting is a pending oh no that he doesn’t fight the vigilante pretty much kidnapping him off the street in broad daylight. 

He can only thank God it isn’t skin-to-skin contact because his inner senses are flaring this close to the Sentinel, his Sentinel, that he has to grind his back teeth to keep himself in check. He pulls away the second they land it on solid rooftop, shoving his sleeve back to check the team’s status on his hidden wrist computer. 

Mission success! 

“Imagine my surprise,” Nightwing growls, hand on his shoulder to spin him around, “when I find you having lunch with someone like Lex Luthor instead of taking my damn calls, Timmy.”

Stepping out of that hold is subtle because Tim is looking over the side of the roof, adjusting his tie to try putting some distance between them. “I’m undercover. Those are the things people like us do when we’re running an Op, Nightwing.”

Those whiteouts narrow on him, a trick only Dick can really pull off effectively. “None of that tells me where the hell you’ve been for the last year since you left to find Bruce, found him, and didn’t come back.”

His back straightens, eyes looking away when the irritation and heat of anger hits him harder without the nice little cocktail of suppressants and stabilizers, makes his own shields tremble at the burning sear along the edges of his consciousness. 

Instead of saying something he might come to regret, Tim sucks in a breath through his nose and works through the bolt of pain, gathers his shields around himself to keep the Sentinel from unerringly lashing out at him again.

“What the hell are you even doing here? Recon on Luthor? For which nefarious plot?”

A black and blue hand slashes the space between them, “not even important, Tim. So, how about you call your team and tell them you’ve got some Bat business because we? Need to talk.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“You heard me. I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks.”

“I sent back your case files, asshole–”

“Not about cape and cowl shit, Tim!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now,” even though he does, he really does. He just doesn’t know why it has to happen now.

Nightwing, however, has had enough of the talk and with a whip of his arm has a bolo out and thrown, his natural speed as a Sentinel might be slower than someone like the Flash, but it still has Tim wrapped up tight faster than he can realistically dodge.

The sight of the vigilante Nightwing swinging through Metropolis with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises over one shoulder would be big news in the city if anyone had been bothered to really look up.

**

The hotel is nice Tim thinks while wiggling around on the bed where Dick pretty much dumped him. His fingers are already getting the bolo loose from around his upper body by the time Dick has the mask off and the Nightwing suit unzipped to flop around his waist.

The Gotham Knights t-shirt underneath is a new one since the old faded one got blown up in that little explosion in the ‘Haven a few years back.

Dick lifts and sets a chair down with a pointed clack, sitting down to watch Tim squirm his way up. He’s got the bolo loose enough to brace his palms.

“What part of I’m in the middle of an OP–”

“Don’t care,” Dick cuts him off ruthlessly, those blue eyes hard and jaw tense. “I honestly don’t give a crap about the Titans right now.”

“Well I sure as hell do thank-you very much,” Tim pulls the bolo off, tosses it across the room with an angry flick, facing his former mentor, former partner, former friend with those old feelings creeping up his throat to make the taste in his mouth coppery and bitter.

“The only thing I care about right now is that I finally caught up to you. The last time I even saw you was that swan dive–”

“I’m aware. Being kicked out of a window is pretty memorable, even for people like us,” he keeps it deadpan, keeps the anger and irritation, the feelings of shit like betrayal and it must have been so easy to throw me the fuck away.

“The point is, smart ass, you left the Cave and haven’t been back. You only answer my emails about cases and bad guys. But when I ask you to come back home, which I have, Tim, I don’t even know how many times, and I get nothing! We need you–”

“Why would I come back to Gotham for you?” Is what spills out of his mouth, something bitter and foul. “You’ve already got a fucking Robin to be your little brother, remember?”

Welp, there goes playing it cool.

But watching Dick jerk back like Tim had landed a physical blow was more satisfying than he wanted to admit.  

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re still angry about that? I’ve explained to you exactly why–”

The irritation in Dick’s tone, obvious disgust when he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest is just about enough.

