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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

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All Men Have Limits - VIII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,600+

Warning: Mention of sexual assault

Previously on…

“Going along with this plan seems rather unlike you,” Tim finally pointed out to Bruce.

It was the two younger boys and Bruce sitting in the cave.

“Without her help, we would have never been able to get the evidence we need to take down The Court of Owls,” Bruce sighed as he looked up at the screens.

“Yeah, but like you said before, we never use our own as bait,” Tim countered.

“Y/N knows what she’s doing.”

Tim and Damian shared a look.

“Are you certain things have not gone too personal, father?” Damian finally asked.

The personal question finally forced Bruce to tear his eyes away from the screens and look at his son.

His gaze shifted between Tim and Damian. From their looks alone, Bruce realized that his feelings towards Y/N were not as subtle and secret as he wanted.

But Bruce knew better than to answer Damian.

The boy had never been invested in his father’s personal relationships before. Why did he have to start now? And with Y/N?

“What happens if things go south?” Tim challenged.

But Damian answered for his father. “You know he has a plan B and C, Drake. He always does, even if he doesn’t share it.”

Bruce was not about to have a conversation about his love and sex life with his two youngest sons. So, he thought of something to escape and he thought of it fast.

He stood up quickly and faced them. “Mandatory family dinner. Tonight.”

“What!?” Damian screamed in outrage.

“I don’t want to,” Tim whined like a baby, even though he was very much a young man standing at the ripe age of 19.

“Mandatory,” Bruce repeated solidly before leaving the cave.

Damian and Tim shared a look.

“This is your fault,” Tim accused.

“How is it my fault?”

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut about the sexual tension we’re all choking on in this damn mansion!”

“But you don’t disagree. You’ve noticed it as well.”

“I was a little late to the game, but yes,” Tim admitted.

“She’s not like the other ones,” Damian muttered so quietly that Tim almost missed it.

“No, she’s not,” Tim confirmed.

——————

Bruce was slightly surprised to find Y/N sitting at the outdoor pool, reading a book.

She wasn’t in a bathing suit – just shorts and a t-shirt.

Bruce walked over with his hands in the pocket of his slacks.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think that you’re starting to like it here.”

She looked up from her book with a smirk. “For the record, I still think we should ‘eat the rich.’”

Bruce smirked. “Right. Of course.”

Y/N eyed him. “Did you need something?”

“Are you sure about this?”

Of course he was coming to try and talk her out of the plan once again.

“Bruce, I’m not changing my mind.”

“Figured you would say that.”

Y/N could see his mind racing. It was obvious he hadn’t stopped thinking about everything that could wrong with. Bruce needed control. And even if he was going into an inevitably dangerous situation, he always had multiple plans to get out alive. Y/N’s involvement made it harder for him to do that.

“Careful,” she warned him playfully, “It’s starting to look like you’re worried about me.”

“I am,” he retorted.

Her amusement vanished. “I didn’t think you worried. Or got scared.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you had realized by now that both of those things happen when you’re involved.”

She didn’t know how to respond that. She really didn’t.

“I also came out here to tell you we’re having a family dinner tonight.” Yes, Dick and Tim were basically living at the manor while they handled this specific case. But it was rare that the whole family ate together. All the boys would come back from patrol at different times. Alfred usually made something and put each of their meals in the oven or fridge for when they got back.

But Bruce made a habit of having mandatory family dinners. They weren’t frequent. And the boys often viewed them as some sort of punishment. But Bruce saw it as a way to remind them all that they were a family. A chaotic and a strange one, but they were still a family.

“It would be nice if you could join us,” Bruce added politely.

Y/N smiled at how obvious it was that he was choosing his words carefully. “It was really hard for you to not me tell what to do, wasn’t it?”

He narrowed his gaze at her from being caught.

She never seemed to miss an opportunity to tease him.

“Yes. I’ll join you.”

Bruce nodded, clearly pleased with her answer.

“Will you miss it?” Bruce surprised her by asking as he looked around at the exterior of the manor, looking almost lost in thought.

“It’s a home,” Y/N sighed. “And even with all the secrets and dark pasts, it’s still filled with happy memories, too. And a family.”

Then she smirked. “Even if it’s a highly dysfunctional one,” she added teasingly.

“Not sure all the boys would agree with you on that.”

“Are you sure about that?” Y/N challenged.

———————

Y/N walked out of her bedroom right as Dick was dragging Damian down the hallway.

“Come on. It’s never as bad as you think it’s gonna be,” Dick tried to tell the boy.

“Why did Todd come? He never comes to family dinner. He doesn’t even see us as his family.”

Dick smirked. “You and I both know that’s not true, no matter how many times he tries to convince everyone – even himself.”

Then both of them noticed Y/N’s presence in the hallway.

“You look pretty,” Dick complimented.

Y/N looked down at her outfit and shrugged. “Figured I could make a bit more of an effort.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Damian huffed before leaving the two of them behind.

Y/N and Dick both laughed lightly at his attitude.

“I’ve never told you how good you are with him,” she thought aloud.

“I don’t know about that…”

Y/N turned to him with an insistent look. “You are. Sometimes I think he listens to you more than Bruce. He looks up to you. I think it’s because…” her words die out.

“What? What you were going to say?”

Y/N still hesitated, but told him anyway. “I think it’s because you’re more available to him…emotionally, I mean.”

“Sometimes I feel like I have to talk to him the same way I do with Bruce. He’s a younger carbon copy of the guy. Just brattier.” Dick sighed. “Deep down, Damian has a good heart and he cares deeply about the people in his life. He’ll just never admit it.”

Y/N nodded.

It did sound like Bruce.

But Y/N never considered Dick would have a similar impact on Bruce that he also had with Damian. She wondered what Bruce would be like today if he had never taken in an orphaned Richard Grayson.

Sometimes Y/N believed Bruce would be completely devoid of any and all emotions if it hadn’t been for an adolescent Dick. His needs and wants as a child had prevented Bruce from turning completely into a callous vigilante with nothing tying him to his own humanity and life.

Y/N was about to continue her walk to the dining room, but Dick softly grabbed her arm.

“Hey, before we walking into the chaos…” Dick cleared his throat. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay after the other night.” He shifted his weight and looked at the ground. “If I was too forward or I misread something or–”

“Dick?” Y/N interrupted with a smug look.

His head shot up to look at her. “Yeah?”

She had a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Then she moved into Dick’s space, closing the distance between their bodies and did not stop until they could feel each other’s body heat.

Y/N tipped her head as if she was about to kiss him.

But her lips stopped just a centimeter or two from his.

Dick’s eyes turned menacing once he realized she was messing with him.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered seductively, “we’re okay.”

Then she slipped away quickly and started walking away without him.

“That was cruel!” Dick called after her.

But her only response was her laugher from down the hall.

Dick shook his head, but couldn’t stop his smiling.

Maybe it was avoidance or a distraction from the reality of their relationship. But Y/N couldn’t deny that it was also fun.

—

Dinner was in the formal dining room of the manor. This was the first time Y/N had even stepped foot in the room. The fireplace was even lit. Even when Wayne Manor was hardly trying, it reminded Y/N how out of place she was. “If I have to sit through this bullshit, you’re sitting next to me,” Jason said from behind Y/N, making her jump.

To her horror, Jason pulled out a seat at the head of the table. Two at each end and then two chairs in the middle on both sides.

“Oh, I don’t think–” Y/N stuttered out in panic.

“You’re the guest,” Jason cut her off and gently pushed in the chair when he finally got her to sit.

Damian was already sitting to the right, closer to the other head of the table– probably to be closer to his father.

Jason sat down to the left of Y/N. And when Dick finally caught up to her, he didn’t question Y/N sitting at the head and sat to the right of her.

“Perfect. You’re like our future step mom,” Jason declared.

Damian snickered, despite hating to laugh at Jason’s joke.

But Y/N looked horrified. She was about to jump up and take the remaining middle seat on the other side of Jason. But Tim’s timing was absolutely horrendous.

“Please switch spots with me,” Y/N leaned forward and hissed at Dick.

He smirked. “Absolutely not.”

When he saw her obvious panic, he leaned forward as well and whispered, “That’s payback for earlier.”

Y/N glared at him and huffed.

“Oh, I’m so glad I came,” Jason sighed.

Bruce walked into the room with his head held high. “Tim, no phones. You know better.”

Tim sighed in annoyance but slipped his phone into his back pocket.

Dick leaned to Y/N. “Bruce has a strict ‘no electronics’ rule for family dinners. Phones are forbidden.”

Y/N nodded, even though she would never be so rude as to bring a phone to dinner, especially when she was a guest and this was a literal “manor.”

Somehow Jason had pulled a bottle of red wine from nowhere. Or maybe it had been sitting on the table and Y/N had just missed it.

And Jason had already grabbed Y/N’s glass and gave her a heavy pour. “But drinking is highly encouraged,” he added with a crooked smile.

Y/N barely let him finish pouring before she grabbed the wine and chugged.

When she put the glass back down, Bruce was watching her carefully. She at least had enough shame to sink lower in her chair and give him an apologetic look.

But Bruce was amused more than anything.

He’d never brought a woman to a family dinner like this. And though the situation was not that straightforward, it was still causing him a weird amount of anxiety.

“How are your lessons going, Damian?” Bruce broke the tension with the question.

Damian muttered off what sounded like rehearsed and generic statements about his personal studies.

“I didn’t even know he went to school,” Y/N muttered to Dick as Damian and Bruce talked.

“He doesn’t. He’s technically homeschooled,” Jason answered first. “Which is total bullshit seeing as all of us were forced to go to Gotham Academy with all the spoiled brats of the city.”

“As if it mattered, you died before you were forced to graduate from the stupid establishment,” Damian commented darkly.

Jason beamed and laughed lightly at the comment.

But Dick, Tim, and Y/N all froze and looked to Bruce.

They all knew it was a sensitive topic.

Bruce was clearly trying his hardest not to scold them all night. So he just took in a deep, shaky breath.

“Why get your GED or drop out of high school when you can just get murdered?” Jason offered with enthusiasm.

“Jason,” Y/N warned lowly when she saw the pained look on Bruce’s face that he was trying so hard to hide.

Jason’s death still haunted Bruce and riddled him with guilt – despite the miracle of him being resurrected. Y/N probably knew that more than any of the boys. Maybe only Dick really shared that understanding.

“You’re right,” Jason agreed. “Tonight’s not about me. You’re the guest, Y/N. Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the words got caught in her throat when she felt everyone’s eyes on her.

This was not how she imagined tonight going.

But Alfred – her savior – interrupted with the first course of soup and salad.

Everyone was momentarily distracted with the food.

Y/N hoped it stayed that way.

“Who taught you how to hack?” Damian piped up.

Y/N relaxed at that particular question. “No one. I taught myself.”

“Where’s your family?” Tim asked innocently.

Y/N flipped through all the possible lies she could tell, deciding to go with the one that would lead to the least amount of follow-up questions. And it wasn’t a lie at all.

“We’re estranged,” Y/N mumbled without looking up from her food.

“Parents are overrated,” Jason commented with a smirk.

Dick and Bruce glared at him.

However, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with Jason.

Little did she know that Jason could relate to her upbringing far more than anyone else at the table. Their childhood’s were parallel. Ones neither of them deserved.

Tim instantly felt guilty for asking an uncomfortable question without realizing it.

“Y/N is not here to be interrogated,” Bruce warned the table.

“Well, why don’t you tell us about her, B?” Jason answered. “How exactly did you two meet again?”

Bruce narrowed his gaze. He knew what game this was. The more emotion and reaction he showed, the more it would encourage Jason to continue with such antics. “We worked on a case together a couple years ago,” was all Bruce supplied.

“More like she threatened you into working with her,” Dick mumbled as he tried to hide his smirk by licking his lips.

Y/N kicked him under the table.

“So, Y/N, have you always had a thing for older men?” Jason asked.

She gave him a death glare.

“Jason, come on.” Dick cautioned.

“I mean, you of all people should be curious, Dickie.”

Everyone went quiet.

Jason rolled his eyes and looked around the table. “Oh. Are we all pretending there’s not a weird love triangle going on?”

“I didn’t realize my sex life was up for discussion tonight,” Y/N mumbled.

But it wasn’t just sex was it?

“Why don’t we all go around the table and share!?” Jason suggested loudly. “Dick, you first. What’s your number?”

“Jason that is enough.” Bruce grunted.

But Y/N had it with Jason’s pot stirring and she wasn’t going to let Bruce fight her battles for her.

She snapped her head in Jason’s direction. “I hope you don’t have a sex tape laying around, because I will sell that shit to PornHub faster than you can jerk off,” she threatened.

The words slipped out of Y/N’s mouth so quickly that she had momentarily forgotten that a literal child was also sitting at the dinner table.

Her hand slammed over her mouth and her eyes widened in shock.

Jason threw his head back with laughter. This was exactly the chaos he was trying to start.

Her eyes whipped to Damian with horror as she blurted out, “I am so sorry!"

“Please, I know what fornication is,” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m not so innocent. After all, I was conceived from my mother drugging my father and forcing coitus onto him.”

“I also slept with said mother,” Jason chimed in.

Tim made a disgusted gag noise.

Dick rubbed his face in exhaustion. Y/N’s jaw dropped at this new information.

But when she looked to Bruce, he wouldn’t meet her stare, only further proving it was all true.

This was no laughing matter.

Yet the whole family seemed desensitized by the subject.

Y/N was processing that Bruce had gone through such an assault – and by the mother of his only biological son, nonetheless. “Can Jonathan come over soon for a sleepover, father?” Damian suddenly asked.

The subject change was like whiplash on the entire table.

Y/N couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t just move past what she found out like that.

“I don’t see why not,” Bruce answered.

Clearly he was grateful for his son’s short attention span and his inability to read the room and realize he’d said something entirely inappropriate for the situation.

But Y/N could also see the subtle happiness in Bruce’s eyes from his son asking him such a question. And for that split second, this felt like a normal family.

“Who’s Jonathan?” Y/N asked Dick quietly.

She was trying to follow Bruce’s lead and move on.

“Superman’s son,” Dick provided.

“And literally Damian’s only friend,” Jason added.

“I heard that!” Damian shouted.

“I meant you to!”

“Put that knife down, Damian.” Bruce warned. “What have I told you?”

Damian lowered his head in shame. “The knives at the dinner table are for eating, and are not to be used as weapons under any circumstance.”

The table suddenly erupted into various conversations. Tim started talking Wayne Enterprises business with Bruce. Damian and Jason were shooting insults at each other. Alfred brought in another course.

Dick and Y/N shared a moment.

She sighed, realizing that the worst of it was probably over now.

‘Sorry,’ Dick mouthed to her.

‘It’s OK,’ she mouthed back.

The dinner continue with filet mignon, roasted garlic mashed potatoes, mushroom bordelaise, and – thankfully – more wine.

Maybe Jason had helped them all in a way by airing out all their dirty laundry immediately and getting it over with so they could move on.

But as Y/N looked around the table, listening to the boys and Bruce talk, she realized that maybe – just maybe – she didn’t want to leave.

—

Alfred put all the boys to work cleaning the dishes after dinner.

But he refused to allow Y/N to help. Once a guest always a guest.

Alfred handed Y/N a fresh glass of wine and told her to wait in the drawing room and that he’d bring dessert within the hour.

Y/N knew better than to argue with him and did as she was told.

There was a roaring fire in the room, pulling her to it.

