#bruce scolding his children: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? DO YOU REALIZE HOW RIDICULOUS YOU WERE TONIGHT??

[fanaticalthings]

It would be so fucking funny if whenever Bruce even slightly pisses off one of his kids, they start leaving flyers for nursing homes around the manor for him to find.

[Bruce, even slightly raising his voice]: Wh-

Batkids: You better watch that tone young man before we throw your ass into a nursing home.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Seven minutes of truth and dare

Summary>  You and Pietro have been friends since elementary school. On his 18th birthday, you try to socialize with his twin sister, Wanda Maximoff, who never seemed to like you very much.

Warnings> (implied) Enemies to Lovers/ Fluff and Smut/ Vaginal Fingering/ Boys Kissing/ Girls Kissing/ Underage Drinking/ 18+/ implicit sex/ swearing

Words>  3734k (Oneshot)

Read on AO3 

It took little time to get to Maximoff's house, considering that you had to walk to the residence, since your ride - Natasha Romanoff, best friend, currently on the run together with her boyfriend Bruce Banner - just stood up to you. You were lucky to live only a few blocks away.

The noise of the party could already be heard from around the corner, and you wondered how long it would take for one of the neighbors to call the police. At least it was the weekend, and you remembered that Pietro had commented that the Parkers would be traveling on their honeymoon, being the only neighbors of the house. Pietro was always lucky for things like this.

When you finally arrived at the house, the sound of some electronic music was much louder. You greeted a few people with a nod, the vast majority classmates, who were actually more Pietro's friends than yours, and then you went inside. 

The Maximoff residence was very nice, but at this moment it was full of teenagers drinking and dancing, many glasses and bottles lying on the floor. 

 Looking for Pietro, you found him upside down, drinking directly from a beer tank that was set up in the outside yard past the kitchen. You frowned slightly, hoping your friend didn't have an alcoholic coma, as you walked up to the group of teenagers who cheered and encouraged the challenge.

When he finished, the two boys holding him by the ankles helped him to balance again, laughing and patting Pietro on the back. Your friend staggered a bit, but then he saw you, flashing a smile before hugging you.

- You stink, birthday boy. - You teased, and Pietro just rolled his eyes humorously.

- You took your time. - He remarks as you release from your embrace. You shrug.

- You know this isn't my thing. - You remark, referring to the party. Pietro smiles.

- Yes, yes. But I'm glad you're here. - He replies and then takes your hands, lifting them a little and looking down your entire body. - And look at you, you even dressed up to come! Are you trying to have sex with someone?

You laughed, letting go of Pietro's hands to push him gently, which made Pietro laugh too. Soon you were surrounded by other friends, but not being very good with crowds, you said you were going to get something to drink before you left.

In the kitchen, you tried to find something that didn't have alcohol in it. You ended up grabbing one of the bottles of soda from the refrigerator, hoping that none of the Maximoffs would mind.

Someone changed the music and turned up the sound, so you heard the excited shouts of several people, who began to move into the room and dance around each other. You laughed at the image, walking upstairs.

A few people were scattered on this floor, mostly trying to smoke pot in hiding, or to have some privacy from the noise. A few others were just making out in the corners. You walked to Pietro's room, checking his present in your pocket.

He would be too busy being the popular extrovert he was tonight, so you thought it best to leave the small gift you bought for him on his bedside table, he could appreciate the gift when the party was over. 

You closed the door on your way out, and frowned as you looked down the hall, a couple of strangers kissed passionately while one of the boys groped the walls for somewhere to go, you watched as he found one of the unlocked doors and went inside. You sighed, hesitating to make a move. You knew very well that this was Wanda's room. You figured that no one would want to know that strangers were screwing in their bed.

Hurrying inside, you opened the door.

- Sorry, boys, this one's off limits. - You warned them as you entered, noting that they were already almost naked. Grabbing the fallen clothes from around the room, they looked at you angrily, but then left the room.

You shifted the weight of your feet, realizing where you were at last. Looking around, you bit your lower lip as you observed how everything was just so Wanda. 

The color of the walls, the sheets, even the way she organized the books and records. You ran your finger between the shelves on the wall, smiling at the collection of music she had in vinyl record format. And then you looked at the collection of dvds, compilations of old American sitcoms.

You walked over to the study table, a picture of Wanda and Pietro as children caught your eye. It was Halloween, and they were dressed up adorably, Wanda as a witch, with horns and a red cape, and Pietro as a superhero. You put the photo back, running your fingers through Wanda's notes displayed in the notebooks she left open on the table. On the few occasions you saw her at school during the past year, she was studying. Pietro had commented that she was going to apply to the best colleges in the country. 

- What are you doing here? - A female voice sounded behind you, and you stumbled with fright, turning around quickly.

- God, Wanda, you scared the hell out of me. - You grumbled, but she continued with a look of mixed annoyance and curiosity. You looked away before speaking. - Sorry for snooping. I just came here to keep some boys from having sex in your bed.

Wanda blinked with confusion, but her expression softened. You noticed how beautiful she looked, and scolded yourself for thinking that the next second.

- Oh right. Thanks, I guess.

You nodded slightly, not being used to being alone with her. 

- I didn't know you liked sitcons. - The words escape your anxious brain, and Wanda blinks in confusion. You thought she would throw you out of the room right away, but she just smiles, shrugging.

- You never asked. - She says, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

- Yeah, I didn't know you wanted me to ask. - You retort, your voice coming out almost in a whisper. Wanda looks away, twiddling her fingers.

You were silent for a moment, and Wanda looked like she was about to say something, but then the door opened again, and you raised your eyebrows as you watched two girls snuggled up to each other and stumbled into the room, unaware of your presence. Wanda made an impatient expression.

- Get out, now! - she warns, and the girls part in shock. You raise your eyebrows as you realize that you knew them.

- Damn, we didn't know it was taken. - Carol grumbled, and when she looked at you her expression changed from embarrassment to happiness. - Y/N! I didn't know you were coming.

You nodded at her clumsily, and she just smiled, apologizing again as she dragged Maria out of the room, closing the door. You didn't even want to think about what you two were going to do.

- Maybe you should lock the door. - You said, and Wanda looked at you with a raised eyebrow, a tone of surprise and malice in her gaze. You blushed as you realized what your speech implied. - I-I mean when we get out of here.

Wanda laughed, and you tried to cope with the butterflies in your stomach that seeing her laugh gave you.

- I think I will stick around here anyway. - She comments after a moment, sitting up in bed. - Parties aren't really my thing.

- Yeah, I know how it is. - You add, a little awkwardly. - I only agreed to come because Pietro really wanted me to.

- You stopped coming here at home. - Wanda says with an expression you don't understand, it was as if she wanted to read you. - Are you two all right?

You look at her with mild surprise, not really expecting her to have noticed you anyway. 

- Me and Pietro? Yes, we're fine! - you affirm, putting your hands in your pockets. - I guess the exams have been keeping me busy. And well, Pietro has lots of friends now, it's not like I'm missed that much.

You looked at the floor, not noticing Wanda's frown. You didn't want to think too much about Pietro replacing you, not today.