“You explained it just fine. You made your choice, so everyone just has to deal with it, right? Yeah, that’s really being my equal.” 

Tim makes himself stay deadly calm and cold, moves his legs away from Dick’s to stand and take a few steps away from the seething Sentinel to adjust his tie and try to get his hands to quit trembling. 

“I can’t believe you’re acting this childish, Tim. I’m really disappointed with you right now.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, Dick, disappointed in each other,” but it strikes him anyway in the small, sad place where he held on to the hope they could still work everything out somehow and at least go back to being friends. A small part that’s been slowly dying in degrees, and that last hit is enough to make it so absurdly painful.

(All those years in the R, fighting the good fight, being brothers, having each other’s backs, and it all ends here, doesn’t it?)

“What? I did everything I could do for you! I–”

“If that’s what you want to believe, then that’s fine. I don’t have any reasons to argue with you,” staring at his own reflection in the mirror, seeing the red start to creep over his cheeks, his eyes get overly shiny, Tim Drake straightens his spine and flexes his own shields. 

He keeps himself together enough to turn on a heel and walk calmly to the door.

“Tim, just...okay, just wait. Let’s talk this out–”

He doesn’t even turn, hand already on the knob, just pulls open the door and takes a hasty step through. It’s only the first step, but Dick is still just suddenly there, trying to snatch at Tim’s wrist with a bare hand, managing the brush of fingertips over a pulse.

“Don’t leave like this,” Is the last thing Dick says before the electric shock slides up his spine, the pull to all his senses almost has him on his knees.

The touch has Tim lurching away, jerking his wrist up to cradle against his chest, the red burn of Dick’s emotions beating at his shields harder with just a simple graze.

It ends with Dick still in the doorway, braced against the frame, gaping, and Tim leaning heavily into the wall across the hall, a wince on his face.

Stupid metaphysical connections and shit.

The touch hadn’t been enough to, you know, like bond them or anything, but it’s widely believed True Pairs didn’t even have to touch to get impressions from one another.

“You asshole,” he seethes at that shocked expression. 

“You feel like I betrayed you,” is low and thick, Dick’s eyes a little dazed with what he picked up through the momentary connection, “it hurt you so much when I made Dami my Robin because I didn’t even talk to you, I didn’t trust you. You think I just threw you out of my life. How could I ever do that to you...?”

If Tim was a better Guide, on a higher dose of suppressants, he would have been able to keep himself closed off enough that if they did manage to touch, he could have kept Dick out of his shields, wouldn’t have given him the ability to skim over shitty emotions.

If Tim was a better Guide, he wouldn’t have the urgent need to run.

But welp, here they are.

As the thought takes shape in his brain pan, that he’s in his civilian day-ware and can run down the hall while Dick –still half in Nightwing– is trapped in the doorway, his knees firm and his eyes dart wildly to the side, giving himself away.

And since Dick was Batman, is Nightwing, is a Sentinel, he sees the writing on the wall and absolutely refuses to let it happen. Dick shoves with his arms, darts out into the hallway, makes his suddenly weak knees work enough to shake up Tim’s plan, seizes the apparent Guide, his Guide, in a princess hold and get back before the door even starts to close.

“Put me–!”

But Dick folds his legs to sit with his back against the door, and wraps both arms around the struggling third Robin. He can hold onto Tim better than a bolo anyway. 

The push at Tim’s shields is a pressure he isn’t used to dealing with, and it’s painful to fight against it rather than just let the tentative connection open. His hands curl into fists in his lap, trying to strain against the arms pinning him while concentrating on strengthening his shields. 

He doesn’t realize he’s whispering, “no, no, no,” under his breath. 

“Please,” Dick lays his forehead down on top of Timmy’s head, “please don’t go. Not now. I’m finally...Tim, I get it now. I swear, I get it.”

“...doesn’t matter. Too late.”