“Please don’t take anything Jason said personally,” Bruce said from behind her.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh and shook her head. “He loves to start drama. That’s for fucking sure.”

“He’s constantly trying to get back at me. You weren’t his target. I was. But I apologize that you were caught in the crossfire.”

She turned away from the fireplace to face him.

Her eyes were heartbroken and worried.

“You never told me about…” she hesitated, “about Damian’s mother. I-I had no idea.”

“I try not to speak of it. No matter what happened in the past, Talia is still Damian’s mother.”

“But she still–”

“I’m fine,” Bruce cut her off. “Really, Y/N. I came to terms with it long ago.”

He was irritated, but too preoccupied with comforting Y/N to face the dark truth of how Damian was conceived.

“Well, if you need to ta–”

“I know, Y/N. Thank you.”

Their moment was interrupted by the boys trampling in the drawing room.

Dick had Damian thrown over his shoulder as the boy screamed insults at both Tim and Jason. Clearly Dick was preventing a full-on brawl from errupting.

The bickering and teasing continued but wasn’t anywhere near as awkward or stressful as it was at dinner. Perhaps all the glasses of wine Y/N had were helping with that. She decided to simply sit back and watch the Wayne family.

Eventually it hit Damian’s bed time. Bruce insisted on tucking his son into bed.

Jason took their leave as his cue to leave the manor.

Tim went up to his own room. Except they all knew it wasn’t to sleep, but to get back to work and not stop until he was utterly exhausted.

The drawing room turned relaxing as Dick and Y/N were the only two who remained.

“You survived,” Dick pointed out with a chuckle.

“I did,” Y/N answered with a light laugh.

Dick let a moment pass before he asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents?”

She sighed, knowing Dick was going to bring this up at some point.

“Because I don’t tell anyone about them.”

“You told Bruce,” he countered.

Her brow furrowed. “And how do you know that?”

Dick at least looked guilty for answering, “He told me.”

She glared at him. “So is that what you two do now? You talk about me with each other? Swap notes?”

“Course not. But don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical getting mad about it?”

“Hypocritical?” She shot back.

“Yeah, hypocritical. You did a background check on every single member of this family. You know my entire past. You know every woman I’ve been connected to in my life. But the moment I know something about you, it’s not OK?”

“As if you wouldn’t offer that info freely if I asked…”

“That’s exactly my point, Y/N.” Dick sounded exasperated. “I’m trying to get to know you. I’m really trying. But now I know you’ve done it before. So I’m asking you to trust me enough to do it again.”

“It’s not that simple,” Y/N mumbled before walking out of the room.

Dick let out a groan of frustration and rubbed his face.

That definitely could’ve gone better.

But Y/N’s night wasn’t free of the Wayne men yet.

Just before reaching her bedroom door, Bruce crossed her path.

“Hey!” She snapped at him. “My past isn’t something for you to announce to whoever the fuck you want.”

“Y/N, that’s–”

“Save it,” Y/N snapped before he could get a word in. “Whatever broody and cryptic bullshit you’re about to spew…just…save it, k?”

And with that, Y/N slammed her bedroom door shut.

---------------------

Part 9

A/N: I know a lot of people really hate the Talia/Bruce sexual assualt storyline. But that was the version of Damian’s conception that I was most familiar with. I didn’t want to make light of it, because we all know male victims of sexual assault are not taken seriously – and that’s fucked up. But I also didn’t want to linger on it too long since it’s such a disliked plot point

Let me know what you thought of this chapter!!! Pretty, pretty please. 😔

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 8 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne reader insert #bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #dick Grayson x reader x Bruce Wayne #batfam #batboys #batman x reader #nightwing x reader

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squishneedsahero · 3 years

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Borrowed Tires

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 7 of 13

Word Count: 1502

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

"Hello," You say to the small teenager that had returned with your husband from patrol.

"Hi," he says crossing his arms and sounding grumpy, but to you is obviously uncomfortable.

"I'm (y/n)," you say trying to help him feel more comfortable, you also pull the hood of your sweatshirt down so he can see your face. He's in the bat cave and there's a reason for that, you don't know what it is yet but you don't subscribe to your husband's level of secrecy when it comes kids and making sure they're welcomed.

His eyes go wide, "y-you're y/n l/n."

"Yep, that's me," you reply and offer him a gentle smile.

"You wrote those books!" He says excitedlypw.

"Yeah, I did," you say smiling at the boy then at your husband. "May I ask what your name is?"

"Jason," he says, sounding less closed off now.

"That's a nice name," you smile, "so, can I ask what brings you to Batman's lair?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

Jason's demeanor changes and he shuffles on his feet before quietly saying, "I was trying to steal his tires... he didn't like that."

You laugh gently, "well, that's rude of him to make you come back here just for trying to take his tires." You pause for a moment before asking, "you want to go upstairs? I'm sure could find something to eat and maybe you can tell me what your plans were for those tires so we can get you your own," you say with a raise of an eyebrow.

"Oh, uh- I don't really need tires," he shuffles again.

"Okay, you don't need to tell me why you wanted them," you say, offering him another smile before turning to Bruce, "You go change Bruce, then meet us in the kitchen," you say heading towards the stairs.

"Wait! Bruce Wayne is Batman?!" Jason says following you, maybe a little more relaxed.

"Who else did you think it could be? Or did you think I was having an affair with Batman?" You joke yet again and hear a slight laugh from behind you, you don't turn around as you can imagine the way Bruce is shaking his head behind you.

He pauses for a moment, trying to come up with an answer for you, "uh... I hadn't really thought about it. I was busy being scared cause I tried to steal Batman's tires and he kidnapped me."

You laugh once again, "I suppose that's logical reasoning." The two of you come to a stop in the kitchen doorway, "you're welcome to anything you can find that sounds good. And if you want I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind fixing something."

"Uh," He looks in awe at the size of the kitchen.

When he pauses you make a shooing motion with your hands before going to sit at the counter. You watch him move off to look through the fridge and cupboards as you say, "I'm assuming you'll want to spend the night here Jason?"

"Really?!"

"Really really, I'll make sure we have a room set up for you with a nice warm shower waiting for you." You pause just for Alfred to walk in.

"Hello Mrs.Wayne," he didn't question you being in here at odd hours anymore.

"Hi, Alfred," you say turning to look at him. He almost says something then he spots the small boy moving through the kitchen, with his arms full of different snacks and a cookie hanging out of his mouth. "Alfred this is Jason. Jason Alfred," you introduce them, gaining a look from Alfred, and Jason waves. "Bruce brought him home tonight after he found Jason trying to borrow his tires."

Alfred just nods before looking at Jason again, and then he pauses for another moment, "master Jason I apologize, but I am going to have to object to your choice in food." He moves over and takes some of the things out of a confused Jason's arms, "what sounds good? I will fix you a meal."

Jason pauses and looks at you.

"Jason, if you remember anything from tonight, remember the fact that Alfred finds the idea of junk food impossible to handle. If you want to eat junk don't let him catch you," you say with a laugh and teasing smile as you get up and take the rest of the food from Jason's arms.

When you return from putting stuff away Bruce is standing in the doorway watching Jason quietly talk to Alfred and figure out something to eat. You move to his side and put your arms around him, joining him in watching. "So?" You ask, knowing he has reason behind why he brought the kid back here.

"He was stealing my tires. Probably wanted to sell them," he says softly, "he said he doesn't have anyone, I've seen him around a few other times, thought he was just sneaking out at night," Bruce pauses for another moment before getting to the point of all of this, "I just thought, it's been quiet here since Dick moved out..."

You remain quiet as Bruce pulls you against his side, "yeah, it has been quiet since Dick moved to Bludhaven... did you get tired of the quiet?" You ask with a slightly teasing tone, unable to keep everything serious.

"Yeah," Bruce says, knowing you know what he is thinking.

"If he wants to stay, he's welcome too, I've always told you that. There's so many kids out there that need somewhere good to call home and I'd take them all if I could."

"I know, and I love you for that," Bruce says gently, pressing a kiss into the side of your head.

You step away from him and go back over to Jason and Alfred, "hey Jason, how about we go get you cleaned up while Alfred gets the food going?"

You ask and nod over your shoulder for Jason to follow, "uh- okay," he says somewhat hesitantly, noticing the more serious tone to your voice.

Bruce pulls you into a quick kiss before saying, "I'm going to go make sure everything is finished up, then I'll be back."

"Sounds good," you say kissing him once more for good measure before heading off with Jason. The manor had many wings to it, but for the most part you all lived in just one of them. The door to Dick's old room is closed and you walk right past it and into the next room down.

Once in the room you turn to Jason and just say, "you can stay here... just for tonight if you want, if you want to stay longer you're welcome too, I just don't want you being out on the streets alone, alright?"

"U-uh, alright..." he says somewhat hesitantly.

You move towards him, "Jason, I want you to listen and know that I'm completely serious, if you want to just stay the night you can. If you decide you want to stay longer you can do that as well. Our son moved out a few months ago and there's plenty of room. You think about it and hop in the shower, I'll go grab some of Dick's clothes so you can find something clean to wear."

You ruffle his hair and turn to leave only to be stopped by two arms grabbing you in a hug. You turn and face Jason who had grabbed you, wrapping him in your arms as well, just for him to ask, "you'd really want me?"

The way he asks breaks your heart. "Yes, everyone needs somebody and somewhere. This can be your somewhere and I'll be your somebody."

"I think I'd like that," he says gently and you squeeze him a little tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"Okay, kiddo, I'll go tell Bruce, you get cleaned up, and then we'll get you fed."

Jason turns his head so you can't see his face well, but he nods as he rubs at his cheek, "alright."

With that you close the door behind you and head back to the kitchen. Alfred is cooking and Bruce has returned from is final check through, making sure everything was set for the night.

You head towards him, ready to wrap your arms around him but he doesn't give you much of a choice as he scoops you up into his arms and holds you tightly against him. You tilt your head back and look up at him, "Jason said he'd like to stay... he was so surprised that anyone would want him."

Bruce kisses you, "well we do. We always will as long as he wants to be wanted."

"I love you," you say gently.

"I love you as well."

"We'll have to be careful to not scare him off, he hasn't had much love given to him in his life, but as soon as he is ready we will be sure to fix that. I'm sure Dick would love to have a little brother..."

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #batfam #batfam x you #batfam x batmom #batfam x y/n #batfam x reader #Batman #batman x you #batmom #batmom reader #batman x batmom #batman x batmom!reader

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elareine · 4 years

Note

the song better place by rachel platten and jay/dick or maybe just some jay-centric bat fam. hope this prompt works for you. love your fics <3

Thank you <3 That’s a very JayDick song, but I love writing batfam, too, so... have both.

Steph took one look at Jason’s old-new room and pronounced: “You need to redecorate.”

“No shit.”

“Let’s go.”

Which was how Jason found himself in Ikea of all places. She even dragged a flustered-looking Tim with her, who proved to be supremely unhelpful when it came to curtain color (“I don’t think either red or purple will look good with those walls,” bullshit) but very willing to hand over his credit card. It was… fun. The room felt less like a tomb when Steph was done with it, which was great.

He told her that.

“Well, duh.” She grinned. “No one in this house knows how to decorate for shit. You should see what Tim did with his bedroom…”

Jason spent a minute considering his options. “Anime girls?”

“Nope.”

“Superman posters.”

“Nope, but I like the way you’re thinking.”

“Bad Picasso replicas.”

“Nooo,”

“I give up.”

“He did…” Steph paused dramatically. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. It still looks like it did in the eighties.”

Jason laughed, and she looked gratified. “Sounds terrible.”

They kept working on the bookshelf. Ikea was great for those; that’s why they went there in the first place. Well, that and the look on Bruce’s face when he saw the boxes.

After a minute, Jason asked: “So… are you seeing a lot of Tim’s bedroom, then?”

“Yeah. So what?” She glared at him, which he was starting to realize was a sure sign that she was embarrassed.

“So nothing. Didn’t know that was happening again, that’s all.”

It took her a minute, but she softened. “Yeah. I… guess we’re giving it a second chance.”

“That’s cool,” he told her sincerely. “I mean, you could clearly do better, but he damn well knows what he’s got now.”

“Hmm.” Steph was hiding behind the shelf she was holding up, but he could still tell she was pleased. “So how about your own second chance, huh?”

…damn, he’d walked right into that one. “Shut up.”

—

“Home invasion in sector 6R. Three 1Cs, suspected armed. Neighbors reporting shots, five people in the house. Hood, you’re closest.”

Jason had already changed course. “I’m on it.”

He waited—this was the point where Batman would send a Robin or two after him, maybe even Nightwing or himself, “just as back-up.” There was no way they would let him operate as part of the team without close supervision for at least a year. Jason was determined to grit his teeth and bear it, even if he wasn’t sure for how long he could. He was chafing already, running like this with the others when he’d been on his own for so long.

However, Bruce only confirmed that he’d heard him, and then the line went silent.

Huh.

—

There was no better time to be awake in the manor than the early morning in Jason’s opinion. The light fell softly into the kitchen as he entered, barefoot and in his pajamas.

Alfred was there, of course. “Good morning, Jason.”

It was their private ritual; had been even before Jason had moved back into the fold. Six a.m., tea and sandwiches. The only difference was that now, Jason hadn’t vanished by the time Damian stomped into the kitchen, glowering at them for being awake and having the audacity to send him to school.

It was kinda adorable, not that Jason would ever tell him that. Instead, he watched Damian make his way through his own breakfast and nodded toward the packed lunch waiting for him. “I see you’re not taking advantage of the school cafeteria, then?”

“Them?” The amount of scorn Damian managed to pack into a single word would have weighed down a ship or two. “They would not know good food if it chased after them with a sword.”

“Let me guess—still only three spices, and these are salt, pepper, and ketchup?” Jason asked.

“I believe there is a fourth one now—they have a particularly intolerable mixture that they like to label ‘Chinese.’” Damian’s whole face scrunched up with distaste. “It tastes nothing like what Mother used to cook.”

“While I am sorry to hear that,” Alfred inserted, “we will be late if we don’t leave soon.”

Damian grumbled but hopped off his chair. Jason glanced at the clock — seven a.m. Dick would get up soon. Might as well make him a sandwich, too.

He pulled the ingredients closer, already compiling a list of recipes in his head. Talia had shown him how to make most of Damian’s favorites. He could teach those to Alfred, no problem.

—

“Hood. Stop it right now.” Dick looked at him with big eyes, or so Jason assumed, considering they were both wearing their masks.

“No, continue.” Barbara sounded choked, audibly forcing down laugher.

And, hey. Love was one thing, but Jason knew who gave him the best intel night after night. “So big bird and B decide that they have to infiltrate this organization, right? Only… they’re all swingers…”

Her laughter was brighter than the streetlights.

—

Jason stepped into the corridor and silently closed the door behind him.

God, but it had taken a long time to get Dick tired and ready to sleep. Jason himself was still feeling too wired to pass out, but then he wasn’t operating on a 40-hour sleep deficit, so it was totally not the same thing.

He decided to wander down to the cave. Bruce was still up, of course, acknowledging Jason’s presence with a grunt. The only other person present was Tim, who was bent over some files.

…like, really bent over them. One could almost think…yup, he’d fallen asleep at the table.

Jason gently poked him. Then he harshly poked him. When nothing happened, he sighed and moved one arm under Tim’s legs, the other gripping his shoulders. The kid would fuck up his back if he stayed like that. It took a bit of effort, but they were soon making their way up the stairs, Tim cradled securely in Jason’s arms.