- I don't think that's true. - Wanda says after a moment. - Pietro likes you very much.

Wanda's tone is almost hurt. At first you thought that maybe she was thinking that Pietro enjoyed your company more than hers, which was absolutely ridiculous, but then you understood the tone of the insinuation, and laughed lightly, attracting the other girl's attention.

- You know we're just friends, right? - You start to explain, the idea of dating Pietro is so absurd that your voice comes out in a tone of debauchery and humor. - He has never looked at me like that! And I always thought he was like a little brother.

You laugh at the possibility, but Wanda looks at you intently.

- Would I be like your little sister too? - She replies in a low tone, and you feel your smile drop and look away, completely embarrassed.

- No. - You deny it, a little breathlessly. - I don't see you as a sister.

- And how do you see me?

Feeling your heart race, you force yourself to look up, looking at Wanda. She has a glint in her eyes that makes you want to kiss her.

Before you can answer, the door opens again, and Pietro stumbles inside.

- Great, I found you two! - He looked drunk. - We're going to play seven minutes in heaven, come on, come on!

Giving you two absolutely no chance to respond, he pushed you through the house, leading you to the basement, where your group of friends were waiting for you.

- Hey guys. - You greeted awkwardly seeing everyone standing there. 

- No fucking way you two are at a party together! - joked Tony Stark, smiling at you. Despite the teasing, the others were genuinely happy with your company. - And they're still going to play with us? This is legendary.

- Why don't you just fuck off, Stark? - retorted Wanda as she entered. You knew they didn't get along very well, but Tony just shrugged, laughing at the other girl's aggressiveness. 

- Come on, guys, do the circle! - asked Steve, who was already sitting in one of the armchairs. He put a bottle in the middle of the group. - Are you sure you want seven minutes?

- We start with truth and dare, Rogers. - said Tony as he sat down next to Thor, one of Pietro's soccer teammates.

- All right, all right, let's just play this game once and for all, - said Pietro impatiently. When everyone was sitting in a circle, Steve touched the bottle, smiling at the group.

Turning the bottle, everyone looked forward in anticipation. The tip stopped at Sam, one of his closest friends, who seemed confident to respond to anything.

- Truth or dare, Wilson? - Steve asked.

- I'll go for truth.

- Boring. - Grumbled Tony, but Steve just laughed, and assumed a thoughtful expression.

- Who was the last person you kissed?

Sam bowed his head, a smile on his lips. You frowned, he was not the type to be shy. Tony noticed as well and assumed a curious posture, looking at Sam intently.

- The last person I kissed... - Sam began, pausing, as if wondering if he was really going to say it - Was Bucky.

The whole group exclaimed in surprise, and Tony burst out laughing. You looked at Bucky, who just seemed too embarrassed to respond to the jokes.

- Okay, let's pretend this isn't the biggest sex scandal in school, and move on. - Pietro said in an amused tone. Sam laughed at his comments, and turned the bottle, which stopped at Thor.

- Dare. - Said the blond man without even waiting for Sam to ask. Sam laughed and thought for a few seconds before saying:

- Okay, everyone will need to put their cell phones on speaker for this one. - Sam said and nodded, waiting for everyone to obey. The group laughed, but followed his lead. - Well, my challenge is very simple. Send a message to the person you want to make out with from here. Everyone will know who.

- You are terrible, Wilson. - Thor commented, ignoring the sighs of excitement that the group shared.

It took a moment for Thor to pick up his cell phone, and type something. He took a sip of his beer before pressing enter, and the next second, Valkyrie's cell phone rang. 

- This is not at all surprising, actually. - Steve joked, making everyone laugh.

Valkyrie gave Thor a surprised and mischievous look, but said nothing. Thor looked slightly flushed.

- If you guys are lucky, you can win seven minutes. - Sam teased.

Thor laughed but said nothing. He stepped forward to spin the bottle. Tony let out a pleased exclamation when he saw the bottle stop on him.

- Fuck, finally! - He said, and raised his hand to interrupt Thor, who was probably about to ask the choice. - No need, darling. Of course I want a dare, this game is no fun without it.

- Fine, Stark. - Thor laughed. - Since you love to show off, I dare you to give Rogers a lap dance.

The group burst into laughter, but Steve seemed considerably anxious. Tony laughed, a little awkwardly, and then stood up. 

Thor was quick to get some music playing, and everyone was quiet in anticipation. When Tony started to perform, you blinked awkwardly. You had no desire to see Anthony Stark do a lap dance on someone's lap. You pulled your cell phone out of your pocket checking for messages, and smiled when you saw that there was a message from Nat, just a picture of her and Bruce, smoking together in what you thought looked like the Skateboard Court near the school.

The group laughed again, and you lifted your head to see that Tony was riding on Steve's lap, with his shirt off. Steve was very red. 

- Okay guys, I think that's good enough! - Thor laughed, and Tony stood up. The group laughed at the visible erections on both of them, before continuing the game. 

- Can you keep up, Stark? - Thor sneered, pointing at Tony's pants. He gave a lopsided smile, and pointed a middle finger at Thor before picking up the bottle.

You felt your stomach flip with nervousness when the bottle stopped on you. 

- Well, well, this should be interesting. - said Tony looking at you mischievously. - Tell me, kitten, truth or dare?

You considered your options for a few seconds. If you asked for truth, Tony would not only tease you, but also find a way to make you confess something embarrassing. At least with dare, it would be quick and without much impact on your post-party life.

- Dare. - You say simply, and Tony looks surprised.

- It's been a night of surprises. - he scoffed. - And I think it's time for us to start the seven minutes in heaven.

- Damn it, Tony. - You mumble clumsily. Tony laughs and then flashes you a smile of fake kindness.

- I'll be nice to you. The bottle will choose your partner.  - He says, and you cover your face with both hands for a moment before grabbing the bottle.

- I hate you, - you mutter to Tony before swirling the bottle around. With luck it would stop at one of your friends, and you would spend seven minutes talking.

- No fucking way! - shouted Tony excitedly as the bottle stopped at Wanda. You felt your stomach drop. - I always knew you'd end up with a Maximoff, I never thought it would be with the most gothic of them.

The group laughed, but you were feeling extremely anxious. You felt your legs tremble slightly when Tony pulled you off the couch, seeing your lack of reaction. You tried to smile, but it must have come out as a grimace, since Tony laughed. 

- Remember girls, no cheating. - he warned, opening the closet door. You went in first, and then Tony closed the door when Wanda came in.

The closet was completely dark, and you could only distinguish Wanda's silhouette by squinting your eyes. You leaned your body against the wall, your breaths were the only sounds in the room, since the noise of the party was muffled.

- That's awkward. - You said trying to ease your nerves. 

- Why is it awkward? - Wanda replied. The closet was small, and looking at the floor, you noticed that your shoes were only inches from touching.

- I don't know, I guess I never thought I'd be in a closet with you. - you confess humorously. But with Wanda's lack of response, you bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say next.

- Who did you think you would be stuck with? - She says after a moment, sounding as if she is trying to prolong the subject.