“That isn’t fair,” the smallest shift and Dick is breathing against his throat, making him shiver, “I just found out you’re...a Guide. My Guide. We haven’t even started yet. It can’t be too late if we haven’t had a beginning.” It gets worse when Dick breathes in his scent deeply, a noise coming out of his chest.

“We have had a beginning,” he bites out, fists tight, concentrating on keeping his shields strong but flexible, “we’ve had years–”

“And I’m not ready to throw all of that away.”

The pressure against his mental shields finally eases up as Dick raises his head, gives him a little shake to make him look up. 

“You already did, remember?”

“I didn’t... I never threw you away. That’s not what I meant or wanted. Yes, I should have handled things better. I know that now, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I was sorry before, I just didn’t know how to tell you, how to make it better between us.”

Tim’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t let up in case this is one of those diversionary tactics to put him in a false sense of security. 

(They fight bad guys. Sometimes, they have to cheat, and he wouldn’t put it past Dick to do just that.)

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen here,” he finally tries, staring up into those blue, blue eyes (I trusted you once, and fuck if I’m going to let you do this to me again). “But whatever it is, you’re wrong. I’m not going to come back to Gotham and be your Guide. I’m not going to bond with you because the universe says I’m meant to be some kind of magical counterbalance.”

Dick’s expression crumples, his arms go a little slack. 

“Tim, we’re...we’re a True–”

“I don’t give a fuck about True Pairs, Dick, not anymore. Babs has been your Guide since you both presented. She wants the job, she can damn well have it.”

It’s not a fight to push against Dick’s arms the second time and stand up out of his lap.

“You’ve loved me since the moment you put on the cape, Tim. I know you have.” When what he means is I know now.

“I loved you before that, you asshole, and you betrayed me. You don’t get that chance again.”

Turning away shouldn’t be this easy now that Dick knows the truth, but it is, and the very last parts of him still hoping, still craving, are just as easily–

–wiped out.

Dick’s eyes are watery when the door hisses and creaks upon opening, and it’s an automatic thing, reaching a hand up just expecting Tim to take it.

“Tim. Timmy, please.”

“Good-bye, Dick,” is already fading with rapidly retreating footsteps. At least he can keep some of his dignity because Dick will never know he falls the fuck apart as the elevator goes down.

**

Author’s notes:Here’s why I don’t like this: 1. I want to talk more about why Tim chose Shiva as the Sentinel to teach him how to be a good Guide. Like, I want to explore that dynamic more because I’ve never really had the time or space to write Shiva as we see her in Tim’s Robin run.2. I wanted to go more into the expanded senses of Sentinels and how to - hell, I dunno, make it seem to be a little closer to cannon maybe? Like point out some of Dick’s greatest escapes and be like part of that is due to his Sentinel power. 3. Dick says some shitty things, and I don’t give him any context. Like, at that point, he legit believes he did the right thing at the time, and look! Tim’s Red Robin so everyone wins! But yeah, once he got under those shields, the truth shakes him up. 4. I dunno, this au might not be for me. It doesn’t feel very different from some of my other angsty things I guess but meh. Who knows, I might fix it someday :D 

[dipifica]

but he did

day 2!!!!!! i love dippica week!!!!!! college au!!!!!! this one is sorta strange,(lots of talking) it was something i started a while ago and just recently finished up, but i think i like it just fine! enjoy!!

------

Dipper sipped the cheap beer from his red solo cup slowly. The stuff tasted terrible, but the buzz didn’t feel half bad. 

He eyed the party and saw not one familiar face. Well, that is to be expected at your first college party right? Mabel would be proud at him for just showing up, but he couldn’t help feel like he was the biggest loser here. He wished Fred would come by to check on him soon, one can only look at their phone so many times.

He couldn’t tell if Fred’s frat house was always this much of a shit hole, or if the party made it seem that way. Dipper didn’t see a place on the floor that wasn’t covered with a spilled drink, an empty cup, or someone failing to help their friend up. He wondered briefly what he was doing here, but quickly remembered his time in high school. No risks, no bold moves, and surely, no fun. He made a pact with himself that he would branch out, try new things, meet new people. If only he knew which person to start with. 