They’d almost made it upstairs when Tim stirred, blue eyes opening halfway and looking at him.

Heart in his throat, Jason waited. This family had a bad habit of coming awake swinging, and with Jason hovering over them… well, it wouldn’t be entirely unjustified, wouldn’t it? Especially in Tim’s case.

Tim grumbled and went right back to sleep.

—

Jason pinched his nose. Or tried to, but he was wearing his helmet, so he basically poked himself in the face. Judging from Duke’s expression, that wasn’t helping his point.

“So you decided to buy us time by…”

“Ninja traps,” Cassie finished for him. Looking as if that made total sense.

“Ninja traps.”

“Well, it was more of an obstacle course, really,” Duke added helpfully.

“Okay, that’s a weird-ass move, but I can respect that. Then why did that warehouse explode?”

“Fire.” Cassie’s expression gave nothing away.

Jason looked to Duke. “What she said.”

“And the fire was there because…?”

“Fire is an obstacle.”

Jason groaned. “I cannot believe I’m the responsible person here,” he lamented. “Is this how you feel most of the time, D?”

There was laughter over the com. “Oh, Nightwing has finally acquired a co-parent,” Steph commented, followed by Tim’s: “About time.”

(Everyone ignored Bruce’s “Hey!”.)

—

“Jason.”

Bruce was hovering. He probably didn’t intend to it; it just came naturally. Jason still felt that nervous lurch in his stomach whenever Bruce did that, but he was trying to get over it, so he just asked: “Yeah?”

“Let me show you something.”

They went into one of the rooms behind Bruce’s office that Jason had always assumed held nothing but files. He was very wrong.

“After you… left, I found myself reading books and thinking—he would’ve loved that.”

The walls were lined with bookcases. There were special editions of Jane Austen reprints, thick sci-fi novels, and nineteenth-century murder mysteries. It was eclectic and weird and precisely what Jason liked. What they both liked.

“I kept collecting them,” Bruce told him, voice too even. “Just… in case, I suppose.”

Jason stared at the shelves and shelves full of books, all read exactly once. His eyes were stinging because the glass display downstairs—that was bullshit. That uniform was about and for Bruce, and the new Robins, not Jason.

But this?

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Bruce almost-smiled, relief written across his face. “You’re welcome. Uh. I’ll leave you to it.”

Jason let him take two steps, then he said: “Bruce. If there was ever a time for a hug, this is it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Jason let Bruce pull him into an embrace—hugged back just as fiercely and told him: “It’s okay. You can stop grieving now. I’m here.”

If Bruce’s shoulders were shaking, neither of them mentioned it.

—

It was a total accident. Jason had felt like holding Dick’s hand, so he did. It was only when he looked up and caught Tim’s eye that he remembered—right. They were surrounded by Dick’s family. Their family.

Tim winked. The conversation didn’t stop. No one else commented or even gave them a second glance.

Something in Jason exhaled.

Dick squeezed his hand, smiling at something Damian was saying, and ugh, sometimes Jason was so full of feelings, he didn’t know what to do with it. Dick was just so—so—

Yeah. Jason was so fucking gone for him. All he could think about was how it would feel if there was a ring, there, pressing against his own.

He leaned back, adding a sarcastic comment or two to the conversation just to bask in the sunshine of Dick’s laughter. That thought warranted some serious consideration, not to mention talking to Dick, but—just the idea that he could have that? That he trusted himself, and Dick, and their family, enough to have that?

It was more than enough.

—

(Three days before Jason moved into the manor, Dick called a family gathering.

“Why is Jason not here, then?” Tim asked, frowning. “If it’s a family matter, it concerns him, too.”

Dick could kiss him for that. Instead he said: “Because it’s about him. I’m gonna lay down some ground rules, okay?”

Jason letting Dick convince him to move back in with them… that was huge. And dangerous. Dick had figured out long ago that Jay and Bruce had no idea how to handle each other anymore. Neither did the rest. That didn’t mean they didn’t want to. Dick was hopeful.

It was just… Jay was the best thing in Dick’s world; his support, his light, his conscience. He just made everything better. And Dick had no intentions of letting their family or anyone else fuck that up.)

(I’m taking prompts.)

#elareine writes #batfamily #jaydick #jason todd #this was meant to be shorter and is totally unedited because it's 1am and i wanna bedone with it #sorry

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supermanshield · 4 years

Text

Finding this is hard

~~~

Yet despite his best efforts tonight, Clark smiles at him, and even through the screen and slightly distorted feed he feels the warmth. Tingling suppressed because it’s nothing like the real deal. The one he’s seen directed at Lois, or when Clark talks about Lana.

Bruce has accepted that Clark will never be interested in him. Until finally, Clark takes a chance.

~~~

Words: 5,242

A/N: This only started because I was thinking about the layout of Wayne Manor, and for some reason considered Tim’s room next to Bruce’s. It grew into something much bigger from there, became much too serious and I completely lost track of the humorous angle I wanted to go for at first. Yay angst.

Also, another one in Bruce’s POV, which I always considered harder than Clark’s POV, but I am also working on two+ things with POV Clark.

Read on AO3

______________________________________________

“Quiet night?” Soft thud of Clark’s boots on the rooftop behind him and footsteps walking over to where Bruce sits crouched at the edge. An affirmative grunt is all he gives Clark in return, eyes trained on the building across the street and listening to shards of conversation being fed to him by the cowl from the bugs he has planted earlier.

“Stakeout.”

Minute flicker, Clark shifting in and out of focus, and he sits down next to Batman. “Turned the security camera on the corner over to the building with your guys in it.”

“Hnn. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Don’t use your superspeed though. Don’t need suspects scrambling because they see red and blue.”

He chances a look over at Clark. Squatting down on a grimy rooftop in Gotham, back against the half wall running around the perimeter – good, anyone on the street can only maybe see his black hair and Batman’s cowl blends into the dark of the night anyway –, and hair and cape wet from the rain is not a good look on Superman. He stands out like a sore thumb next to Batman, doesn’t belong here. Yet, it has been a long time since Bruce has sent him out of his city because of all that, his presence now a comfort that has crept up on Bruce. And Clark has learnt, too. Hiding in the shadows just like him and helpful to a level that used to be annoying. It’s not that Bruce is dependent on him for this kind of stuff, he really isn’t. He can just… welcome the company sometime. That’s okay.

“Did you have something to discuss?”

Clark shrugs, one corner of his mouth goes up. “Just thought I’d check up on you.”

“You can use the communicator for that.”

“Right.”

After a while of sitting like this, Clark’s hearing clearly focused on the same conversation as Bruce, they both perk up at the same time. Silently following the suspects is a job for Batman. He sends Superman away, tells him through his comm to go back to Metropolis and silently thanks him for the company.

Much later, after a meet-up with Robin at the docks and on their drive to the Cave, Red Robin behind them on his bike, Bruce considers his relationship with Clark. Damian stays silent in the seat beside him – lets him brood - , and when they get back to the cave, he and Tim (even Tim), both tired, disappear up to the house for a snack and sleep.

Maybe he has let Clark get too close. Got too comfortable around him and let down those meticulously crafted walls. Yet being around Clark isn’t painful anymore, feelings born out of curiosity evaporated a long time ago. A mere physical attraction shoved into the depths of his being when reciprocation turned out impossible. He’s accepted that, Clark is a friend, and Bruce is content with his family, as far as that is possible with two teenagers and an aggressive prepubescent son in the house, and more scattered across the city and the east-coast (he is). It was a necessity to keep Clark at arm’s length, before. Protect them, put yourself last, don’t be selfish, don’t let yourself fall (don’t pull Clark down).

He has even chased Selina for a bit in an attempt to settle down as expected of a man his age and his status, his name, but it ultimately wasn’t worth it. Selina obviously not the right person for settling down and his interest faked, a game of cat and mouse (bat).

So yes, he can be close to Clark. They are friends, after all.

----------

Clark’s brain is a super-computer and more human than Bruce’s at that. It comes in handy when filtering through recordings or data and Bruce can’t think of a better reason to invite him over for dinner and a joint case-study in the cave.

He doesn’t remember the last time Clark has been up in the house and not just in the cave. It’s ridiculous really, they’ve been friends for years, only Bruce hasn’t been acting like one while Clark has put in 100% effort (and only sporadically to the point of annoyance).

Friendship leads to bad things and more, like with Harvey. But Clark is not Harvey.

“Thanks for inviting me for dinner,” Clark says when they walk back down into the cave. “You didn’t have to, I mean. But it’s nice to talk about non-cape stuff for once and see you interact with your kids.”

“I didn’t invite you because I had to, Clark. We’re friends.” Fact, not question and (obviously) obvious to Clark.

“Of course.” But a dazzling smile in his direction (he finds he wants that, more, and that’s exactly why he can’t) and Bruce decides that now is as good a time as any to go on patrol and leave Clark with the brunt of the work that they started on earlier. A few quick commands and suits up, utility-belts packed, and Robin, Red Robin, Batgirl, and Batman speed out of the cave to go on patrol.

----------

A steaming cup of coffee appears on the desk in front of him and Clark sits down in the other chair and swivels towards him. It always goes like this; Bruce will come up early, ready for monitor duty whatever time of the day it is. Clark walks in almost a clockwork five minutes later, coffee or tea in both hands, a quick silent rush of his cape and he reappears with snacks, sometimes dinner (leftovers from Martha’s cooking, and Bruce hears his stomach growl in betrayal at the first waft of chicken, cooked vegetables, goulash). They often get paired up, being in the same time-zone and no one else wants to spend time with Batman much. Except maybe Diana, or J’onn. (But Diana pries too much, seeking out the truth. J’onn doesn’t pry at all, even though he could. With him it is hyper-focus and silence for most of 6 hours.)

So, it’s fine with Clark, nothing’s expected and there is familiarity in their conversation. The time passes faster and he gladly chooses this over any board meeting where nothing ever gets done anyway. But today monitor duty is during his patrol, and Tim and Damian are out on their own. Together. Dick in Blüdhaven and Cassandra out of commission in bed. One of Bruce’s screens is continuously focused on Gotham, two small figures in capes and chasing bad guys and each other. They do their job and Bruce watches his other screens, listens to Clark and nods appropriately, goes over some new schematics for a suit improvement.

Corner of his eye, peripheral vision is dedicated to the two small figures in Gotham. The screen shows the top of Wayne Tower and Red Robin pacing up and down, clearly talking, unhappy, Robin has crossed his arms. Bruce can interrupt them over the comms, give them a good scare, but they’d never learn. The need for them to work together more poignant as Bruce becomes older and Damian almost ready to join the Teen Titans if it wasn’t for Tim. His heart skips a beat when Damian’s hand goes for his katana, but Tim holds up his in surrender, holding him off and it is fine, they’re okay.

Bruce turns back to his other screens only to find Clark looking at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Clark takes another bite of his Mars bar, feigning oblivion.

“Listen.”

“It’s my hearing, B. I can’t just turn it off.”

“Then focus on something else.” Clark turns back to his side of the monitor bank and Bruce goes back to his work, but he’s lost his focus. Gotham not just in his peripheral vision anymore and of course, Clark notices.

“Want me to go down there? I’ll keep an eye on them. Or you go and I’ll stay here.”

“No, we have a job to do. So do they.”

Clark doesn’t look convinced and something in the back of Bruce’s mind screams of Superman’s disapproving scowl at a brightly coloured child next to Batman’s black cape. But that is a long time ago and Clark looks at him now with a crease between his raised eyebrows and a hand on his shoulder. Worry, a question.

“No,” he says again. “They need to do this together. I trained them. I trust them.”

That hand lingers on his shoulder a moment longer, and Bruce doesn’t shake it off, doesn’t want to. The weight behind Clark’s touch and his gaze ground him, get him out of his thoughts and back to focus on work.

----------

It’s a couple weeks later and they’re all in the cave, Tim and Cass on the matts, sparring, Damian off by the workbench quietly cleaning his gear. Bruce has a video feed open to the Fortress of Solitude, where Superman and Supergirl are looking into the Kryptonian database for the origins of an abandoned alien ship found on Mars. Or at least, Superman is. Kara is playing with newly acquired Krypto, two streaks of red and a blur in the background from time to time. Clark’s family is expanding, too.

Their conversation is all business, small talk quickly waved off by Bruce and he keeps them on track. He has other stuff to do and if Clark can’t find anything about the ship in the Kryptonian data, he’ll contact Oa and let the Lanterns handle it. Yet despite his best efforts tonight, Clark smiles at him, and even through the screen and slightly distorted feed he feels the warmth. Tingling suppressed because it’s nothing like the real deal. The one he’s seen directed at Lois, or when Clark talks about Lana.

“I could uhh… come over?” The uncertainty in Clark’s voice surprises Bruce, but Clark quickly picks up again. “Got everything we need here. I’ll send it to you and we can come up with a plan.”

“The Lanterns can handle it from here,” Bruce says resolutely, pauses. “OK, come over. Bring Kara. I want to have Tim teach her some things about tracking and deduction.” At the mention of her name, Kara appears, now fully visible and Krypto at her side, looking up expectantly at the ball in her hand.

“Hi, guys,” she waves, and Bruce finds Tim and Cass behind him, and even Damian has come much closer. She pretends to hold a magnifier in front of her face. “Detective Kara on the case.” Cass smiles and waves. Tim greets back and says something about listening to detective Tim, smug voice and all smiles. Bruce looks back at Clark to find him still staring at him, holds onto that and Clark’s blue eyes, until Kara speaks again. “Sooo, sleepover at the manor tonight? It’s getting a little boring up here. No offence, Kal.”

Clark holds up his hands. “None taken.”

Bruce cuts in quickly. “No. Tonight’s training and then back home. Damian and I will go on patrol. Clark can stay here with you guys.”

Clark chuckles. “Bruce, it’s fine. You’ve got room enough and I’ll just go back to Metropolis tonight.”

Bruce’s stare turns into a scowl, and Clark folds his arms. Tim lets out an uncharacteristic groan, Cass rolls her eyes. Clark breaks first, unfolds his arms but it’s not without a smug smile when he says, “We’ll be right there.”

They all have supper together, it’s an odd sight at the table with Clark and Kara in their super suits, capes left folded on one of the benches in the cave. Damian is already in the under-suit of his Robin costume, the rest of them still in training sweats, but Alfred only scoffs mildly as he joins them at the table, impeccable as ever. Bruce gets lost in conversation with Clark while the children have their own thing going on. So lost, in fact, that he forgets about patrol time until Damian gives an incessant tug on his sleeve and tells him to ‘get ready, father. I cannot believe you let the alien distract you like that.’

On top of that, in the cave Clark somehow convinces him to let Cass, Tim, and Kara have their sleepover. It’s good for Kara, he says, she needs to spend more time with people her age. Of course Tim then asks if Kon can come too, and Clark happily says yes, at which point Bruce has to remind him that it’s his home, his room is right next to Tim’s and everyone needs their sleep, and thinks it’s a good thing they’re not raising these kids together. They’re opposites, he would be the strict parent, and everyone would go to Clark to ask things (evidently, they already do, or at least Tim does, and Bruce wonders again if he’s let Clark let too close).

That night on patrol though, he can’t shake the feeling that something about tonight felt absolutely right. He chalks it up to the manor, it’s large, it’s supposed to be that full, and his age. He’s not weak, he’s just becoming a sentimental old sap.