- I don't know. - You say, looking at your shoes again. You think you're imagining that the distance between you has decreased. - I don't really think about being stuck in closets.

Wanda laughs at your statement, and you feel your heart race at the sound. You count twelve seconds in silence before she speaks again.

- I never understood why we didn't become friends. - Wanda confesses, and you look up at her silhouette. 

Because I've been a gay disaster in your presence since I met you. You think, but think it best to just shrug. Then you remember that she can't see the gesture, and try to think of something to say.

- Different political views. - You joke, and Wanda giggles. 

- I like your humor. - She says next, and you feel your cheeks heat up, and look down, only to see Wanda's shoes signaling that she has taken a step toward you. You press your back against the wall, watching her move closer in the dark. - And honestly, I've always liked you a lot.

- W-what? - You ask breathlessly, feeling Wanda's presence right in front of you, your noses touching.

- I always noticed you, you know. - She says, drawing her face closer to your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair. You were thankful that there was a wall behind you, serving as a support. - I would see you around the house. Playing in my yard. And the jokes at the dinner table. Always so quiet and shy at school, so behaved and obedient. - Wanda whispered, and then she brought her mouth close to his ear. - Tell me, did you notice me too?

- Yes. - You confess breathlessly. And ignoring the uneven beating of your own heart, you continue. - I have always noticed you. Ever since middle school, when you started wearing leather boots, and painting your fingernails. Or when I was at your swimming pool and you sat quietly with a book. I noticed you.

Wanda lets out a sigh, bringing your foreheads together.

- Tell me to stop if you don't want this. - She whispered against your lips. You would have laughed if you weren't so anxious. 

You didn't answer, and wanting her to know how much you wanted her, you moved forward, pressing your lips together in a tender kiss.

Wanda took a step back in surprise, separating your mouths. You were about to apologize, thinking that maybe you had got it all wrong, but the next second she moved against you, her hands on your neck as your mouths joined in a firm, passionate kiss.

Bringing your hands to her waist, you pressed her against your body, and you gasped against each other's mouths. Wanda asked for passage with her tongue running over your lower lip, and you opened your mouth, gasping as you felt your tongues come together.

Kissing like this for a moment was enough to warm your whole body, a familiar discomfort forming below your belly. Having Wanda moaning against your mouth was not helping.

You slowed the kiss, stroking her tongue with yours slowly. Wanda pressed herself against you, one knee coming up between your legs. With the new friction, you felt your body tremble in anticipation, delighting in pleasure.

You were startled when you heard a noise, someone must have knocked something over outside the closet. And then you remembered that you were in a closet, with your best friend's sister, who was in the next room with six other people, with no idea that you were about to fuck Wanda.

You began to slow the kiss until you separated the two of you. Your chests were rising out of rhythm as you were breathing heavily

- We only have seven minutes. - You whispered out of breath, feeling Wanda nod her head slightly as you stood there with your foreheads pressed together.

- We can go to my room. - She spoke in the same tone. You nodded in agreement, beginning to miss the taste of Wanda in your mouth.

- Should we wait until the party is over?

Wanda let out a breathless giggle.

- Tell me. - She whispered, and removed her hands from your neck. With one hand she lifted her skirt, while with the other she took your hand from her waist and guided it down between her legs. You trembled as you touched her, pushing the fabric of her panties aside to feel her wet pussy. - Do you think I can wait?

- Fuck, Wanda. - You spoke breathlessly, and felt her moan as your finger moved against her clitoris. She squeezed your shoulder, closing her eyes. - You're so wet. So fucking wet for me.

You began to move your finger, penetrating her shallowly. Wanda buried her head in your neck, moaning against your skin.

It takes all your mental and physical control, but you withdraw your finger from inside her, while with the hand that was still on her waist you move up and down her back, stroking to calm her down.

- I want to feel you in my mouth. - You whisper to her. - I want you to come for me with your legs spread wide open on your bed. 

Wanda nods against your neck, trembling slightly. And then the door opens. You barely catch Tony's joke, feeling disconnected from everything that isn't Wanda. 

And before you can say anything, Wanda grabs your hand, pulling you out. 

- Where do you think you're going? - You hear someone shout, but neither of you even bother to answer. 

You can't help but smile when you reach the second floor, and Wanda pushes you into the room, locking the door as she brings your mouths together.

[ellana-ravenwood]

Good Night Rituals - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : You have a special little way to tuck your children in, to tell them “Goodnight” and send them off to have sweet dreams, and they absolutely love it. It makes, however, your Bruce a little jealous, at times...

When I was a kid, my mom used to sing to my brother and I a song every night, after our bed time story, and then she’d tell us she loved her, we’d in turn be like “I love you from here to the Moon !” and it’d go for a good half an hour of arguing over who loved the other one most...It inspired this mini-fic. Something very short, again to make you wait for longer more elaborate stuffs. Sorry i’m being slow, a lot of things (good things) is happening and I have very little time. I hope you will like this little thing :) : 

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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Dick

Dick is the one that invented this little “night ritual”. 

He told you this was the perfect name for it, because it sounded like you were witches up to no good, and he “loved that for you two”. 

Of course, it was fairly obvious he’d be the instigator of it all, as he was the oldest child. Your first little kiddo. Oh, but you helped too. 

The good ol’ days, during which you had absolutely NO idea how to raise a child. When you and Bruce, frankly, hadn’t been adults for THAT long, considering. 

And yet, and you were sure it was entirely thanks to little Dickie, everything came to you naturally. Everything felt right. Even if sometimes, you were a little clumsy. 

Both you and Bruce tried so hard though. To make Dick feel home. And like you were his parents. You never tried to replace his mom and dad. But in Dick’s own words, you just slowly became his chance at having parents again. 

Becoming Dick’s mom, and Dick’s dad, didn’t mean he forgot the ones he lost. It just meant he loved you as much as he loved them. And though the loss would forever hurt, he did know both John and Mary Grayson would’ve want him to be happy. 

And at Wayne Manor ? With you and Bruce ? He became happy. There was a few rough and dark first days, but things slowly build up. 

You became a family. You were his parents, now. And he knew, that his mom and dad wouldn’t be mad at him if he “moved on”, and allowed himself to love again. 

Bruce often said that he adopted Dick because he didn’t want the boy to become him. And in that simple fact, in that simple way little Dick Grayson understood he still had a chance at being happy, at having a family...He was already extremely different from his “new” dad. 

At least, from when he was at his age. 

Mission accomplished. 

In any case, this parent thing that was thrown your way, became one of the most important thing you’ve ever done in your life. 

And again, although there were some clumsy moments, and not everything was always great (Dick had some mighty fit of rage at times, Bruce could be a jerk, and hell sometimes you needed to get away from them as well because you could be such a dick...Everyone has their moments where they’re not on their best behavior, it’s called life), you were a mom, now. 

And being a mom, in your mind, meant tucking your kid in when it was time for bedtime. 

Only, it was easier said than done. 

Dick was a difficult child to put in bed. He’d always find ways to not sleep, and make you stay longer with him. Eventually, you made a “deal”. 

And that’s how the “night ritual” was born. 