He felt someone push on his back, nearly knocking his skinny body over.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The girl apologized, trying desperately not to spill her own drink with her wobbling body.

“It’s all good.” Dipper quickly responded. He put his hands on her shoulders since she still couldn’t steady herself after a few long seconds. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay.” She said in a valley girl tone. “Are you always this much of a mom?”

“Are you always this unstable?” 

The girl gave a small smirk. “Only when I’m having a lot of fun. Unlike somebody here….mom.”

“I’m not a mom. I just don’t know anyone here.” He explained. 

“Rushing?” 

“My best friend is in the frat. He’s a sophomore and invited me, but now is no where to be found.” He sighed, sipping his drink. 

“I just think you need to loosen up a bit.” She slurred her words a little bit as she started to do a small dance which ended in a spin that toppled her over, causing Dipper to grab her again. “I’m fine, I’m fine!”

“Who did you come here with?” He asked. “They should take you home.” He didn’t like the creepy looks on some of these guys’ faces and surely being this wasted in front of a stranger would make anyone embarrassed. He knows he would be.

“What if I told you I came alone too?” She tried.

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Okay, I came with some Dearhreart girls but I don’t really know any of them…” 

“Dearhreart the dorm? That’s where you live?” 

“Yep…” The girl looked pale quick. “I need to go…find a bathroom…” 

—-

“Do you remember your name?” He asked the girl now riding on his back. 

“Yes, I remember my name, I’m drunk not an idiot…” She muttered. “Pacifica.”

“Pacifica. Okay.” He trudged up the hill. “I’m Dipper.”

“Ugh, I cannot believe I threw up in the kitchen sink like that. My head is spinning…” 

“Well, you should drink some water when I get you back to your room.” He scolded. 

“Okay, mom.” 

“I’m not a mom.”

—-

“Can I check him into room 256 please?” Pacifica tried her best to act nonchalant with the woman working the front desk. When she gave the go ahead, she hopped back on Dipper’s back as he thanked the woman.

“Don’t fall asleep.” He called.

“I’m not gonna.” She muttered.

—-

She had. 

He woke her up by setting her down on her bed. He noticed she didn’t have a roommate. He saw her water bottle sitting on her desk and tried to hand it to her.

“Drink some before you go to bed.” 

She did and pointed at her extra blanket to signal that she wanted it. He handed it over. “Thanks.” She yawned. Dipper looked around her room. She had a lot of fancy decorations and gear, her TV was probably as big as the one at his parents’ house. 

“Woah!” He covered his eyes. “When did you take your shirt off?”

“Geez, I’m still wearing a bra, don’t freak out…I’m changing into my PJ’s. Better close your eyes so your innocence isn’t taken from you.” She laughed lightly. He did so, and he heard the snap of her bra coming off and the rustling of her T-shirt coming on. 

“Can I look?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She said in-between sips of water. 

“Okay, so you look like you are in pretty okay shape so I’m just gonna-“

“Can you make me some food?” She moaned. 

“Seriously?” He deadpanned. She smiled a sweet smile at him. “Am I the first stranger to put you to bed like this?”

“Yes, probably the first of many. Can you get me some Advil too? Top drawer.” He threw the bottle at her.

“Easy Mac or ramen?” 

“Easy Mac is good. Thank you, Dipper.” 

He was annoyed at how his heart beamed when she said his name. He put in one for himself too.

—-

“Bio major, huh?” He took a final bite of his very late dinner. “What’s the dream?”

“Doctor, I guess. I haven’t completely figured it out. And journalism?”

“Investigative, for now. I like to write.” He smiled lightly.

“I like to read.” She smiled back at him. 

“Paz!!” The door trust open and 4 girls yelled at the door. “We looked everywhere for-Oh!!!” The girls eyed both of them and giggled. “Sorry to interrupt!” The girls shut the door and cracked up. 