----------

On Tuesday afternoon he runs into Tim in the hallway adjoining both their bedrooms where Tim tells him about a recent board meeting at WE, some adjustments he wants to make to their financing plans, coffee cup in hand and stack of papers in the other. Mature, he looks mature.

“How old are you again?” He asks after Tim finishes talking.

Exasperated sigh and waving the stack of papers. “Did you even hear anything I said?”

Bruce just glares at him in answer, raises an eyebrow.

“Right,” Tim says. He hums. Tim is going to fly out soon and Bruce is not quite ready to acknowledge how that makes him feel, but he’ll do his damn best to make sure it’s a good experience for him. To not push him away. To not lose him. “You know I’ll be out of here as soon as soon as I’m eighteen.”

“And finish school.”

“Fine, and finish school. Then I’ll get my own apartment. Might get quiet here.”

Bruce shrugs. “It won’t be quiet with Damian around. I could always call Clark to come over if it gets boring.”

“Clark?”

“Or-”

“No, no, invite Clark. Good for you.” He elbows Bruce and steps into his room. Tim’s grin is just a little unsettling, worth a second thought, but the only possible answer is simple enough. Clark slips into his conversations and his thoughts like he’s supposed to be there (he is). Being around him is more than comfortable, it’s normal. Much better than back in the day when he was always with Lois and Bruce is completely over his feelings.

---------

A mild injury (twisted ankle, he landed wrong and feels it up in his knee), and Clark insists on going back to the cave with Bruce after patrol. He sends Damian to the showers and to bed, slides into the chair in front of the computer and takes off his cowl. Clark hovers around, it’s annoying, he offers to get an ice pack, but that’s Alfred’s job and he’s there as soon as Bruce sinks down. Tim’s at the other end of the large bank of monitors, tracking shipments of something. Bruce should really be more interested and know what Tim is up to, but he’s tired, sore all over, just wants a nice warm shower and sleep. Work first.

Maybe it’ll go faster with Clark around. At least, if he would just stop worrying about Bruce and actually help him. They’re looking into some recovered DNA when Bruce reaches up, rubs at his neck subconsciously.

“You okay?” Clark’s question startles him, both their eyes still trained on the screen. Listening again.

“I’m fine, just sore.”

“Go to bed. I’ll do this.”

“No, I still need to write tonight’s report.” Rubs at his shoulder and rolls.

“Ok. Then here, let me.” Clark walks closer to him, behind the chair, makes a motion with his hands. It takes just a bit too long for Bruce to catch on, but he leans forward slightly. Clark deftly removes the cape and cowl - and it should really worry Bruce that he knows how to, but he forgoes an angry comment as soon as Clark’s hands touch his shoulder. They’re warm along his shoulders and neck, large, gentle despite their incredible strength. Of course, Clark easily finds all the knots and twists and kneads in just the right places. Bruce tries to refocus on his work, tries to be annoyed with Clark for knowing exactly what to do, but the smooth slide of Clark’s thumbs on his trapezius muscles makes it hard. Friends can do this.

It’s somehow much too soon when all the tension is gone and Clark pulls back his hands, but he pushes the thought away. Clears his throat. “Hnn. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He hasn’t noticed Tim leave, but his spot is empty now, hears him rumbling around in a different part of the cave and the rest of their work gets done quickly in silence.

“I think we should wrap things up here,” Bruce says after finishing his report. He pushes himself up out of the chair, has to hold onto the backrest for support. Clark, automatically, reaches out to him to help.

“Report all done?”

Bruce nods.

“Ok, then. Need any help getting upstairs?”

“No.”

Clark hasn’t let go. In fact, he’s come closer, every colour blue visible in his eyes and his breath ghosting over Bruce’s face.

“Bruce, I-“

“Yes.” The grip on his arm becomes tighter, slow tug. Lips on his, impossibly soft and a hand gently supporting his back. But his own hand stings and the next second Clark stands in front of him, shocked and appropriate distance between them again. Bruce swears in pain. His hand throbs.

“What the fuck, Clark.”

“Crap! Sorry, Bruce, I…” Bruce clenches his jaw, there’s a sigh, then only a gust of wind, Clark’s speed too high for Bruce to even see the streak of red flying out of the cave.

“Bruce.” He whirls around at the sound of his name, heart racing. Tim’s stopped on his way to the stairs, towel around his neck and Bruce ignores the pain in his ankle as he makes his way over. “Fuck, why did you try to hit him?”

“Bed, now.”

Tim groans overdramatically and walks past him into the house. Slowly, Bruce makes it up the stairs and to his bedroom, where he collapses into bed and a restless sleep.

---------

The next day it’s glowers from Tim, no hugs or any words from Cass, and Damian isn’t much better off. Alfred gives him more than a few pointed looks, no sassy raised eyebrow and all scowls. Bruce ignores them as much as they ignore him and the house is quieter than it’s been in a long time. He needs to deal with this himself, he just doesn’t know how to yet. It all lasts until evening, when everyone is in the cave quietly getting ready, where Tim finally speaks to him.

“You lead him on.”

“What?”

“Clark. You lead him on.”

“I heard you, Tim. I did not.”

“You get too close to the alien, father.”

“Clark is a friend. I am close to him.”

“No, you let him get close. You lower your defences, and your body language is all… open.” The last word sounds like a reach within Damian’s vocabulary, chosen carefully.

“Exactly,” Tim joins in. “You lean into him; he moves towards you. You make googly eyes at him; he makes googly eyes at you. When you’re not looking of course.”

“I don’t make googly eyes.”

Tim sighs. “You get the point. Hell, I’ve seen you having coffee with him in the kitchen after patrol more than a few times. I thought that-”

“Tim.”

One of his trademark teenage sighs again, all frustration and no patience. “For a so-called billionaire playboy, you’re really bad at telling when someone is actually interested in you.”

“I’m done talking about this. Suit up. All of you.”

“Had me believe you were in love with him…” A mumble and it dies down as Tim puts on his helmet. The roar of his bike engine drowns out Bruce’s words. “Clark isn’t… that’s just me.”

By the time the cave is quiet again, Damian is waiting for him in the batmobile, arms crossed over his fastened seatbelt. Bruce pulls the cowl over his head and doesn’t notice Cass behind him until she tugs on his cape, puts a hand on his shoulder. “You… love.” She touches his chest. “Clark. Loves you… too.”

On patrol that night, Bruce’s mind wanders. If Damian notices he doesn’t comment on it. They intercept a weapons shipment by the docks, take down the thugs. Standard night in Gotham.

Clark isn’t gay. Straight? Bruce has never outright asked him, always assumed. Lana and Lois all he has to go on and he simply came to a logical conclusion. Though it’s a flawed one, and contradicted by himself on top of that. CEO of a billion-dollar company and he has women hanging of his arms at every society event he goes to because it’s expected. To be straight. He can’t imagine Clark having to do that – maybe it was his rural upbringing, though the Kents are not like that.

And of course, Clark brings Bruce’s whole world, the lies he tells himself, down with one simple kiss. After eleven goddamn years, and all he can feel is loss, lost time, frustration and anger as his fists connect with ribs, jaws, elbows on the street. He needs Clark to explain. He needs himself to understand.

---------

“Bruce.” Clark opens the door, still dressed in a blue button-up and off-the-rack slacks. It’s clear he hasn’t been expecting him; a single plate with a half-finished dinner sits on the table, next to a laptop.

“Why now.”

“What?” Clark clears his throat, swallows a remnant of his dinner. “I’m sorry for what happened.” He steps aside to let Bruce into the apartment, follows him towards the small living room. “I didn’t mean to… I just thought- “

“That’s just it. You didn’t think, you just-” Bruce stops himself, groans. He isn’t here to fight with Clark, but it is just so goddamn easy. Toe to toe and head to head despite half the room separating them. Clark’s jaw sets in that all too familiar way and his expression drops from astonishment and curiosity to calm and collected.

“Are you just here to yell at me? Because I’m really not in the mood. I’m sorry. I thought you were interested in… that. Clearly, I misread the signs, so it won’t happen again. Can we just forget about this whole thing… and move on or something?”

“No.” To Bruce, moving on is impossible.

“Right. Why are you even mad at me? If anything, I should be the one being angry with you. And it doesn’t sound like you came here to apologize for hitting me.”

“No, I didn’t. I’m here so you can explain one thing to me, Clark. Why did you kiss me?”

An eternity packed into the second it took Clark to find his reply, and his answer anything but satisfying. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ve just been spending too much time together.”

“We’re friends. Friends spend time together.”

“Yes. Ok,” Clark sighs, averts his eyes. “I’m attracted to you… and I thought it was mutual. I mean, you let me give you a massage. You’ve never let me done that! So really, I’m sorry if I misread the situation.” Clark holds up his hands, palms up in explanation, excuse. All of it seems much too easy for him, something to brush off.

“I didn’t think my behaviour would cause such a complication.”

“A complication.”

“I didn’t know, or I would have done things differently. Ergo, a complication.”

Clark breaths in and out, pinches the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Ok, do you have a problem with me being the way I am? Because that’s what it sounds like. It was just a kiss. Get over it.”

“You jump to conclusions, Clark. As always.”

“Cryptic and you leave me two steps behind, Bruce. As always.”

He looks around Clark’s apartment. The couch is small, but he sits down anyway, motions for Clark to sit on the armchair. Ikea. It puts him across from Bruce and level. “I didn’t know you were…” he has to strain for the right word. “Not straight. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Clark runs a hand through his hair, closes his eyes and takes of his glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be good at reading people. I thought you knew.”

“All evidence pointed to the contrary.”

“Bisexuality is a thing you know. And I don’t have to tell you everything about my love interests.”

“Right. Feels like you do, though.”

“So then,” Clark tries. “You’re just here to confirm my sexuality.”

“Not just that.”

“Oh. So, you are… You’re not out, are you?”

“Neither are you, apparently.”

“It’s complicated. And it’s not like I actively hide it,” he says accusingly. Evidently, conditioned bias can really be a bitch sometimes. There’s a whole other conversation to be uncovered behind Clark’s complicated. One they should have. Maybe later. Bruce swallows.

“Why I hit you. I overreacted. I taught myself to… not want that, and-”

“Rao, Bruce, stop. You don’t have to deny who you are. Not around me.” There’s that comforting hand on his again. So much of Clark's communication is rooted in touch. He's held back, Bruce realises now, and finds he desperately wants a lot more of it. Hand on the armrest of the couch, he doesn’t pull away.

“Will you let me apologise. I didn’t mean to hit you and I’m sorry. You know I would never, and it’s stupid.” He looks at where Clark’s thumb touches his bruised knuckles. “Clearly,” Clark agrees.

“The thing is. I was finally content. Happy with what I could have. My family. You as a friend. And then you go and ruin it all with a stupid little kiss.” He has to avert his eyes, look up at the ceiling to consider the absurdity of it all. Biggest miscalculation of his life. The feeling of loss washes over him again like a tidal wave of his own making, and he can’t help but wonder if it feels the same for Clark. “Eleven goddamn years, Clark. Took you long enough.”

Clark’s chuckle does things to his stomach that he hasn’t allowed himself to experience in a long time. He joins Bruce on the couch. “Hey. At least I had the courage to do something.”

“Okay. So you suck a little bit less at this than me.” Some of the tension finally leaves his body, and Clark visibly relaxes next to him. He turns towards Bruce, like on the watchtower, like at dinner. Bruce thinks of what Tim had said, how they lean towards each other, always, and it feels right, fits. Opposites attract, or something.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes. Didn’t really get the full experience last time.”

“Wonder whose fault that was.” Clark’s face has come much too close for Bruce to see his smile, but he can hear it, feel it in the way there is just a little bit of teeth when their lips meet. This time, the kiss is much better. The feel of Clark’s lips under his own, his hands on Bruce’s thigh, his chest, so warm. Clark’s curls and incredibly strong pulse. He commits it all to memory. Just in case.

“And he says I jump to conclusions,” Clark states to the room, and Bruce has to close his eyes to keep from laughing.

------------

Epilogue

------------

It’s been over a month since the incident with Bruce and Clark in the cave, and honestly, Tim thinks he would be seeing more of Clark. He felt a little disappointed at first, didn’t talk much to Bruce. Because of course, leave it to him to just shut everyone out again and pretend nothing had happened. Damian – annoyingly so – takes after his dad, works hard and just a tad too victorious.

Tim considers himself a pretty good detective.

However. It takes him a couple days to notice, too long, Bruce would say, that Bruce is calm. More relaxed. If that’s even possible for Batman. Well, not out on patrol of course, but at home. Tim’s doing homework in the ground floor study one day when Bruce walks in, looking at his phone. Smiling. Distracted and he hasn’t noticed Tim on time, clearly, when he quickly pockets his phone and asks Tim what he’s working on. The smile lingers.

There’s a league meeting but when batman returns to the zeta platform in the cave, the usually present proverbial protruding vein is not there, and Bruce doesn’t stomp to his computer right away. Instead, he takes a whole five minutes to remove the constricting parts of his uniform, eat one of Alfred’s sandwiches, and comfortably installs himself in front of the large monitor. It’s as un-Bruce and healthy as Batman can get and it doesn’t go unnoticed. No one comments.

And then. Bruce comes home late one night – on time for patrol – from the office. Or so he claims. But his tie is loosened, shirt not perfectly pressed anymore, and he smells like Pakistani curry. He could have got the food delivered of course, but it’s the windswept hair that betrays exactly who brought him back to Gotham after a dinner in Metropolis.

All of it culminates, there’s more little things and it’s the kind of behaviour that stands out when you spend a lifetime practicing every possible degree of a scowl and a faked interest in small-time fun.

Tim’s suspicions are finally confirmed in a much too unsubtle way when he’s in his room late one night – or maybe early morning –, under the covers and ready to go to sleep. There’s stumbling, bumping into the wall outside his room. His first thought is a threat, but then he hears Bruce’s voice. And another. Creak of the master bedroom door and footsteps shuffling on carpet.

“Take that off.” Straightforward as ever, Bruce.

“This too?” And yep, that’s Clark. Where are his noise cancelling headphones?

Constrained. “Yes.”

Tim clicks on his bedside light, stumbles around his room extra loud, hoping Clark will hear him. Notice he’s awake. At the very least, Superman should be considerate.

“I thought you had superspeed.”

“Patience, B.”

“Waited for you all week.” The rest was muffled, a creaking sound.

Under the safety of his covers and the protection of his headphones, Tim thinks about texting Stephanie. Or Kon. Or Dick. He groans and decides to put on some music instead. Why couldn’t Bruce just come out to them like a normal person? Why didn’t he spend an all-nighter in the cave tonight? Why did he ever choose the bedroom next to Bruce? At least Damian won’t be able to hear them. Right? He makes the mistake of lifting up one side of his headphones to check, only to hear a rhythmic thump, thump, thump, and drops it right back down. Okay. He can probably do some more work on the Two-face case down in the cave. It’s not like he needs sleep, anyway.

He just needs to have a very stern talk with Batman and Superman come morning. And move to a different bedroom.

#superbat #write write #omg i just saw this is also my 6000th post #idk if that's good or just sad #lmao

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themandylion · 4 years

Text

A Tale of Two Tims

(Have a thing I wrote up/shared on the Tim Drake Discord Server.)