You see, before this little ritual. This “deal” as you called it at first, before Dick found the name. It took you hours, to put him to bed. 

Bruce was often out in the city early (although he always made sure to be here for a good night kiss and a “love you, champ. See you tomorrow, sleep well”) and Alfred would monitor the computer, at those times. 

Later, when Dick grew up, you’d often be behind that monitor. But if a kid had to be put to bed ? You gladly took it upon yourself to do it. 

For you, especially in those early motherhood days, it was important to be there for your child. For him to feel like he wasn’t an afterthought, and that “the butler” (although everyone knew Alfred was more than that) wasn’t here to take him off of your hands. 

So bedtime, was your task. The task you gave yourself. 

And oh boy, with Dick ? It quickly turned into a hassle. 

“I’m thirsty...Wait, I’m afraid to stay alone in the room, piggyback ride to the kitchen ?” 

“I can’t sleep, it’s a full Moon.” 

“Hey, I didn’t clean up my room today ! We can’t leave all my toys laying around like that, can we ?” 

It was always “one last story” or “I have to pee” or “I forgot to brush my teeth !”. 

And at the time, you just didn’t have the heart to scold him and tell him it was enough, that it was time for bed. Oh well, who were you kidding. Even now, you didn’t scold your kids if they took their sweet time to get to bed. 

You just didn’t quite understood the point in getting  mad at them just because they didn’t go to bed right away. Dick eventually fell asleep, and not even that late. And if he was stalling for too long, he would only get mad at himself the next day because he’d be exhausted, and then that night he’d go to bed earlier. 

So no. You didn’t get mad. It sounded ridiculous, to yell at kids for this. However, you were a mom now. And you knew your kid couldn’t just do whatever he wanted, even if he was as sweet as Dick. 

Dick was nice almost all the time. He listened, did his chores, worked in school...So what if you gave him a little freedom sometimes ?

Yes. Sometimes. It was fine sometimes. 

But not all the time, like it had become. And not for bedtime. Seeing your son, in the morning, with big bags under his eyes, made you think of your husband, and oh you didn’t want this little 8 years old to be as tired as your Broosh could be. 

Of course, Dick was in bed WAY BEFORE Bruce came to bed. But for a small child like him, falling asleep at 10 or 11 pm was already too late. 

And so, one day you had enough. And you decided to make a deal with him. There had to be things required for him to go to bed (like a story, for example), but when you said : “it’s time for bed now”, he HAD to listen. The threat was that you’d just kiss him goodnight and leave. 

At first, Dick didn’t believe you. You couldn’t possibly have the heart to not tell him a story, and leave him alone so soon ! But you had to give him a lesson. 

And so, came the first unpleasant act you did as a parent. Because being nice and lenient was one thing, but you still were his mom. Not his friend. And there had to be certain rules, especially for such a young child. 

Rules, that he had to understand, or it was meaningless. Now, of course, you weren’t as harsh as your husband (you’d get mad at him enough, when he trained Dick and was a little too much). But still. You couldn’t let him decide of everything. You really REALLY didn’t want him to become a brat who thought he could just have anything whenever he wanted. 

Dick was a great kid, your worst fear at the time was that he’d turn into a phony who thought of himself as superior just because he was from a famous and rich family, and allowed to do whatever he wanted. 

And so, the “night ritual” began. On a common accord (because Dick was such a good kid, but also because that time you just kissed him, tucked him in and left really left a mark on him and he hated that so much !). 

You realized the reason he couldn’t get to sleep right away was because he was always wayyyy too excited, but also...because he didn’t want you to leave so soon. 

He dreaded the moment you’d leave, and he would be alone in his room. 

So you put in place a system, that would gradually make him sleepy. And...

It worked. 

First, you’d get dessert in bed. Usually fresh milk and a cookie. Something light, just to put him a little bit to sleep (Dick always got sleeping after he ate something, for some reasons). And you’d talk about your day, about how you felt. You’d lay it all out, so that your boy wouldn’t get to bed with any negative feelings. Talking, always helped. 

Then you’d read him a bedtime story. Better yet, you’d invent a bedtime story just for him (this is how your most famous book saga, “Richard and the Space pirates” came to be). If you felt benevolent that night, you’d even tell him two stories. 

One would usually do the trick, however.

Then you’d sing him a few lullabies, to lull him softly to sleep. 

And as he’d fall asleep, you’d whisper : 

“I love you so much.”

And he’d answer, outraged but too weak to really argue. A few last words before falling into a deep slumber : 

“I love you more !”

And bam. He’d be passed out. Your soft voice in his ears, as you told him a story, sang to him, and told him he was loved...It was what he needed. 

He was a rather young child too, who had a busy life. School, training, homework...So of course, with a little coaxing, he’d fall asleep fast. 

But he had to know you were there. Had to know he had those moments with you, and wouldn’t be alone before he fell asleep.

See, you understood that all his stalling before the “night ritual” was put in place, was because he was trying to tire himself out before you left. He was trying to keep you there as long as possible, just so he would fall asleep fast once you were gone. 

“I love you most.” 

You’d tell him, as he was already sleeping sweetly, clinging to his comforter as you slowly caressed his hair, laid a last kiss on his forehead, and left the room. Making sure before, that his little light was on, in case he woke up at night. 

Dick hated the dark. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you more !”

“I love you most.” 

Night ritual. 

Existing because your oldest kiddo, Dick, needed some “guidance” to fall asleep. But most importantly, because he needed to know you’d be there too, until he fell into his dreams. 

You’d indulge him. Meeting him half-way between “doing everything he wants you to do” and “being way too strict”. There were rules, to bedtime. 

A “night ritual”. 

But the rules were lax. Could be bend. And existed only so he would be able to sleep relatively early. 

For years and years, you’d do that little nightly ritual with him. It stopped when he was around 14, even if he still had a kiss goodnight and got tucked in. Things really stopped overall when he left for the Titans, shortly after turning 16, after that awful fight with his father. 

Oh and to be honest, something he’d never tell anyone...Even now, as a grown ass adult, he’d sometimes call you at night just so you could sing him a song, as your voice was still the thing that’d put him peacefully at sleep even to this day. But the real “night ritual” stopped. Your little boy grew up.

Which made you so sad...But then Jason came in. And soothed the pain. 

Jason

Jason ressembled Dick in that he really wanted you to stay for the longest possible. But, unlike Dick who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind and who could be a bit of a brat sometimes, Jason wouldn’t say anything. 

Dick definitely used his little charms and smiles to make you and Bruce crack, and give in...the little bugger even taught his younger siblings everything about how to manipulate you two into saying “yes”, to your greatest dismay...

Oh but, was one more scoop of ice cream really that bad ? After all, your children were nice most of the time, it was fine to be a little lenient sometimes, and though Bruce loved to think of himself as a strict parent, nobody was fooled, you were both pretty cool and lax...Which didn’t mean your children were misbehaving brats, although they had their moments, like everyone. 

Anyway, Dick used to make it clear he was demanding for you to stay longer with him when bedtime was coming. 

But Jason was a little shyer. He spend his entire life until then thinking he was bothering the people around him, that he was a burden, so he really didn’t want his new family to think that of him. 