“Is that how I was a few hours ago?” She cringed.

“Sadly.” He replied.

—-

On hour three together, Dipper put his head down on her futon. She shoved a decorative pillow at him and he accepted graciously. “I’m not sleeping here, just resting my eyes.”

“I know.” She nodded.”You can leave the door unlocked in the morning, I don’t mind.”

“…Okay.” He breathed and drifted off shortly after.

—

Pacifica woke up still feeling her hangover that began last night. She was alone, and noticed how her futon looked perfect, as if no one was there in the first place. She sighed and realized the headache wasn’t going to let her fall back asleep so waking up at 8am on a Saturday it is.

Right as her feet touched the ground, her door opened and revealed her savior from last night. “Thought you left.” She said, sleepily.

“I figured you would need breakfast to ensure you are, y’know, alive.” He replied and lifted up a box of donuts and two coffees. “I just got regular, hope that’s fine.”

She couldn’t help the smile on her face. “You’re weird.”

“That’s what you say to a stranger that bought you breakfast? Get some manners.” He sighed.

“You are hardly a stranger now. I think it’s safe to call us acquaintances, maybe I’ll even be bold and say we are friends.”

“I don’t know about-“

“You prefer buddies? Pals? Chums? Bestie-?“

“Fine, we’re friends.” He set the box down on the floor since she didn’t have a big enough table. They sat down across from each other on her floor. He eyed her staring lovingly at him. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I grew up with a very compassionate sibling. It rubbed off on me.”

“Whatever, we’re friends.” She beamed. “You caaaare about my well being.” She sang. 

He rolled his eyes. “You make it hard to like you.” He found himself smiling. Her smile was fatal for him, he knew he was done for. 

“Hm, but you do.” She took a bite of a chocolate donut.

But he did.

[football15-7fics]

Little Princess || Chapter 7 Part 2

September 6, 2017

It took quite some time to realize that Adrianna wasn't in her own bed.  Even though the bed she was lying in was absolutely comfortable.   As she rubbed her heavy eyes, a sharp pain reached out her hand.  She came to realize that an intravenous needle connected to a solution bag was inserted in his hand vein.

"What the hell…" Adrianna mumbled weakly.  She tried to get herself in a more comfortable lying position but her muscles refused to work.  Her whole body cried out with pain as if she had played an American Football match game. The headache was terrible, she felt like  hundreds of knives in the brain were being striking with each other.

"Damn…" She spoke to herself when she recognized Clair, sitting on the white sofa with her eyes glued to her phone screen.

"Claire…" Adrianna could barely pronounce.

"Oh gosh, baby, you woke up!!" Claire's focus immediately broke off from the phone screen in favor of her bestie.  

"What happened?" Adrianna asked again, rubbing her lazy eyes.

"You don't remember?" An astonished Claire asked back.

"No!" Adrianna shook her head negatively.

"Ok, so your party was doing great, we were having so much fun, you walked upstairs then we found you collapsed unconsciously on the floor, we called immediately an ambulance that brought you here at the clinic!"

"Do you mean I was unconscious on the floor, this explains my terrible headache… Is dad or mum here?"

"Your parents were the first that got informed, they spent the night with you, both fell asleep on this comfortable sofa I sat before you woke up." Claire smiled.

"But where are they?"

"They went home to bring you back personal stuff you might need!"

"Okay… I feel like my body was punched everywhere!!"

"The doctor should visit you soon!"

"So what is wrong?, am I sick?"

"Let's wait for your doctor to visit you…!" Gentle knocks on the door interrupted Claire's conversation.  "Yes come in!"

"Hello girls, may I come in?" A blue eyed tall man with grey hair walked inside the room.

"Miss Braün, feeling any better!" He asked his fingers typed on his iPad screen having a check on Adrianna's daughter.

"I don't know Doctor, I feel weak and dizzy."

"This will get better in a few days."

"Doctor, am I sick, or something close to, I'm worried!"