Okay, but listen. Parent-trap type situation where there are actually two Tims, let's call them Timothy Jackson Drake and Timothy Drake Jackson. The one that first shows up/first becomes Red Robin in New52 is Tim Jackson—when he screws up and brings the wrath of Penguin down on him/his family, he does his own version of witness protection to hide his parents, then assumes the identity of his cousin, Tim Drake (who went to a dig with his archeologist parents over the summer; the whole family apparently died when their plane went down, all very tragic). It's going pretty good, the Jacksons were for all intents and purposes killed by Penguin's men when they shot up their suburban home. Tim "Drake" (actually Tim J.) is found to be alive! And taken in by local philanthropist, Bruce Wayne. At night, he dresses up as Red Robin, everything's cool.

EXCEPT! Turns out Tim Drake (the real one, the one we know and love from pre-Flashpoint canon) actually didn't die in that plane crash! He makes it back to Gotham, looking for his only relatives, the Jacksons (I'm thinking Tim J.'s dad was Janet Drake's brother and both Tims were named for a shared grandfather, btw). Only they're dead?? And somehow there's already a Tim Drake in Gotham, living as the ward of Bruce Wayne?? Tim D. looks at the photos and look. Look. He's not an idiot. He knows that's his cousin Tim. But he also knows that Tim J. wouldn't have stolen his identity without a good reason so he, like... puts on a fake mustache and some sunglasses and goes to talk to Tim J. who I am trying very hard not to call Jimothy

They decide that the best course of action would be to time share the Tim Drake identity. Tim D.'s always idolized Batman and Robin ("Wait, he made you Robin?! Tim, I'm the one who stalked them for years, this is so not fair!" "Technically, I'm Red Robin, not Robin." "You know what I mean!!"), he's down with getting a chance to be (Red) Robin sometimes! They have to do lots of secret training and junk to make sure Tim D. is at the same level as Tim J., even so they both have their own distinct styles (Tim J., the near-Olympic gymnast, is very flippy and twisty; Tim D. is more cerebral and a better detective; both of them are experts with the bo staff).

The Tims are cousins, but some cousins look very similar. Maybe they both took after the grandparent they were named after or something, idk. They're nearly the same age, almost the same height, and once Tim D. finally gets around to having his hair cut, their hair is the same also.

None of the Bats are aware that there are multiple Tims. If the Tim that checks on Mr. and Mrs. Jackson in Batman & Robin Eternal is Tim D., they're aware it's not their son—but they're also so grateful to see their sweet nephew who they were certain was dead! And he'd basically be their son now if it weren't for how their own Tim kinda totally screwed stuff up so now they have to be in hiding, oops.

Eventually, it becomes a challenge for them—how long can they keep everyone aside from Tim J.'s parents from realizing that there are multiple Tims? They make bets over who'll figure it out first, and when, and how. Supers might be able to tell that this Tim is not the same as the Tim who they met before! Better stay away from Supers for a bit. What if someone notices that Tim doesn't have the same scars?? There's a tense period where they seriously consider purposefully scarring each other in an effort to complete the illusion, before they realize that's crazy and they'll just have to shower privately/be very careful about medical stuff. Tims have to be careful and try to always wear gloves in the cave so that there aren't any contradictory fingerprints. ("Tim, how come you never do fingerprint ID on your phone?" "Uuuuh I just prefer number passcodes. *sweats nervously*")

Probably the biggest threat to the whole charade is that they both really, really want to pull an Epic Prank on Damian to get back at him for all the times he tried to kill them. But no, there's too great a chance it could reveal the whole thing. But it would be so glorious for a brief period of time—!

(This is where I point out that I have mostly ignored Rebirth so I have no idea about most details and am mostly dependent on stuff I've gleaned from Tumblr.) Which Tim was "dead"? Who knows! Probably the flippy usurper, though. This might also explain why Bruce was so ready to accept Tim's "death"—he knew Tim wasn't dead because Tim was right there! In the manor! Hiding out and pretending to be dead until Batman got to the bottom of the mystery of who tried to kill Red Robin! "Good job, sport, dodging the incinerating lasers at the last moment and tricking the drones into thinking they'd killed you!" "Riiiight, dodging... *sweats nervously*" (Tim D. is super-worried about Tim J., but he can't say/do anything or else the Bats will find out that there's more than one Tim!! Oh noooooo)

Neither one of them lays claim to evil future Tim—who isn't even aware of the existence of multiple Tims?? Clearly this future Tim is an inferior Tim, ugh, not worth listening to, what a jerk wait who's Conner that name sounds vaaaaguely familiar to Tim D....

When memories start coming back and such in Rebirth? That's all Tim D. There's gonna be some reeeeally interesting conversations when he finally makes it back and has a chance to sit down with Tim J. and compare notes. ("Wait, what do you mean you saw Kon? Didn't he get wiped from existence by that whole weird paradox thing where he couldn't have ever existed in the first place?" "Different Kon entirely. My Kon is a clone-combo of Clark and Luthor. Also, my Bart is an adorable dork with big hair, much cooler than your Bart. Sorry, I don't make the rules.")

Anyway. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk on how DC should have handled the sudden personality change between pre-Flashpoint!Tim and New52!Tim. *bows*

#Tim Drake #themandylion writes #my fic #headcanon #long post #Mandy's Two Tim Theory #Jimothy #is responsible for that one awful moment of claiming that you can't be made to do anything you don't want when you're mindcontrolled 😬

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cleverbxrd · 4 years

Text

... In Love and War

WHO: Tim Drake / @cleverbxrd , Ra’s al Ghul / @thedcmonshead MENTIONED: Steph Brown, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, The Bat-Family, Jack Drake WORD COUNT: 4,247 LOCATION: Your typical abandoned warehouse in Gotham, used for all kinds of nefarious purposes. THE BASICS: Tim heads to face what he thinks might be his doom after a mysterious new member of the Young Justice messaging chat prompts him to follow. Tim knows exactly who, and what, this is about. Ra’s is there to finally get what he’s wanted for years. TW: Tim being Tim, Ra’s being Ra’s, If either of those don’t give enough of an “Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here” Vibe: Emotional Turmoil, Emotional Manipulation, Predatory Behavior, Mentions of Physical Violence, Mentions of Past Deaths, Trauma (lots of it)

TIM: Fear. Anger. Hate.

Emotions came from his chest, his guts, burned with a fire he hadn’t felt in what felt like years. So this was what it was like to feel again? To remember the fight still inside, the passion to push himself forward. To love someone he’d known and admired for years. To loathe the face that yet again threatened to take the one thing that made him happy in this god-forsaken world away.

He’d stared at the messages for what felt like hours, icy blue eyes transfixed on the ‘unknown’ entity that had hacked into his private server (no doubt with help, cheater), and threatened just the wrong people.

Tim. Had. Had it.

The emotions swirled and erupted from his throat in a vicious, feral screech, wanting to do nothing but destroy every inch of the now suddenly cramped but all too empty room he stood in. Tears stung his eyes, squeezed tight against the force of his scream, biting back against the sobs that followed it. He should have known, he should have kept her closer, should have sent her with something to protect herself with. Was it a mistake to open up to her? To feel again? He’d been careless, reckless, failure, IMBECILE, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN-

Heaving breaths rocked his lungs like he was trying to breathe in a vacuum, clawed fingers gripping dangerously at his hair, feeling like he could scalp himself from the force. Tim felt himself shaking, but worse than before, worse than the other times he’d felt the same paranoia hit him with the force of a freighter train. Steph… Stephanie...

He had time. He could save her.

With no moment to lose, and a solid look of hate plastered onto his brow, the bird swiftly got to work erasing his presence, jamming tracers and blocking signals that could alert anyone with enough smarts to try finding him.

He’d done what he needed to do, preparing for the impossible, no, the inevitable, and with no time at all he was tugging the belts across his chest again, the cape feeling weightless as the cowl fell over his face. Trusted staff at his back, closed and ready for combat activation, Tim made his way to the cave he was sure he wouldn’t see again for a long time. He didn’t even think to take in the surroundings, check security to make sure no one knew where he was going, his eyes were zeroed in on the familiar bike, his bike, no one else got this Redbird. He was a man on a mission, and he wasn’t going to be stopped.

The mission… Swinging one leg over, firing the engine on, he briefly thought of his family, what little there was, his friends. Guilt flicked through his harsh glare, something anyone paying attention to could barely see under the near molded scowl of the mask. Not even a note, nothing of the sort. He should say something, should tell someone what he was really getting himself into…. A remorseful look shot up at the one entrance up to the manor, where he was sure the Butler and the Gremlin were safe, sound, no second thoughts in their head. Lot of good that did. Just pissed him off more.

No more running. This is the end of the line. It was time to fucking finish this.

What he wouldn’t give to have super-speed, breaking road laws nearly gave the same effect. He tried to concentrate on something other than the white that dared to roll over his eyes; the wind, the engine, the smell of the disgusting city air that would choke anyone who didn’t grow up in it. Something to keep his cool, or as much cool as he could, but it was all futile. Gloved knuckles threatened to rip apart at the very tips, the skin under them turning white under the bruises and scrapes they’ve endured. His hands itched to tear shit apart, they wanted a fight, and he knew exactly who he was targeting first.

If Ra’s was smart (as much as Tim hated to think about it, he really was. That was the scary part.), he’d have guards. At least a couple, just to wear him out, watch like the creepazoid he was, just until he could make that same damn offer again. His loose plan was to never let him get to step three. Take out the mad-man, save the girl, pretend the trauma of the past didn’t prove exactly what you’d told your girlfriend before you got together. Easy as pie.

It was never that easy. Don’t kid yourself, Red.

Skidding to a stop, the bike nearly collided into the side of the building he’d hoped was where the bastard assassin had alluded to. The dark bird stalked the entryway, a twitch in his brows signaling he’d been glaring for too long.

Too damn long, asshole.

One hand slid behind the cape, palming the one friend he’d had forever in combat, the trusted weapon in his crusade against the evils of the world, and he steadied himself, grounded himself with it. If he was going to take him down, he needed to remain balanced, focused, something he thought he could have when he pushed everyone away. Had he done more harm than good?

Never mind checking for locks, the vigilante slammed a hard kick against the door, literally busting his way in as his wrist flicked the staff to full extension, silver shining in the dim city lights behind him, white lenses shining with the harsh hate burning a hole in his stomach.

“Ra’s al fuckin’ Ghoul!” Tim announced, the yell ringing with the echo of his grand entrance. “Let her go. Or I swear I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

RA'S: Timothy always did have a flare for the dramatic. One of the many reasons, Ra's rather thought, that they had such fun together.

He'd half-expected the boy to come swooping into the warehouse in a rain of glass from above, a la Bruce, but busting in the door had rather a similar effect. And was, in all truth, probably rather more cathartic. The boy clearly needed it, at any rate: the boy's carefully cultivated upper-crust speech patterns were slipping into the improper diction of a real Gotham accent.

Ra's clicked his tongue.

The assassin was seated comfortably in an upholstered chair in the middle of the warehouse, a cup of tea in one hand resting on the arm of the chair. None of his League were immediately visible, though there was no doubt they must be there. It was rare that one of his men wasn't acting as a shadow, at the very least. Presently, there were no less than ten, scattered around in the deep shadows cast by what little light came in through the grimy windows.

"Tt. Detective, that's no way to talk to one's elders. And breaking in a door? All you needed to do was turn the handle--you're a welcomed guest, after all." Ra's sipped his tea, and kept his other hand out of sight. "Come. Have something to drink. I'm sure you could use the tea--you look a bit stressed."

TIM: As soon as the cool air hit his face, he knew things were wrong. He'd miscalculated, but somehow knew he was going to miscalculate. How? No clue, but it was always a surprise with this guy. That's what was really scary; the Unpredictability. Ra's was smart, too smart, smart enough to foil Tim's most complex plans. Half the time, Tim thought he got away with stuff just because it was amusing to the asshole, just letting his birdcage go unlocked to see how wild he could really get. It was only when he had the control he obviously needed, that's when he won. Tim needed the table to turn, and badly.

So what was so wrong with this picture?

He was calm, there was no Steph in sight. Infrared sight in the cowl told him more people were in the building, but none of them matched her form, nothing he could see at least. Bared teeth ground so hard they dared to crack in his jaw, deepening creases on the cowl's beak signifying his emotional turmoil as he stood his ground. He was too damn calm. And all Tim wanted to do was throw a punch.

"You think I give a fuck?!" His voice echoed, but not so much that he didn't confirm the assassin had the help hiding around. Think, if you make one wrong move you'll have to beat back twenty goons instead of the one. If he could only just think through the fire in his core. Pure, unadulterated hate, pushed on by paranoia. Good job taking the time to figure that shit out, Timmy. FUCKING FOCUS.

If he was still wearing the green pants, he might have quipped back something like I was more of a coffee guy anyways and spring into action, with a bright smile and nothing left to really lose. Back when he was younger, innocent, the only hardships he'd faced had been miniscule, moving past his personal tragedies with ease. He was here to make sure that didn't happen again. "I'm not here for sharing pleasantries." The staff whipped around, smacking into both hands. En garde. "Where is she?"

RA'S: Stubborn as ever. And Tim made it so very easy for Ra's to wriggle under his skin. He was ever-responsive to their little games, sharp enough to almost keep up, even throw out a surprise every once in a while.

For all the good it did him.

Ra's chuckled, raising a brow as he watched the boy snap his bo staff into full extension. "I may be wrong," he said slowly, smiling over his cup of tea, "but I believe you're here to do whatever it takes to get your sweetheart home safe." In a millisecond, his voice turned hard. "Put it down and come sit, Detective. You wouldn't deny an old man small pleasures, would you?"

He set the teacup neatly back in its saucer, and folded one leg elegantly over the other, drawing his other hand out of his pocket. A small box--no. A remote. A detonator.

"And do take the mask off, little songbird. It's impolite."

TIM: Shit.

Of course.

Every muscle in his body snapped to attention, an icy cold settling in as he felt his stomach drop to the floor. Something in that motion told him that Steph was still alive, which would make sense. He had little to relax about, but if Ra's was daring to blow something to kingdom come, he could guess that something was her. She was alive, and soon she'd be safe. That's the mission.

Gloved hands trembled, gripping the staff harder while he pondered his options. There really was only one. What did Bruce teach them? What did the absolute lunatic in front of him parrot? Whatever it takes. He probably hadn't met most of his rogues gallery when he came up with that lesson. Tim tried not to focus on the specifics, tried to not get in too deep. At this point, it was all improv, and this was the shit he was the worst at. With one hard exhale through his nose, he signaled his choice: Submission.

Ew. Gross. Bad word.

His stance relaxed, though he stayed as wound as a spring, the staff disappearing back in it's holster and his face finally freed, taking time to make sure he didn't nearly tear the cowl off his head. Messy hair fell out and around his face, no longer as harsh of a snarl but still angered, tense, just barely stained from his earlier tears. It was pathetic, he thought, that anyone could see him like this. That was just the plan, though, wasn't it? This is exactly why he'd taken her, tortured her, made sure he and his friends knew exactly what was going on.

Tim took brave steps forward, his hard, icy glare locked on to his enemy, standing with covered fist clenched to his side. Two outta three commands ain't bad. Who said you can't still rebel when the odds are so stacked against you you might as well fold? "I didn't know you still could feel happiness. Must be rare, not sure I've ever seen you genuinely smile."

RA'S: He could see the gears turning in his little bird's head at the sight of the detonator, the swift reevaluation of data the boy was so very good at. Calculating odds--odds that Stephanie was alive, odds that the detonator had to do with her, odds that Ra's would be willing to kill her if it was.