But you could see it in his eyes. You could. When he wanted for you to tell one more story, or to sing him one more lullaby. And although you were constantly teased by your husband about how easy those kids played you (as if he was one to talk)...you couldn’t resist. 

You were always left rather sad and depressed, if you put one of your kids to bed and they looked visibly upset. So you’d stay longer. Anything for them to go to bed feeling good. 

About life. About themselves. About everything, really. 

A child shouldn’t have his sleep burdened by any worries.

Of course you knew you couldn’t be forever there for them, they’d eventually grow up and you wouldn’t really need to “tuck them in” anymore (at the time, you had  no idea that even well in their twenties, if they came to sleep at the Manor, even as they already moved out, they’d ask you for a good night kiss...The magic of being consistent in your love for them, really). 

You knew that eventually, they’d grow up too much and wouldn’t need you as much. That it’d be harder, too, to cheer your little ones up. Growing up unfortunately meant your worries grew with you too, and were harder and harder to forget. Or to be distracted from. 

You knew one day would come, in which little Jason would not be soothed anymore, by you telling him a bed time story. 

So maybe, you cracked a little too often, especially with him. 

You knew Dick had a good childhood, before you adopted him. But Jason ? He was bruised and abused, and thrown away like a dirty socks too often. Nobody ever wanted him, anywhere he went. 

Which was why, he didn’t dare to ask for a second story when you finished the first one. 

See, Dick would just jump up in his bed, do a backflip and dramatically say : “Pleaaaase fair lady, another story for the poor squire boy !”. Which would make you smile, and tell him one more. 

But Jason ? He didn’t say anything. And held all his feelings of sadness and disappointment inside. 

He wanted, more often than not, a second story so bad. But he didn’t want to bother you. He didn’t want you to realize he was actually a burden, and to throw him away, just like everyone else did. 

Jason always got to have a second story. Of course, any of your kids would if they asked. But Jason never dared to ask. So you’d just give it to him naturally. 

He always started to fall asleep half-way through the second story, which you’d keep on hold to then sing to him. 

Your songs would make him slowly drift to sleep, a genuine smile on his face. 

Oh. Jason. Always such a sweet boy, afraid to bother others, yet as contradictory as it sounded boisterous and full of life. 

Your little Jason. When Dick left for the Titans, you hadn’t realized how much you missed having a little one home. And then. 

Then there was Jason. 

When he died, you thought your “motherhood” died with him. Dick was over eighteen by then, and even if Jason’s death made him come back to the Manor, there was no “night ritual” anymore. You didn’t have the heart for it anyway...

You still had Dick, but losing your young son like that, knowing how he died, made you feel like you would never recover. You were in such a bad shape, that you couldn’t even help Bruce when he also fell into a dark well. When he turned back to being overly violent as Batman, practices he stopped when Dick left and opened his eyes. When Dick questioned him. 

You still had Dick, but it felt like part of what you were as a mother, died with Jason. How could you do a “night ritual” properly now, with the memories of your son’s sweet smile, him telling you this was his favorite part of his day ? With the memories of...

You moved from the East wing to the West wing, after Jason’s death. None of you could walk past his empty room anymore. 

Dick came back. And it was his turn, to help you fall asleep. More than one night, he spend trying to comfort you as you couldn’t stop the tears from running down. He never left you alone. 

Bruce couldn’t handle any of it, and he buried himself under his work as Batman. It would take him some time, before he realized that you had to be there for each others...

When Jason died, it felt like it was the end of everything nice about motherhood. Every night, you fell asleep with your head in your oldest son’s laps, seeing in his eyes the grief and pain of it all.

And you felt guilty. More depressed and sadder. You always hated seeing your children off to bed looking upset...

But it was hard to resist. Everything felt so far away. And Bruce wasn’t there. This was one of the darker moment, in your family life...

Dick felt helpless. He hadn’t been able to save his little brother. Now he couldn’t even help his parents. It felt like the entire family was breaking...

And then. Then Tim came in. 

Tim

Tim’s parents never tucked him in, too busy with their high society lives. 

So when he started to live with you and Bruce, after he lost both of them, he didn’t really expect you to...

“Do you want a bedtime story, maybe ?” 

You asked him on his first night being officially adopted. 

Oh but this was rather long after you started to see him as your own son. Tim already stayed over the Manor many times (without his parents ever even calling to know where he was). And he’d been Robin for a few months, before his parents passed away and he was officially adopted into the Wayne family (A/N : no need to tell me that canonically, Tim got adopted quite a long time after his parents died and he was “just” a ward like Dick was, for a while ;). No need either to tell me he was “older” than the age I give him there, which is around 10/11...Firstly because it varies according to canons, like sometimes he’s young, sometimes he’s fifteen, but also because this is a fanfic and my canon ages for the boys are taken from the canon I prefer XD which are not the ones in which he had a certain “Happy 15th birthday” pizza. Anyway what I mean is, that I’m not entirely accurate here for sure, but eh, it’s a FANfic, let’s allow ourself a little freedom...there’s no official canon on his age or how old he was when adopted anyway, it varies wildly from era to era hehe). 

Both you and Bruce kept your distance from him, at first. In more way than others, he painfully reminded you of the son you lost. And it felt wrong, to replace him so...

Replace him ? 

Slowly, both of you were reminded of that conversation you had with Dick, once. When he was little, and asking if his parents would be mad if he called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. 

That conversation, during which all of you talked about how you didn’t replace John and Mary, you just became another family for him. His new parents. 

Didn’t mean he would ever forget about the ones who were ripped away from him. Just that he...

He allowed himself to love again. 

And you did, too, when you finally accepted Tim in your life. 

That boy had a way, anyway, to crawl inside your heart and settle comfortable there...He was just such a bright one, in more than one way. Sure, he was extremely intelligent, but he also just...Shone. A new sun in your life. 

Not one that would replace any other Sun. Just. A new one. That you were allowed to love, too. 

“Do you want a bedtime story, maybe ?” 

Now, he was officially your son. And this was the first night he’d spend in the Manor being yours. Before, you never dared to tuck him in, by fear of getting too attached just for him to be ripped away from you...And he almost did. 

His father, almost took him away, before his ultimate demise... But that was another story. 

Tonight, was the first night as your son. And he was still so small, just ten little years. The age Jason was too, when the official adoption papers were signed...

You chased away the painful memories, as little Timmy looked at you, surprised. But you could see a hint of interest in his eyes. 

“A bedtime story ?” 

“Yes, if you want to of course. You don’t have to-”

“I’d love a bedtime story !” 

He was in such a hurry to tell you this, that it made you smile. And you could feel it in your bones. That boy never had anyone asking him if he wanted to be told a story, before sleep. 

It was obvious in his excitement, and it was obvious in his hopeful eyes. Eyes that were asking : “...Do I really mean something to you ? Enough that you’d spend time reading to me ?”. 

It broke your heart. Poor little one. Even though he had parents, and came from a rich family, he was never truly cared for. It was obvious in everything he did. 

Often, he’d try to do stuffs on his own, and would be surprised if you, Alfred or Bruce would ask if he needed help... 