"We had you on several batteries of blood tests, your haemoglobin level is very very low and there is a severe magnesium deficiency detected as well."

"Is it the reason why I'm feeling like death?"

"Yes, severe hemoglobin and magnesium deficiency can cause severe sickness symptoms!"

"Puking like it'll never stop as well, Doctor please tell me what is wrong with me!" Adrianna asked with a loss of patience.

"No Miss Braün, pregnancy is not a sickness, you'll get better in your second month!" The doctor replied with a smile.  Announcing pregnancies was always some good news for them.

"What…" All she heard was the word pregnancy, playing at an infernal speed in her brain.  Her jaw opened, Adrianna couldn't breath, she felt her chest suppressed like.

"Yes, you're about 6-7 weeks pregnant!"

Both Adrianna and Claire stared at each other with a bewildered face expression.

"It's impossible, I'm having irregular cycles and oestrogen imbalance!!!"

"Irregular cycles doesn't mean you can't get pregnant, I know it sounds unusual and seems impossible, but I witnessed many common cases, women have irregular cycles get pregnant!"

A mute silence oppressed the medical bedroom.  The doctor noticed a negative reaction from his patient, he could sense Adrianna wasn't thrilled about her pregnancy.

"Miss, are you okay?"

"I'm just… shocked!"

"I understand, but now we found out the reason of your sickness, we'll get you on pregnancy treatment as of today, you gonna have to be cautious during the two next months, with your imbalanced hormone issue, it can result in a miscarriage, you'll need plenty of rest and avoid any stressful sources!! We are keeping you under observation for the next three days…."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes, it's the protocol for your condition!"

"I'm asking you a favor, don't tell anything to my parents!!"

"Okay, other patients are on my visit list, I'll come back later to discuss the treatment you'll need!" The doctor said  as he left the bedroom.

"OMG… this is the worst shit that could have happened!!" Adrianna wailed in distress.

"Adri… I don't know what to tell you, I'm shocked just like you!"

"What am I going to do for fuck sake!"  She stormed out as tears of anger flowed down her face.

"Don't cry Adri please…"

"Those are tears of anger, no time for sadness here!"

"I guess Jadon is the baby's dad!!"

"What you thinking, that I sleep with a different guy every night, I'm no slut!!!" Adrianna leashed.

"I never ever thought you were a slut sweetie!"

"I know, just forget it I'm not myself at the moment!!! I just pray that this is a nightmare and I'll wake up soon!"

"That's the reality baby!"

"That night in London was so fucking cursed from the very start!!! What did I do to deserve this!!" Adrianna cried with hot tears.

"Cursed, why, it wasn't cursed in any way Adri, it just happened because it had to!!!"

"My doctor said that there were very few chances that I could get pregnant ever because of this matter and I was already mentally prepared for that to have a childless life, and it was perfect for me because I never wanted to have a baby or whatsoever, but now… It's a collateral issue!"

"Please calm down Adri, you're hurting yourself!!

"No… I can't have this baby!!"

"Wait, what do you mean by not having this baby!" Claire frowned her eyes perplexed.

"You know what I mean okay!!!"

"Adrianna, it's a baby, he's innocent and you can't put the blame on him!"

"I don't care Claire, I'm not having it!"

"Damn, have you lost your mind girl, I know you're weak and shocked, but this… It's horrible if you're gonna get through what I think of!!!"

"Just try to see from my perspective, I'm 29, Jadon is 17, don't you see the problem, there is that and I don't want to be a mom!!!"

"Adrianna, I love you, you're my sister, but I won't be part of that thing you have to do!"

"You're free to leave Claire, just go, I want to be alone." Adrianna pouted, unable to look at her friend's face.

"Ok, I'll leave you alone, you need rest and sleep, I'll come back tomorrow!"

"No, no need to come back if you're going to point at me with a judging finger because I don't want to have this baby!"

"Ok as you wish girl!" Claire said, collecting her stuff and left the medical bedroom with her eyes drowned in tears.