Odds that surrender would save her life.

As ever, Tim didn't disappoint. The bo staff was returned to its sheath, the mask came off, and the boy stepped over to linger against the side of the chair. Not sitting, simply staring Ra's down as that tongue of his lashed out while his hands could not.

The ancient assassin chuckled indulgently. "Of course I can. Typically you see me fighting, Timothy. You'll have ample opportunity to see me outside that context, now."

Another sip of tea, and he could feel the tension all but rolling off the boy. "I would have thought your father taught you to follow directions better than this. I said drop the staff, not put it back, and I said to sit." The teacup and saucer were shifted to the little table next to him, before Ra's held out an expectant hand. "I'll take the staff. And the mask."

TIM: Tim really hated every word that came out of the other's mouth. Like, Jesus H. Christ, something about the way he spoke made him want to just grumble, snap back even harder than he had. Call it a reflex, call it a learned behavior. He wasn't sure if it was pavlovian, there wasn't much of a reward in the end. Hell, one time he did just that he got kicked out a window and left to free fall. The only satisfaction that came from that was the knowledge that he'd done something to really piss the old man off to try and actually kill him. Fun times.

"My father wasn't the greatest guy." Neither was his dad. Why he stayed at the Manor still, Tim had no idea. It took all of his planning skills just to make sure he ditched the Butler when he went to school, let alone the Bat. "You know, should've known that from my demeanor." Reject, resent, repeat. It was a fun pattern that gave you scraped knees... or broken bones.

If he could tense up any more than he already was, he almost broke in half when Ra's asked for his gear. The few things keeping him from trembling too much, the only constants in this freaky-ass scenario. Whatever it takes.

Fuck... All of this.

"Don't be an idiot, Ra's." Tim growled, though it was quiet enough, his gaze breaking as he pulled the full cape and belt mess from his chest, the whole half of his uniform coming off into his hands in a few swift motions. "It all comes as a package deal. Chew on five pounds of kevlar." It was a last ditch effort, to try and stay calm, keep it quick and quippy. Not helping. The minute he tossed the mass over to Ra's he felt vulnerable. That's what you wanted. Fine. Take it. I can take it. If it's saving her, I can take it. With another rage-heated breath, Tim finally sat, already exhausted from the mental warfare. He never got this exhausted flinging code. Why couldn't he just hack his way out of this?

RA'S: Oh yes, he knew it was a package. It made it all the more gratifying when Tim stripped it off and tossed it in his lap before half-curling up in the chair opposite. Feeling vulnerable, evidently.

Ra's let a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. The boy didn't know the half of it.

Ra's slid free the bo staff before holding the belt out, clearing his throat. One of the assassins skulked out of the shadows to take it, and then disappeared once more.

Ra's tapped the closed staff against his thigh. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"Mm. No. You didn't want to take the chair when it was offered." He managed to keep a straight face as he nodded towards the ground at his feet. "Here."

Before Tim could open his mouth to respond, Ra's circled his thumb around the button on the remote. "Ah. None of that. I've had quite enough from Ms. Brown, today."

TIM: The Help was here. He was here. He was here. Could this day get any worse?

An ironic twist of fate it would be to ask that out loud.

Though, it gave him a bit of satisfaction to know that Steph had done her verbal damage. What he wouldn't give to know what kind of shit she spat at Ra's. She always was coming up with the good one-liners, he had to practice his in the mirror. Remembering that, remembering her, made his heart feel warm and heavy at the same time, tears starting to shine in his glaring eyes. Teeth clenched, holding back the waterworks for now. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction, not yet. Not until he knew she was safe, and she'd be free.

With reluctance, Tim got up and... Ugh, sat on the floor, at his next appointed target. His head hung low, the clear shame and fear finally slipping into his physical form, the barest shiver taking over his hands. He attempted to stop them, crossing them tight over his chest There was supposed to be a symbol there... oh right and trying to find his breath yet again. A dog, a pet, a bird in a cage. Steph would kill him for this, he was sure of it. Anyone in the family would, and for good reason.

He was right. He was doing the impossible.

RA'S: The boy could be so very well behaved, when properly motivated. Clearly his girlfriend beimg potentially blasted to kingdom come was more than adequate, because the boy hesitated only a moment before pushing himself out of the chair and sitting at his feet instead, head bowed low in shame. Hands shaking with fear, eyes shining with tears.

Ra's left the staff in his lap, reaching out to touch the boy at last, hand brushing at his hair like a dog to be rewarded. "Good." Already baring the back of his neck, like a good little prey animal.

"You know what my price is to let her go, little songbird. Can I assume by your being here that you're willing go pay it?"

TIM: It took all of his energy to not flinch at the fingers in his hair, the pure mess that came from wearing the cowl. This wasn't right, it was just like every other 'surprise' encounter, where he wanted to run in fear but stayed put like an idiot. Only... This wasn't a surprise. This was him, and he was finally giving the old bastard what he wanted. Direct, from the source. Oh god.

"Y-... Yes." Choking out the word felt like swallowing barbed wire, broken sobs that didn't dare escape his lungs frying his vocal chords. This was hard, but not hard enough. He'd made up his mind, she would be free, alive, even if it took his own. "Anything.... As long... As you accept my own terms in return."

Without much warning, his head snapped up again, a surge of fire lighting his eyes in a newfound wave of confidence. "If you're a bargaining man, take them: Steph goes free, you and your League leaves her, my family, and my friends the fuck alone, and I get one last message to send to J- Bruce.... Something to throw him off, no traceable IP, no post-data threads." A shaky breath let his shoulders drop again, eyes closing tight. Whatever. It. Takes. "Then... Then I'm yours." Never in a million years...

RA'S: Anything was such a powerful word, but not as powerful as yours. Ra's let out a pleased hum, considering the boy's requests--because that's what they were, of course. Tim had nothing to bargain with but his own compliance, now, and his current position was plenty enough to indicate how that would turn out.

"The girl will go free, and your family and friends will be left alone so long as you play your part," he agreed after a moment's thought, continuing to card his fingers through the boy's hair. "No message. Surely you don't believe me stupid enough to do that--with your computer skills and your family's knowledge of codes? No, no."

The boy would have to yield to whatever terms he laid out--he didn't have to cede anything at all, aside from Stephanie's survival, but a gesture of good faith couldn't go amiss. "Do we have an understanding?"

TIM: Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit.

He should've known that last request was a stretch. Something told him that if he'd been nicer gross that maybe he'd been more accepting of it. He hated the idea of that, hated everything about this. It was the only thing left he could do, he thought. Anything else would get him and anyone he loved in worse conditions than he'd want to see again. Too many deaths, too much blood. "Dad!!"

"Fine... Fine fine finefinefinefinefine." Annoyance laced every mumbled word, his previous grimace morphing into something a bit more dead, the only hint that he hadn't already given up being the wrinkles on the bridge of his nose where he scrunched it at the thought that he was quite literally handing himself over. At least it wasn't into the GCPD.... Nope. This was worse. Unfair comparison too.

Time for the magic words, building up as much composure as he could. His back went stiff, straight and stoic, sitting up as best as he could to try and endure the self-torture he was dealing out.

"I accept."

RA'S: There was no need to hide the smirk that rose this time, with the boy's reluctant assent, even though he straightened his back and tried to take it like a soldier. As if Bruce was watching, as if Bruce would care how the boy handed himself over when he was handing himself over. "Very good, Timothy."

He let Tim rest there at his feet for a moment before uncrossing his legs and nudging the boy up to his feet, following suit a moment later. His assassins appeared from their hiding places, and Ra's instructed a handful of them to go ensure that Stephanie was dropped off outside the gate to Wayne Manor. "As for you, Timothy, I have a car waiting to take us to the airstrip. You could use a vacation from the city, I'm sure." Vacation was hardly the right word, but the boy would catch his drift, regardless.

TIM: Don't treat me like a fuckin' dog. The words dared to escape, make themselves known, but he had to settle for speaking through his eyes. His jaw was clenched too tight to try forming words anyways, though through all the effort a single tear slipped past his iron-clad defenses, falling perpendicular to the deep line that framed the side of his face. Too many scars to try counting, and yet that one still burned, still reminded him of the shards of glass scoring his skin, a fight he'd thought he'd earned, a death he was too ready to accept. He'd saved Bruce's legacy. If only Dick hadn't been there to catch him, maybe this wouldn't have happened, maybe people would be safe from the curse of tragedy that followed him.

All Tim could do was follow his new orders in silence, standing with his eyes locked to the ground. At least he'd done what he needed to do. The Mission was complete, as far as he knew, with a few extra perks to boot. His Team was safe. His family wouldn't be bothered. Steph was alive. It's all he could ask for, anything after this didn't matter, clearly. This was his last Mission, his last stand as Red Robin...

Fuck that.

"I don't take vacations." The cold words finally came through, cracked and broken, his new-found emotions finally getting to him. Tim finally brought a covered palm up to swipe at the water stain on his skin, and got a terrible idea.

Being sneaky was always his favorite part of the job. Let's see if he could still even pull it off.

"Whatever..." Hands clenched behind his back, fingers made quick work of finding the one solid compartment that housed his gauntlet's computing processor. It took no time at all to find the microcontroller and crush the chip in his hand, the debris falling to the ground as soon as he opened his palm. It wasn't much, but it was something. If anything, it would hopefully look like a show of his new 'loyalty'. If anyone could find the near microscopic remains of Wayne-Tech chip work, it was his family. Maybe then they'd know how dangerous this situation was, if the fact that he didn't leave anything for them to track was any sort of hint. With his last little act of rebellion, he raised both hands, a light form of surrender.

"Let's just get this over with."

#discord tag tbd #「Asshole Number 1」- Ra’s Al Ghul

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shishidoryofan · 5 years

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In Laws

Dickkory Week ‘19 Day 2

It can be said that while Kory is living the dream of getting married, she did not care for work the people on Earth took in having that wedding.

Since they were two different planets with very two distinct values and cultures, Kory already knew that the wedding process here was going to be vastly different from Tamaran. While the ceremonies were somewhat similar, the majority of weddings on her home planet took no less than a couple of days to get prepared for, and the emphasis was placed more on the couple than the ceremony.

On Earth, most people had to start planning months in advance. For some, that was even years before they were officially married. There was the shopping of dresses and suits for not only future spouses, but the people attending the wedding also. She also found that that catering was a giant deal (had to accommodate for all guests) along with seating and music.

That was not even counting the work put into deciding where one wants to hold their wedding and planning the honeymoon that comes after.

Kory had lived on Earth for a few years now, so she was not ignorant in how western weddings were usually suppose to look like. She just honestly did not ever seeing herself foam at the mouth at the kind of dream wedding she had read and saw most brides cried over.

She would be just happy to get married to the person she loves the most in this universe.

The wedding planning stuff was pretty irrelevant to her.

Because of that attitude Kory had on weddings, all the classic planning was directed at Dick. He was very vocal on the kind of things he wanted at his- their wedding. He decided on the perfect season to get married (apparently June was very special for summer weddings); he decided on the food and how everything would be arranged. Dick even went out of his way to pay top line to have custom made wedding invitations passed to all their friends and family.

Kory was told by Donna a while back that technically it was some kind of non-written rule that the groom could not see the bride’s wedding dress until she was walking down the isle. Once again, Kory found it very silly, but nevertheless, she had planned to go through with it.

However, that did not stop Dick from trying to suggest ideas to her on certain wedding dresses that he absolutely loved. Kory would say yes to all of them because his suggestions were very gorgeous, but each time, one of their friends would tell Dick to stop and that it was Kory’s choice.

Dick could not stop it though. Her finance was totally in love with his ideas on his dream wedding. He had told Kory stories his parents told him about the day they got married. He had that glistening look in his eyes when he told her about his parents would tell him that their wedding was one of the best days of their lives, next to his birth of course.

Dick just wanted to create a similar moment for himself.

Kory was okay with that, but Donna and Rachel fussed at him for even recommending dresses that were almost all over 12K. It was not the fact that they did not have the money for it, but Kory agreed that spending that much money on a dress (that was more important to Dick than her honestly) was probably not the best option.

But they still had to figure out the wedding.

So that is how Kory found herself staying (more like dragged away) at Wayne Manor for a week. Dick had asked Alfred and Barbara on what to do for catering and desserts, while Kory was stuck as a taste tester. If Kory had to be true to herself, despite being familiar with Dick’s life in Gotham and the family he grew up, Kory never cared for Gotham herself.

She did when she first arrived on Earth, but the glamour quickly came off once she knew the true dark nature of Gotham.

Kory worked better with the Titans and the Justice League. Gotham, and the vigilantes that came with it was not a place she felt completely comfortable with. Sure, she worked with a lot of Gotham’s heroes, but Kory would claim that came with being a superhero.

It was not until Alfred regularly served her tea and scones; not until Dick got pulled into a case with Bruce and Kory was allowed into the Bat Cave that she realized that she was slowly being treated as part of “their” family. A family she never really cared if she was a part of as long as she could keep her relationship with Dick Grayson.

That was until she had to deal with Bruce, or Batman.

She has always been very neutral with Bruce. Overall, she did not have a big problem with him, but Kory was very critical on the way Bruce treated Dick in the past. Being in the Titans changed Dick for the good, but that could not erase the years of being in Bruce’s care.

While Bruce allowed her to stay at Wayne Manor; while he allowed her to knew family secrets and stay in in the Bat Cave, he was very clear to her that he really did not want her patrolling Gotham with them. He held the belief that they could handle everything with those with superpowers.

Kory wanted to fight him on that, but Dick just got in the middle of them and said that they would call if he needed back up.

They did not call for help. Bruce had brought Dick home with a shot to the leg and unconscious from tear gas.

“You were suppose to protect him! Why is he more hurt than you?!” Kory had yelled at Bruce while Alfred held her back.

“Let’s not talk about this now.” Bruce did not look up at her as he said it. He kept all his attention towards her injured fiancé.

“IS IT BECAUSE I AM AN ALIEN?! IS THAT WHY YOU NEVER LET SUPERMAN HELP YOU?!” Kory knew that using starbolts was too much, but she really wished that Alfred would let her kick him.

Bruce did not say anything. He simply turned around and left, leaving Alfred alone to handle Dick.

♣♣♣

Alfred had said that Dick’s injury was nothing serious, but he would need a knee brace and crunches for almost a month. He also had her help him to his room so that he could rest on his bed.

Kory just took all this information in as she took her new spot seated next to Dick. She wanted to be there when he woke up. She wanted to be there if he was aching anywhere.

In her mind, one of her thoughts were if Dick was going to delay the wedding now that he had gotten a serious injury. Once again, Kory personally did not care (she would married him at this exact spot if he woke up and ask her to), but she knew how important it was to Dick to have his dream wedding. Recovering from a gun shot was probably not on his list of things to take care of for his dream wedding.

As Kory’s mind continue to wonder, she heard the bedroom door open, she quickly turned her head to see Bruce standing there. He looked physically drained, hurt.

As Bruce walked towards the bed, she heard him ask “How is Dick?”

“Alfred said it was nothing major. He should be waking up soon, but…but he will be very limited with his right leg for a while.” Kory folded her arms as she directed all of her attention back to Dick. She was no longer mad at Bruce anymore. She just wanted Dick to wake up.

“Have you two planned where you want to go for the honeymoon?”

That was a weird question to ask. Kory did not picture Bruce as one being particularly interested in their wedding, but she understood that maybe he was trying to make small talk.