Ah. Well tonight. Tonight called for one of your made up stories for sure. A mere random storybook wouldn’t do. No. You had to tailor one for him. Just for him. So he would finally know how special he is. 

“Ok, well then.”  

You settled next to him in his bed, as he sat up, the excitement pouring out of his very being. Alfred chose that time, to drop some milk and cookies, as he informed you he would be down in the Batcave to help Bruce. 

Impeccable timing. As usual. 

You thanked him, and started your story, as Tim looked at you with wide eyes, eating his cookie absentmindedly, quickly realizing you were telling a story about him ! : 

“Once upon a time, there was a little boy. His name was Timothy, and he didn’t know it yet but one day...He’d save the entire Kingdom of Waynalia. How, you might ask ? Well it was simple. You see, young Timothy had a talent to cure people’s heart. And the King and Queen of Waynalia, who were known to be cruel and vile, only were so because they’ve had broken hearts for far too long...” 

Tim fell asleep at the end of the story. And just like his brothers, quickly took to this “night ritual”. After all, he was still just a child. And this entire “milk/cookie/ story/lullabies/kiss goodnight” was great. 

Cassandra

Cassandra was fifteen, when she started to live with you at Wayne Manor. Too old, you thought, for the “night ritual”

Dick himself stopped demanding it around aged fourteen (after a certain Wally West mocked him when he heard of it), and even that was rather old when you thought of it. One of the main reason he slowly detached himself from it (apart from being mocked), was being Robin full time now, and going most nights out, so he didn’t really have the energy anymore for the ritual. It wasn’t needed. Which sort of broke your heart. 

Jason died before he ever got the “chance” to ask you to stop....

But this was not something you wanted to think about. Oh no. 

In any case, Cass was fifteen, and you thought, too old to want some bedtime stories by her mom, or any sort of snuggles. 

That was until...

A nightmare. 

You heard her, it felt even in your sleep. Something woke you, and then she started to scream. Bruce wasn’t home yet, and it was her night off (you forced all of them to have one, at least once a week). 

That night, you had marathoned your favorite TV show with her, and went to bed your separate ways. You did kiss her goodnight, and told her you loved her (you always told them at least once a day, because you learned that in your line of work...you never knew what could happen...Jason’s smiling cheeky face came to your mind, did you tell him often enough that he-no. Not tonight.). 

And then, late, it was pitch black out, you heard her scream. 

Your mother instinct made you run to her. Quickly, you understood she had yet another bad dream about her father coming to get her, and forcing her to be a weapon again. It happened so often... 

You shook her up, and she almost knocked you down as she was slowly regaining consciousness and wondering what the hell was happening and where she was. You know, those few seconds before you’re fully awake, when you’re not even sure you’re even someone anymore ? The time you need to remember oh right, I’m human, and I was in my bed. This is my bedroom. Right. 

To sooth her, you started to slowly sing to her. To hold her while you rocked gently back and forth, and sung. 

She didn’t talk, as you dried her tears. As you reminded that this was all fine, she was home, and David Cain would never hurt her again. 

Cass calmed down, and fell back asleep. You held her most of the night, waiting for Bruce to come back. You just didn’t feel like going back alone in your bed, after such screams

The next night off she had, when it was time to part at the top of the stairs after yet another TV show marathon, when you’d go to your room and her to hers...

She stopped. And held onto your sleeve. 

“Cass, honey, what is it ?”  

There was a few seconds of silence, before she said : 

“Do it again ?” 

And you understood instantly. 

See, the other nights, the ones she didn’t have off, Cass would come home exhausted after a night of vigilanting. But when she had her night off, when she wasn’t “working”...Sleep was hard to come. 

You knew all too well what she felt. Your Broosh was the same, and already poured his feelings to you about it more than once. 

Now, Cassandra wasn’t much of a talker (your husband either, really, but then it was different with you)but you could see it in her eyes. 

“Sing ?” 

She nodded. And so you went to tuck her in. 

You thought she was “too old”. You thought she wouldn’t like it. You thought, as she was slowly discovering her own independence after being treated as a weapon and not choosing anything in her life, that she’d want to be alone in moments like this. 

And oh. Oh you thought wrong. 

That night, you sang to her until she fell asleep. And slowly but surely, the “night ritual” put himself into place. 

Over the years, it didn’t change much. Because it was such a successful formula. Milk and cookies was talking about their day, getting their feelings out. A story by you. A soothing lullabies. Snuggles and kisses. 

Winning formula. 

Why change it ? Your children were all wildly different, but the one thing that linked them all, was how much they loved you and your antics. 

Each of them had “mom time”, where they’d spend the day just with you (just like your Broosh and you had date nights and such). You always took time to spend individual time with all of them, and during those times the activities would be very different from one kid to another. 

But those “night rituals” ? They didn’t need to change. Because they were perfect the way they were. Exactly what they all needed. Pure love, in many ways. And the knowledge they’d never be alone again. 

Love and loneliness. 

Two things your youngest son, Damian, struggled with for years. 

Damian

“I love you, little one.” 

The first time, Damian didn’t respond. He just nodded, and turned around in his bed, back facing you. 

He couldn’t face you, or you’d see the “stupid” smile plastering his face at the mere thought he was loved, and had a real mom...But that, you didn’t know.

You didn’t really take it personally, you happened to know another “emotionally stunted” Wayne, so you were used to it. It took a while, for Bruce to finally admit his feelings for you. Even if they were obvious, and written all over his face (which is why Damian used the “back facing you” trick). 

You knew it’d take time. So for now, you’d settle with a simple kiss, and reminding him he was cherished. 

And then one day... 

“Why do you not read me bed time stories ? Or make one up, with me as the hero ?” 

“Beg you pardon ?” 

You were diligently tucking him in, as he never told you off when you did it, when he asked this, taking you by surprise. What he said didn’t quite register, until he added : 

“Grayson says that when he was little, you’d tell him a story. Made him the hero of it. And then you’d sing. He said there were cookies, too. Why do you not do that with me ?” 

Oh. Oh. Oooooooooh. 

You got it now. But you’re no less surprised. 

“I thought...You had no interest in those ?” 

Damian nodded slowly, and said : 

“I know why you would think this...Mom.”

Mom. That...He hadn’t call you that very often, so far...

“But when you come to tuck me in, I never have nightmares. I sleep soundly, and I dream of-Soft things. Like unicorns and cats.” 

This makes you smile. Oh. Oh if only people could see the Damian right in front of you, and not the Damian he liked to pretend he was. 

Sweet, sweet boy. 

“I know why you think I don’t want a story, and snuggles, and all the thing Grayson gushed about for hours. But I...Do. I like when you come to tell me goodnight, and I wouldn’t mind if it lasted longer ?” 

He was so unsure. Very unlike his cocky usual self. 

This, was the real Damian. 

The one who really wants to connect with others, who wants to be good, but he’s just not really sure on how to proceed. So he pretends he doesn’t care. 

But he does. He cares a lot. 

He’s very much like your Broosh, in that regard. Like father like son, eh ? Both of them love to hide emotions from their faces, and pretend everything is ok, even when they’re breaking inside. 