“Dick said he wanted both the wedding and honeymoon in Honolulu.” Kory felt awkward as she told him this. “Donna keeps arguing with him that he should save Honolulu for just the honeymoon.”

“I see.”

There was more awkward silence. The silence stayed like that until Dick started moaning and turning his head. That was a sign that he will be soon awakening.

Bruce took a step back. He starred at Kory who had part of her attention towards Dick, and the other half trying to focus on what Bruce was about to do.

He gave her a half smile, not one to show that he was happy, but the one people gave to another person to show them that everything will be okay.

“When this wedding thing is over. I want you two to take a whole month off.” Bruce said as he started walking towards the door. “Make him give you his undivided attention the whole time.”

The door shut.

Three minutes later, Dick Grayson had slowly awakened and Kory could not stop herself from almost smothering him with a giant bear hug. “Honey! You’re up!”

Dick did not say anything back, but the weak smile he gave her was enough for Kory. She moved her head slightly so that she could kiss both of his cheeks.

The day of their wedding, Bruce walked up to her to remind her that he was serious on what he said. He told Kory that he wanted to them to spend as much time together as possible, not as Starfire or Nightwing, but as Koriand’r and Dick Grayson.

Kory only nodded in return before Dick pulled her away.

Maybe having Bruce Wayne as an In-Law was not going to be so bad.

The End.

#this was going to be way longer #but i really wanted to post it before the day was over #dickkory #dickkori #dick grayson #starfire #dickkory week #fic

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thathalloweengal · 5 years

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Christmas Eve at Wayne Manor (fanfic)

Bruce Wayne threw another log on the fire, it crackled angrily at him but its warmth soothed his weary bones. It was Christmas Eve and the newly renovated Wayne Manor had been decorated thoroughly, bright red and gold tinsel was draped from the oak staircase, a massive fern tree stood tall in the lounge and hundreds of tiny multicolored lights were hanging everywhere. The coffee table even had freshly baked cookies on it, still warm from the oven and spreading the smell of cinnamon throughout the house.

Bruce had one hell of a night, some idiot with powers called Gentleman Ghost decided to hold Mayor Grange and some city council members to ransom. When Bruce got the call it seemed like a cake walk but he didn't expect some damn councilman to be in on it. One maniac in a pig mask, two stab wounds and a pair of bruised ribs later, Bruce felt far older than he was. Ten years ago he would have been ready for them. The two newcomers to Gotham would have been taken down by what onlookers would only be able to describe as some kind of Bat demon, instead of that fifty year old playing dress up with kevlar.

"A dollar for your thoughts, Master Wayne?"

Not for the first time in his career, Alfred Pennyworth cut through Bruce's self criticism.

"Maybe when I was a kid, my thoughts are a little more expensive now"

"Damn inflation rates" Alfred sighed, sitting down in a nearby recliner and nursing a glass of what was probably cognac

"The guests should be arriving shortly" Alfred said after a moment

"Yeah they should be, you did a great job with all this by the way" Bruce nodded at the decorations and the tree

"Thank you sir, between being tactical support and stitching up near fatal wounds, I too believe that my calling lies in holiday planning"

"You didn't do it, did you?"

"Unfortunately I did not have the time but Mr. Allen thankfully stepped into my shoes"

"That kid's got a lot of heart" Bruce smiled

"Makes one remember brighter Christmases, doesn't it? I just wish he'd stop calling me Elfred"

"I always wanted you to have an irritating nickname" Bruce giggled

"Well bully for you sir, I suppose you are absolutely elated with Master Allen's choice for you?"

The look of confusion on Bruce's face prompted Alfred's reply "Bat Dad"

Bruce grimaced on the outside but deep down kept a slight warm feeling of contentment to himself, it had been a long time since anyone thought of him as a father figure.

"Any luck finding Curry?" Bruce asked

"Won't answer any communications but satellites have pinpointed him in a large stretch of ocean, near where the legendary city of Atlantis was once alleged to stand"

"More turkey for us" Bruce dismissed

A bolt of blue lightning sped into the room, carrying Barry Allen along it, he was wearing a sweater with a half eaten gingerbread man on it.

"Speaking of turkey, I don't know if you guys know this but I'm a vegetarian"

"Your dietary needs have already been catered for, Mr. Allen"

"You're awesome, Elfred"

Alfred rolled his eyes and took a long sip of cognac. Bruce decided to give his old friend a break from the young speedster by bringing back a Wayne family tradition.

"Barry, would you mind heading over to the cave and picking up the package beside the car?"

"The Batmobile?" Barry beamed

"The Batmobile" Bruce confirmed with a reassuring smile

Barry was gone in a flash, back into his blue lightning and out of the room. A few moments later he reappeared with a large crate as tall as he was, it had his lightning symbol on it.

"What is this?" Barry asked, slightly concerned

"Only one way to find out"

Barry raced around the crate, unbuckling straps and somehow removing screws, before finally removing the cover. Inside was a new costume, something that Bruce had his company create as a gift to Barry. Its design was much more refined than the current costume and had cutting edge Wayne Tech inside.

"Early present" Bruce explained

In the blink of an eye, Barry changed into the costume. It looked impressive on him, more like high tech armor than something someone had lovingly thrown together from NASA's dumpster. It's finish was a darker shade of red than Barry had previously sported and small holographic displays were already updating him on crimes around the city.

"Holy crap, this is so cool"

Barry superspeeded Bruce into a hug before saying something that sounded like:

"I'mGonnaTakeItForATestRunThanksBatDad"

Another blink and the blue lightning had once more carried Barry out of the room and through the front doors. Alfred smirked.

"That should keep him busy for at least a few minutes"

"Been getting under your feet?"

"Like you wouldn't believe, you are aware that he moved in upstairs?"

"Who do you think gave him the room"

Alfred chuckled a little before becoming a little more reserved.

"Does he know about the..."

Bruce cut Alfred off, immediately shaking his head, a matter of importance lay in the air between them.

"I wanted everyone to know" Bruce said softly "I'll tell them tonight"

Three knocks at the front door cut through their conversation.

"More of your unruly children, I think" Alfred grinned

Bruce got to his feet as Alfred topped up his cognac with a bottle from a nearby cabinet. Bruce pulled a massive door open to be greeted by a gust of cold wind, Clark Kent, Martha Kent and Lois Lane. Bruce took their coats and led them over to a sofa. He poured Lois and Martha drinks from the cabinet, Clark asked if he could get some hot cocoa instead, which Alfred kindly obliged, rising from his recliner and making his way into the kitchen.

"How's Perry doing?" Bruce asked, Lois and Clark's boss was an old acquaintance of his

"Same as always this time of year" Lois answered, taking a sip of her beverage "Santa hat on, singing Christmas songs older than the building, it's adorable"

"He's also very generous" Martha added

"But only to this one" Lois squeezed Clark's hand "He got the highest bonus that Perry has ever given anyone"

Bruce raised an eyebrow and Clark blushed.

"I don't think our cover story of how Clark Kent and Superman died around the same time and came back around the same time but definitely aren't the same person washes with Perry"

"He's too good of a reporter" Bruce replied

"We talking about the same Perry White that buries stories because they're too quote un quote invigorating for our readers" Clark spoke up

"Well he used to be a good reporter" Bruce said sheepishly "He rumbled me as the Bat a couple of days after he met me for an interview"

"How did you handle that?"

"Ever wonder how the Planet stays afloat despite hemorrhaging subscriptions and sales?"

The two reporters froze, no doubt wondering if Perry was blackmailing him or if Bruce was lying. It was unlikely that they knew they were talking to the secret owner of the Daily Planet.

Another knock to the door provided Bruce with the perfect moment to leave the three. Opening the door, once more, he found Diana arm in arm with a woman who must've been at least seven feet tall, they were both wearing stunning dresses. Bruce showed them inside and over to the Kents. Diana explained that her companion was called Mala, she was an Amazon and had just been exiled from their Island. They went back a very long time together and were now picking up their relationship.

Bruce had never seen Diana so happy, she was absolutely gleaming with joy, holding her partner's hand and joining in with the rest of them laughing at Clark's hot cocoa mustache.

A flash of blue lightning returned to the room, dropping off Victor Stone and Victor's father Silas.

"Look who I found outside" Barry announced, trying to hide his broken holographic displays and partially destroyed costume from Bruce

With one more flash, Barry changed back into his gingerbread man sweater and jeans. Bruce made a mental note to ask him about his misadventure later, but for the time being simply hugged Victor and shook Silas's hand, before pouring them out drinks.

The holiday party started well enough, Barry and Victor were talking about video games, Lois and Clark were sharing incredible "How we met" stories with Diana and Mala, and the sounds of jingle bell rock played throughout the old house. Bruce hadn't seen it this alive and full of love since his parents were there.

Bruce felt himself slipping into the past, he could almost hear his father telling him that he could open one present early. Feeling a little overcome with emotion, Bruce put on his coat and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and to calm his nerves.

Bruce wanted nothing more than to be back inside, be with this new family he had helped create, but he knew that he would have to leave them soon enough. Why prolong the inevitable. Over the last five years, he had been through a lot, both mentally and physically. Jason's death, the fallout from the battle of Metropolis, his obsessive crusade against Clark and all of the guilt that followed after. Even helping to kill monsters like Luthor's creature and Steppenwolf didn't alleviate the demons and the damage inside Bruce.

The situation was made even worse by the fact that In the last couple of years Bruce found himself having nightmares, very real feeling nightmares. They'd always start differently, sometimes on a ruined Earth with soldiers wearing Superman's symbol, other times in an alley with Bruce himself snapping the Joker's neck. These dreams would have him being captured or buried alive or even breathing in the Joker's poison. They always ended the same way, regardless of if it was Clark, Joker or some mad man claiming to be his own father, Bruce would always be too slow, too beat up, too arrogant, Bruce always died.

Before he woke from these dreams though, Bruce would have a vision of Barry. Not the Barry currently in Wayne Manor, dancing terribly to the music of George Michael but an older, more tired looking Barry. He always gave advice and warnings before leaving. Advice that had helped calm Clark when he was brought back to life. He told Bruce that Lois was the key, had he not done that, Bruce expected things would have gone much worse than they did. Occasionally Barry yelled about being in the middle of a Crisis, about needing to correct something called a fractured timeline and told Bruce to be prepared for worse days to come.

These dreams and every night he patrolled Gotham convinced Bruce that he was seriously incapable of dealing with whatever the future held. Tomorrow as his friends celebrated, he would be on a plane to a city called Nanda Parbat, where he would seek the mythical Lazarus Pit it was infamous for. He hoped that it could heal his body and purge his soul of the pain that weighed him down.

Most people who looked for the Pit died climbing the mountain that hid the city, those who survived disappeared, never to be heard from again. That didn't put Bruce off however, he had inside information that the Pit lay somewhere within the palace of the Sensai, the ancient leader of Nanda Parbat. Bruce's only problems were getting to it through an entire league of assassins and any side effects the Pit might cause him. The only person he knew who had done this before wasn't exactly the picture of sanity, of course neither was Bruce.

"Only you would brood at Christmas" teased a voice approaching him through the snow

Holding a small stack of presents, Commissioner Jim Gordon smiled comfortingly at Bruce.

"Sorry I'm late, some damn fool decided to save the Mayor and tie me up in paperwork and reporters"

"Sounds like a real hero type" Bruce replied "A billionaire playboy like myself wouldn't know anything about that"

Bruce couldn't keep a straight face, Bruce and Jim embraced and kissed. His lips were chapped and he tasted of tobacco but it was Bruce's favorite feeling. When they seperated, Jim looked like something was troubling him.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked

"I was just wondering, will this be the last time we do that?"

"Hopefully not" Bruce said playfully but Jim looked somber

"I know that you have to go, that for you to stay fighting in a world of super crazies you need this elixir of mumbo jumbo, but I worry"

"That I'll come back different?"

"That you won't come back at all" Jim said, sadly "Bruce I care about you, I don't want you to end up dead in some snowy hell hole"

"Good thing I'm Batman then" Bruce said, taking Jim's hand in his own "One thing you can count on in Gotham, even a small time crook could tell you, when Jim Gordon stands on top of Police HQ and lights that big Signal up, the Batman comes running, might take him a while to get there but he'll always show up"

Jim looked like he was trying to suppress a smile but it quickly broke through.

"What will we do without you?"

"Oh I'm sure you'll cope for a while but just in case I did ask Dick to look in on you from time to time"

"You two are talking again?"

"I know it's a Christmas miracle" Bruce chuckled

"I'll keep your damn oversized nightlight running" Jim agreed "Might scare some superstitious cowards"

Hearing a commotion inside, Bruce and Jim glanced through one of the windows. Barry had supersped an Elf hat onto a sleeping Alfred, Diana was dancing with Martha Kent and Clark and Victor were playing Twister, though Bruce wasn't sure who brought it, Mala and Lois were refereeing.

"You going in?" Jim asked "I've always wanted to meet Superman" he grinned cheekily

"Only if you're my plus one" Bruce said, more cheesily than he had originally hoped

Bruce walked back into Wayne Manor, Jim close by his side. Bruce had no idea what Nanda Parbat would do to him but for now at least he was content sipping tea, giving presents and sharing this night with the people he cared for most.

#Batman #Bruce Wayne #Christmas Eve #Barry Allen #The Flash #Alfred Pennyworth #Christmas #DCEU #Worlds of DC #Superman #Wonder Woman #Jim Gordon

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lizartgurl · 6 years

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These Were The Moments Never To Be Forgotten... [My Young Justice Secret Santa fic for @fight-me-boi]

So I am a terrible person for getting this done so late, but it’s not New Year’s yet! @fight-me-boi, I was your Secret Santa this year. I had a lot of fun with your ideas and I wanted to include as many as possible, which ended up not happening. But I still loved writing this [Fluff, morning routine, bonding, day-off-ish], and I hope that you love reading this too.

*takes place druing the five years in-between seasons one and two*

Dick loved sleeping over at the cave.

It was noisy when he woke up, compared to just him, Bruce, and Jason in separate rooms of a Manor a mile long. At the cave, Gar, Wally, and Jason would try to see who could get up earliest and choose which video game to play before the others woke up.

This tirade of competition and friendly insults- directed either at the competitors or the choice of game being played- served as the soundtrack for everyone else as they were awakened, and filed into the kitchen for breakfast.

Alfred made incredible meals, of that there was no doubt. But Dick loved being able to pitch in and help M'gann and everyone else make breakfast. It was like another team exercise, only much more delicious.

Then the guys would all jockey for a position at the sink or the showers, while the girls took things in a much more organized way, passing the toothpaste and brushing each other’s hair.

Maybe it was a guy thing, but Nightwing enjoyed the organized chaos the could never come within a mile radius of the Bat-Cave. Articles of clothing strewn over the back of the couch. Dishes left in the sink with the empty promise of loading the dishwasher later. Gobs of toothpaste littering the sink. Video cases and game consoles somehow winding up in the garage with the spare parts for the motorcycles, and the pencils used for schoolwork mysteriously disappearing into thin air.

(Dick solved that particular mystery a month ago- Wolf was hoarding all the pencils to make his puppies pay attention to him).

After breakfast came the actual training exercise, whether in uniform or workout clothes. Black Canary worked them to the bone, but at least that was better than Batman's glare of disapproval when Wally proved severely disappointing in tactics.

Martian Manhunter taught disguise. Superman's training sessions were just him telling them a story about some old couple he met while on hero-duty as a reminder to be compassionate to the people they saved (Connor decked anyone who talked during Superman’s stories).

Artemis and Rocket had been disappointed at first when Wonder Woman said she wasn't there to teach them secret Amazonian fighting tips, but everyone found her lessons on world culture fascinating, and certainly more informative than anything they learned in Public School Social Studies.

And then after training, if there were no crises that needed to be handled by an undercover covert ops team of extremely volatile meta-teens, the team hit the harbor.

Hoodies and shades all around, they looked like a gang until they walked into the fifties dinner and ordered about a dozen milkshakes with fries to dip in them.

They were probably the only reason that the Bowl-r-Rama was still in business at the time. twice a week almost twenty teenagers trooped into the building still stuck in the sixties, playing the Jackson Five as Mal shot a strike down the center of his alley, to be promptly rewarded by a kiss from Karen. At which Megan would cover Gar’s eyes to protect his innocence, even though everyone knew she and Connor were just as bad. Chuckling, Dick covered Jason’s eyes, just to make it equal for the two boys.

Babs and Artemis would tease the two of them as they hopped up next, signature yellow and green balls in hand, just before Kal’s cell went off, and everyone would groan.

Mission.

“He promised that there wouldn’t be a mission today!” Wally whined, yanking his jacket on.

“Since when does the world stay saved for very long,” Raquel grinned.

With the growth of the team, it was rare to have all team members aboard the bioship at once. It was quite unnecessary to have such a big team, and the load slowed down the bioship considerably. Still, it was more fun to go on a mission all together, all cozy and close in their seats, and Nightwing found the backup and security extremely comforting.

Still, no matter how many members went out, someone always came back with some sort of injury.

Aqualad would berate himself for getting injured, they always would in one way or another, but with their leader, everyone seemed to notice it a bit more.

Dick was just grateful that no one had died. Gar ignored M’gann’s pleas to stay in bed and rest up, but he insisted on getting better. He wouldn’t let that happen to him again. He would train harder, get better, get faster.

Dick watched and shook his head from the shadows of the training room as the green boy hit and kicked at thin air, his injuries throwing him off-balance.

“Your form is off,” Piped a voice that always seemed to be carrying anger. Jason- Robin to everyone but Rick and Babs- stepped out of the hall.

The two were the youngest on the team, Jason a year Garfield’s senior. They were just barely allowed to go on missions, but the argument stood that experience was one of the best ways to train.

Gar pretended that he hadn’t been holding back tears. “What?” He asked.

“You’re unbalanced. Upset.”

“How would you know. You’re so mad all the time.” Beast Boy pointed out.

“Yeah,” Jason snorted, owning the fact, “But Batman’s teaching me to center my anger, to focus, and use it, not to let it distract me from the fight.”

“Huh.” Gar had run out of comebacks.

The angry boy walked up to the green boy, positioning his arms and legs just so.

“Center yourself,” He repeated. Dick chuckled softly to himself, detecting a hint of gruffness in the boy’s voice that mimicke Bruce’s. No matter how much the second Robin pouted about Batman, he really looked up to the dark knight.

He left the two swinging fists and grunting, heading for the kitchen, where he found smoke, and the circle of his closest friends.

“Should we let Gar go on missions anymore?” M’gann asked, her voice a high-pitched squeak as she pulled her fifth tray of burnt cookies out of the oven. “I know he has powers, but he’s so young, he’s so untrained-”

“He’s learning, though,” Wally pointed out, absentmindedly gnawing a lump that was supposed to resemble chocolate-chip.

“But the question still remains; is there an age limit, despite training or prowess or experience, that should keep people from joining missions?

“I am not saying that it should prohibit anyone from joining the team. They can join and we can train them until an appropriate age, without sending them out into the field.” Kaldur clarified.

“Are we really going to be raising a bunch of child soldiers?” Artemis asked, thoroughly soaking her cookie in a glass of milk.

“You guys know Gar won’t like it if we try to make him stay behind while we go off on a mission. And Robin would be even worse.” Connor pointed out.

“And you’re forgetting something very important,” Nightwing strode across the room, stroking an invisible beard on his clean-shaven beard.

“And what would that be, o wise one?” Wally asked sarcastically.

Dick grinned as he sipped his glass of milk. “You guys do remember how we started this whole thing, right?”

Kaldur sighed, and Wally grinned half-heartedly.

“By denying a bunch of authority figures, we know,” Zatanna said, lounged across the couch reading a book, appearing as if she wasn’t paying attention.

Dick nodded to the oven, just in time for M’gann to take out her first perfect batch of the day.

“If we keep Gar and Jason from missions, they might do the same to us.”

“So we keep them with us, where we can keep an eye on them.” M’gann said.

Raquel sat up, pointing her cookie at the Martian. “Okay, now you’re starting to sound like the League.”

M’gann clasped a hand over her mouth, a faint pink blush coloring her cheeks as she smiled sheepishly.

“I guess, now I know what Uncle J’onn feels, having the responsibility of taking care of someone else on your shoulders.”

“We all do,” Artemis sighed loudly. Try as they might, no one could resist becoming protective of Beast Boy, Robin, or even the two partners of Captain Marvel, who showed up maybe once a month to help out if it was really necessary.

The eight looked at each other with wide eyes at the realization for a long moment, before bursting into laughter.

“Fate, we’re old.” Wally said, shoving three more burnt cookies into his mouth.

Dick nudged his best friend.

“Just wait ‘til we’re in college.”

#young justice #secret santa #lizart writes #nightwing #beast boy #miss martian #artemis #aqualad #superboy #kid flash

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hellsbellssinclub · 6 years

Text

Broken Nest for Broken Birds. Part 3

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3

Read it on AO3

Summary:

Dick Grayson. Jason Todd. Timothea Drake. Stephanie Brown. Damian Wayne.

All five were Batman’s birds. All five are broken in their own little ways.

Bruce Wayne struggles to keep his family together while keeping his more volatile children calm and feeling secure within their place in the family. But that is not an easy thing to do when you have five young adults with all very different needs that demand to be met and when you have your own issues to deal with.

*Follows the different Robin’s and Bat’s stream of consciousness as they deal with their day to day lives and try to figure out how to be a family together.*

Part 3. Dick Grayson. Age 22.

Unresponsive. Broken like a marionette puppet without her strings. Timmy looked like she has watched a world implode and she could have done nothing to save it while she sat in a space shuttle, safely away from the blast zone.

He should have been there, seeing Timmy home after they had been on patrol together with B. He should have made sure she was safe and well and that she had not been alone, especially after Bruce gave her that lecture and half about safety and not taking risks.

But he had left her. Gone and followed Bruce’s Orders once again and now he was looking down at the broken and exhausted face of the girl who was his baby sister. It wasn’t hard to imagine her on the ground, head twisted in an unnatural angle with blood around her head like a fucked-up halo.

He let her fall. He didn’t catch her. He wasn’t there to catch her. He had gone back to the cave like a good little Robin because he was Ordered to and now…

Dick felt lost as to what to do. He had failed another sibling. He was a terrible big brother. First Jason and now Timothea. She hasn’t spoken a word since she finished screaming and was she would only drink the tea that Dick had Alfred make, the one that Jason suggested before he took off on his bike, when Dick placed the cup against her lips. He wished he could be there alongside Jason. Away from the Manor and away from the biting feeling in the back of his throat that this was his fault for not being there with Timmy when she had finished patrol.

Timmy wasn’t doing anything much now that she stopped screaming her lungs out. Just breathing little choked and wet sobs under her breath. No more tears. She was still shaking and giving full body shudders as if she was in a snowstorm or the biting rain that Gotham has in winter time. Shock, most likely. Or the grief. Timmy wasn’t that close to her Dad or Step Mum but Dick knew she loved them. Seeing them dead like that… no child should ever see their parents like that. It is mentally scaring and destroying.

He should know. He still hasn’t gotten over his parents. Neither has Bruce or anyone else he knows who have found or saw their parents get killed. The Superhero community is full of heroes who have lost their parents or watched them get murdered. They even had made different clubs so that people could go and talk about their trauma and shit.

Not that any of the other Bats have ever gone to one of those clubs. Bruce is too fucking scared to admit his trauma of seeing his parents get shot when he was eight and is always high-key terrified that someone is going to turn on him because his Post-Traumatic Hypervigilance makes him to paranoid to trust anyone with his feelings. Jason was still on the outs with pretty much everyone. No one was sure how to approach the former dead Robin and he wasn’t inclined to go to any of the clubs anyway. Jay never had been in his first life and the sentiment was the same in this one too.

Dick had gone once, when he was still Robin. He didn’t go back again for another meeting. He never wanted to talk about what happened with his parents and looking back he probably should have tried. Really, he blames Bruce for his lack of healthy coping skills because all he ever learned really while living in the Manor was that unless it was all about to explode and end up with him hurting himself or someone else than Bruce was going to avoid the hell out everything and pretend that it was all normal.

And Timmy, poor little Timmy never qualified for any of them before now. She was as normal as one could possibly get before all this. She was just an average kid who wanted to do some good and she did. But at what cost? She lost all three of her parents, has been shot, stabbed and has nearly been murdered so many times in the past three years and Dick wanted nothing more than to go back in time and to tell the small girl who had come up to him with hopeful eyes that she should get lost and forget everything. That it wasn’t worth it at all.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t. Besides all of the time related bullshit that would go with changing the timeline, Dick was selfish enough to say that he did not want to let the young girl go at all. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her and Jason to get along and for them to both be siblings without having to fear that Jason’s Pit Madness or whatever it was didn’t flare up and he wanted for Bruce to be surrounded by everyone who cares for him.

If wishes were fishes Dick would be able to open his fish market and make a lot of money, that was for sure.

Running a wet, warm cloth over Timmy’s face only got him a blink or two. She wasn’t reacting to anyone now. She just sat there, in the blood-stained clothes Bruce all but wrangled her into before the cops arrived at her house. She needed to change. To get out of the bloody mess and into something clean.

“Okay Tiny-Tim. Let’s get you out of these clothes and into the shower.” He doesn’t speak loudly, not wanting to startle the young girl out of whatever shock she was in.

The lights are on but no one is currently home in Timmy’s mind right now. Looks like they are just going to have to call back later it seems. She wasn’t reacting or moving on her own. With the help of Bruce and Alfred, Dick was able to strip her out of her clothes and get her into the shower. There were wounds, fresh and painfully wounds all over her pale body. Some must have been from patrol because the stitches on her hips looked fresh and painful. And broken. He would need to fix that.

He knew that Tim’s team was downstairs and that Oracle had called them all as soon as the call came through that all the Drakes were dead. He knew that they were all there and were all waiting desperately to see Timmy. But Dick didn’t want them near her. She was fragile and needed to be handled with care. He knew that they all just wanted to help her and that was good. The overwhelming need to comfort a friend in need is what makes them all good people. Makes them the caring and thoughtful heroes they are.

But Timmy didn’t need any of them right now. She didn’t need them crowding her or being in her space. She needed family. She needed Dick and Bruce and Alfred and Jason when he has calmed down and maybe Cass and Steph because they were all family and that was all Timmy needed.

He knows he should not be thinking like that. Possessiveness was a terrible trait that he needs to let go of but it is hard, so very hard not to kick everyone out of the Manor and keep Timmy safe and isolated away from anything that could harm her. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts and he knows, he really does know, that these thoughts only happen because he lost Jay and he doesn’t know how to deal with that guilt even now that Jay was alive and here with them and-

And he needed to calm down. He needed to stop and think and act like Nightwing, the leader and big brother. He cannot afford to act like Dick Grayson here. Dick Grayson was a human disaster and won’t be able to help his sister right now if he starts acting like a self-centred idiot.

Still, looking down at her all but hanging loosely in his arms as he dried her off and sat her down on the large tub so that Alfred could redo those broken stitches, Dick just couldn’t help those feelings of possessiveness overwhelm him. And by the look on Bruce’s face, he was feeling it too.

Timmy was their Baby Bird. The one the adored and wanted to protect all the time because she was just so weak and small and Dick knew in his head that she was a force to be reckoned with these days and that she was well on her way to becoming an A list hero.

But in his heart, he still saw her as the baby faced little twelve-year-old girl who he taught how to throw a decent punch. She was the little sister he had always wanted when he was younger and still with the circus. He adored her and loved her completely.

And he did know that some of that love came from guilt. Guilt that he hadn’t been the best big brother he could have been to Jason because he had been angry at Bruce at the time. He had been so angry that Bruce had taken his Mother’s name for him and had given it to Jason without his permission that he had taken it out on Jason, rather than Bruce. And after their first and terrible meeting, Dick had known that he had forever fucked up his and Jay’s relationship.

If he had not have died, Dick believes that they may have eventually gotten along properly. That they would have worked something out. But Jason died and then he had a small, excited child who looked up to him and he couldn’t, wouldn’t let himself fuck it up like he did with Jason.

So, Nightwing became the always the cool, calm guy who is everyone’s big brother. At least to the younger generation that is. To his own team and friends, he was allowed to be a normal person with normal emotional outbursts. But since taking on being the younger teams ‘den mother’ and all-round mentor and big brother to Timmy, he has forced himself to be this person that doesn’t get angry easily.

Which is you know, absolute bullshit. Everyone calls Jason the Angry Robin but anyone with half a brain knows that Dick is the Angry Robin. The Robin that rages and explodes and leaves a trail of destruction in his wake. At least Jay has a reason for his anger. The Pit fucks with people’s minds and the trauma he went through with dying really did give Jaybrid a reason to lash out. Dick just gets angry and fucks shit up before someone calms him down.

He knew that Timmy didn’t feel like they loved her, especially since taking Jason back in. But they did love her. They love how she stumbled down in the morning after a long case or patrol and would look at them sleepily before stealing Bruce’s coffee. They loved how she would get excited about small little things and would ramble on and on until she blushes and stops because she realises that she is still talking. They love her enthusiasm and joy and how brilliant she is.

They love her. All of them do.

And watching her sit numbly on the edge of the bath, barely twitching or moving as the stiches go through her skin, broke their hearts.

One of them would have go downstairs soon and tell Timmy’s team to go home for the night and come back tomorrow evening. They needed to get some clothes for Timmy for the next few days, seeing as she only had over night clothes in the Manor. Bruce needed to send a few messages to his lawyers about getting custody of Tim.

There was so, so much that needed to be done. And Dick didn’t want to leave Tim’s side at all. His Baby Bird was hurt and needed help and the guilt was just eating him inside, telling him that it was his fault that she had to face this alone when he could have been there with her but he had not and-

And he would not be any help his sister, father, brother or grandfather if he let himself fall apart right now. There was work to be done and the quicker he gets it done, the easier it would be on all of them.

He may have given Jay three days to go and find out what he could but Dick would be damned if he doesn’t go out and help the younger man search. With the rage and guilt rising like bile in the back of his throat, Dick could say honestly that he was looking forward to beating some heads in. And to leaving the oppressive atmosphere of grief and pain that was seeping into the Manor’s walls.

But that will wait. Right now, there are jobs to be done. The jobs won’t ease the guilt or rage like a good ass kicking would, but they were necessary and needed. Alfred and Bruce can look after Timmy for a few hours or so while he does these few jobs.

He isn’t running away.

(He isn’t.)

#Broken Nest for Broken Birds #hellsbells wrote something!!!#batman #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #red hood #batman fic

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