Silly boys. 

You managed to reach Bruce. You were sure you could reach your son...

And it had already started. You could see it. You smile, and leave his room to get cookies and milk. 

And oh damn it, you should’ve told him you were doing that ! Because when you came back, he was laying in his bed and looked absolutely crestfallen ! There was even small tears in his eyes, oh no ! 

You quickly understood that he thought you were refusing to do the famous “night ritual” with him. That you just went to bed too, and weren’t going to tell him a story. 

His face brightens, truly brightens, reminding you of when the sun just comes out from behind high mountains. He sees the cookies and milk, and oh. Oh he looks so excited. 

You dried his tears with the back of your hand, and smiled fondly at him. 

It makes everything worth it. All your effort to connect with him, worth the work and heartache it brought. 

You knew. You knew you’d eventually make it. And it’s that evening, when he asked for “the night ritual”, that you truly realized it. 

First, cookies and milk, and a little talk about his day. His feelings, too. 

Then the story, one you made up with him as the hero. He seemed to love that, especially to be a good hero, and not a villain. Cute, and heartbreaking at the same time. 

Then come the lullabies. 

And finally, the soft drift to sleep, and a last feel of warmth as you kiss his forehead and leave him to a deep slumber. 

Damian has never felt so peaceful in his life before. 

Duke

You didn’t really dare, at first, going to tell him good night. 

Unlike your other children, Duke arrived in the family being a sixteen years old boy. Way pass needing someone to tuck him in. And you didn’t want to overstep your bound, you already knew how difficult things were for him. How hard it was to adapt to it all. 

It was quite the same than with Cass. But even more complicated. 

Cass’ childhood was inexistent, really. Destroyed before she could enjoy it. So sometimes, when with you or Bruce, she’d let go, and act like a child, even though she was older. It was fine. She never had a childhood, she could make up for it now. And so what if she liked hot cocoas and cuddles ? Nobody would hold it against her. 

In fact, most adults would probably LOVE to be taken care of by their mom again.

But Duke, was different. He had a happy childhood, parents who were loving and caring...His mom most likely told him stories, and sung him lullabies. 

And he was sixteen. And in the middle of an identity crisis, as his powers just barely manifested. 

So you didn’t go to tuck him in. Even if you really wanted to. 

You wanted to give Cass freedom, let her explore herself, as she always lived following someone else’s orders and view of life. 

But Duke ? Duke was an entirely different case from Cass. And you could see him, at times, feeling lost and sad. 

You always hated having your kids go to bed upset. But what could you do ? 

He was certainly not gonna let you...Or, was he ? 

After all, you never asked. 

“Do you...Want a bedtime story ?” 

He stares at you, visibly confused and thinking you’re a little crazy. And you realize yes, this question is ridiculous. The boy was sixteen ! 

“Nevermind, sorry that was stupid. I was just thinking...Well I don’t know what I was thinking. Sorry. Night buddy.” 

“Wait !” 

Uh ? There was a sort of little panic, in his voice. As if he was afraid you were leaving so soon. You turned around, and waited for him to speak again. 

“Maybe not a...bedtime story but...Maybe, maybe we could talk ? For a little bit ? My...My mom and I used to talk every night, it helped me sleep.” 

You felt a lot of things at the same time. 

Touched he wanted to do with you what he used to do with his mom. 

Reassured to realize your guts were right, and that his mom did tuck him in sweetly every night. 

And sad that it took him so long to ask you for this. 

“Of course Duke, of course.” 

Duke, was older than any of your other children, when he came into your life. But it didn’t mean...

It didn’t mean he didn’t need you. Or your motherly side. 

He never quite had the full “night ritual” experience, as some aspect of it were definitely too childish. But he had the cookies and milk. And the talk. And the feel that you would always be there for him. 

Always. 

************

The end ? 

No. 

Bruce 

Bruce tossed and tossed in his bed, sleep evading him. 

There used to be a time, every nights were like that. Unable to fall asleep, and when he did, his slumber was plagued with the most terrible nightmares. 

Maybe that’s why, more than anything else, he decided to use his nights to be a vigilante ? Of course, the cover of nights helped in many ways, doing his Batman work in broad daylight would be more difficult (even if he did do some work during the day). Especially in regards of his “Brucie Wayne” persona, his cover up, pretending he definitely can’t be Batman. 

Ever since his parents died, Bruce had trouble falling asleep. That’s probably why it was so easy for him to train himself to sleep barely a few hours a night, and stay in shape even as he often ran on very little resting time. 

He lived like that for so many years...

And then. Then you appeared in his life. 

And every nights in your arms were peaceful, he was taken by a deep sleep that could happen only with you. He slept so soundly, when you were there, that often when you had to wake up before him, you had to call Alfred so he’d help you untangle yourself from his grasp (I wrote a story about that haha : How to remove a Wayne safely).

You forced him to take at least one night off, and he was so sure he wouldn’t be able to rest on those nights...yet he always fell asleep like a baby, around 11 pm max, often falling asleep in front of whatever movie you were watching, just the two of you. 

You had that power. To allow him to sleep well, and not have such awful nightmares.

So when you weren’t with him, he couldn’t find sleep. 

He would toss, again and again, and whenever he’d almost fall asleep, his hand would unconsciously look for you in bed and the fact you were absent would make him be wide awake again. 

Yes. He just couldn’t sleep, when you weren’t there. 

Which is why...Which is why he was a little grumpy, when you would take a long time telling your children good night. It was a sort of jealousy he wasn’t very proud of. 

Fighting other men to get your attention ? Any day. Fighting his own children...Felt a little shameful. Not like he could control this feelings, there was time, he was a little selfish. And you two had such few times to yourself, with the life you lead, that any opportunity was taken gladly.

He’d always try to be there for the story time, and for a kiss and some “Love you, kiddo” before leaving either for the cave, or to take an early night in.

Early night ins. Rare occasion. 

Like tonight. His one night off this week. 

He trusted his cousin, Batwoman, to take care of the city, and his oldest sons, Dick and Jason, who were now old enough to go out there on their own, too...Well, he did still hid trackers in them, and made sure to ask Kate to keep an eye on them, but they were adults. 

Capable of taking care of themselves, and go out there to keep Gotham safe, and take care of their younger siblings.

They were still absolutely forbidden to go out there alone. And no one wanted to argue much with your husband about safety, he had already made punchlines for those occurrences and it was impossible to win against him. 

Cass, Tim, Damian and Duke weren’t allowed yet to fly solo like their older brothers. They were only allowed to go out there while Bruce wasn’t IF they were with Kate, Dick, or Jason. 

Bruce particularly liked when they were with Jason because although many would think he was the most reckless one, because of his “bad boy” reputation but...When it came to his siblings’ safety, he did NOT joke around. 

Dick encouraged them to become their own person, and to take initiative (he trusted them to know what they could and could not do, and he was right). But Jason ? Jason took after you, and your “mama hen” personality, for sure. 

Actually, Bruce often sneakily stuck one of his younger kid with Jason, so his reckless son would be more careful. Neither you nor your husband wanted to ever lose him again...So what if you had to resort to dirty tactics and ask him to look after a younger siblings for him to be less incautious ?

In any case, it had been a long time deal by then, that Bruce HAD to take at least one night off. All of them had; They each had one night a week. Conveniently, there were seven of them. 

On those nights, you and Bruce would be together every single second of it, relishing in a little alone time, and in spending an entire night together for once, and not just a few hours there and there. 

But tonight, Damian was sick, and couldn’t go out either. Which was why you weren’t in bed with Bruce, right now. You were tucking your sick son in, and it already took quite a while on normal days but as he was feeling under the weather ??

Bruce knew you. He knew you would stay with him until he fell asleep. And he knew his son, too. He knew he would try to stay awake as long as possible just to be with you. 

Which meant...Your husband being alone, right now, and unable to sleep. Ugh. He should’ve just gone out as Batman tonight, and take a break another day. ...As if you or Alfred would’ve let him. You knew that “taking a break another day”, with him, meant never. 

Bruce tossed a few more times, and resolved that he couldn’t sleep up until you’d come. So he sat up, and thought he might as well take a walk around the Manor. It always calmed him down, as a child... 

That’s when you decided to come in.

“Going somewhere ?” 

You ask him, suspicious. He knows you think he was about to leave for the Batcave. And he doesn’t correct you. It’s better you think that, you already knew way too much how to push all his buttons down, he’d rather you not know that he was in fact about to just walk around the Manor and not go to the bat cave because he promise you to take the night off... 

Oh. Oh if Superman could hear his thoughts right now. He would surely not recognize his “workaholic” friend...And definitely not recognize his will to not piss off his wife, and listen to her. The Batman didn’t care, if he pissed people off ! Well. Except for his wife, who could be very scary, when angry. 

Damn it. 

Your face. 

Your face shows much concern, behind that slight bit of anger at the thought he was about to sneak to the Batcave, that he can’t hold it back for too long. 

To hell, if you were the only one who knew him perfectly, and had him wrapped around your little finger. You gave it back to him plenty. So, just as soon as he was telling himself he wouldn’t tell you the truth...He told you the truth : 

“No. I was-...I was just about to take a walk around the Manor.” 

You look at him, a question in your eyes. And you don’t have to ask him, as he answers : 

“I can’t sleep when you’re not there. Needed to clear my mind.” 

It makes you smile, of course. And it’s the truth, oh it’s the truth. 

He really can’t fall asleep, when you’re not near. 

You climb on the bed, and slowly move to him. 

“How’s Damian ?” 

“Asleep. His fever went down, finally. Thanks the gods.” 

“Was he trying to fight sleep, and argue to have another story ?”

“Oh you know he did.” 

“Haha, I don’t blame him. Anything, to keep you closer for longer.” 

“What a sappy man you turned out to be, my heart. Who would’ve thunk, right ?” 

“Don’t tell Clark.” 

This makes you laugh, and you move even closer to him, settling in his laps, facing him. His hands find themselves around your waist naturally, and as you lay your own hands on his cheeks, looking at him fondly and longingly, you say : 

“I love you, my Broosh.” 

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.” 

“I love you so much I think I’d die if you were gone.” 

“I love you so much I put up with your bullshit.”

“Hahaha. Cheeky. I love you so much I eat your awful gluten free cake without batting an eye.” 

“You ass ! Well, I love you so much I don’t even mention it when you call this disgusting mixture you make in the morning “coffee” “

“Oh wow, ouch. I love you so much I don’t even care about you criticize me.”

You chuckle a little, and kiss his nose, before adding :  

“I love you so much, that I wouldn’t change anything in my life. Not even the heartaches...Because everything lead me to you. And a life without you, is no life at all.” 

Admittedly, you cheated a bit, using his “I love you so much without you I’d die” against him, twisting things a little to pack a little more punch. And...

There’s a short pause, he looks at you, and then he leans over, slowly and softly pecking your lips. You think this means you won tonight, and you will be back in his arms in no time, allowing him to sleep properly...But you’re wrong. 

He says, after burying his face in the crook of your neck, in barely a whisper, his breath tickling you softly : 

“I love you so much, I would quit being Batman if you asked me to.” 

“Wait, what ?” 

You never asked him to. You never did, and never will. Because you were on of the only person on this Earth that truly understood him, and that loved him unconditionally. 

You knew and understood why he dressed like a bat each (or almost each) nights, to go fight crimes in Gotham City. 

You knew and understood all of his motives. 

And for this reason, you’d never ask him to stop doing so. But him admitting he would stop if you did ask, it made you feel...So much. 

It touched you beyond all measure. You didn’t even know how to respond to it. 

“Ah, I win, didn’t I ?” 

You had no words to answer. You knew how much you loved him, how much he meant to you, and how impossible it was to even envision a life without him. But he always  managed to surprise YOU with how deeply in love he was with you. How much he’d give up, just for you. How you knew, he would burn the entire world, if it meant saving you...

He would for his children, too. There was no doubt in his mind that if he had been to that warehouse sooner, and killing the Joker meant saving Jason...he would’ve done it. There was no point doing in afterward, once his son was already gone...But there, in the moment, to save him ?

He would. He would kill everyone, just to save his family. 

This was a side not a lot of people knew. They all assumed he wouldn’t do it, that he would let you or his children die for the greater good. That’s why considering, you guys weren’t kidnapped that much. 

Every villain, everyone, always thought that the Batman would not budge from his principles even if it meant saving those he loved. 

And they were wrong. They were so wrong. 

It was good, though, that only you knew that. 

“Ah. I win, didn’t I ?” 

You don’t have the words to answer him, your heart overflowing with so much. Overwhelming. So you go to the next best thing. 

Actions. 

You kiss him. With all the passion and love you can gather in your being. 

You kiss him, and he kisses you back. 

That. 

That was his night ritual. 

The only way he could fall asleep peacefully, like he used to when his mom and dad tucked him in. Before their death. 

Finding purchase once more, in your arms, after years of night plagued with nightmares and pain. 

Being near you. With you. In every way possible. Touching you, feeling you near. Right there. By him. 

The big bad bat’s “night ritual”, it was you. 

It was, and would always be you. 

The end (for good, this time, haha). 

_________________________________________________

As you might’ve noticed, I’m in a very soft mood lately haha. I guess I’m just happy about my current situation, so I wanna write all the fluff and make the Batfam happy...Not for long though. I have some mighty angst in store for you, just you wait ;). In any case, here’s to a small bonus story. Hope you liked it even if it’s not what I said I’d post ^^'. I assure you what I planned is coming, I’m just being damn slow. As usual any comments and reblogs are more than welcomed <3. 

PS : Last time I posted a bonus story, an anon wasn’t happy I wasn’t posting longer stories I said I would post soon haha...So just a quick thing : those stories I’ve been posting lately literally take between 20 minutes to an hour to write. It’s extra fast, and I don’t re-read myself. So I can post them rather rapidly. But those I have in store that are long as hell and full on one-shots I thought a lot about, not just random drabbles, need a lot more work. Which is why they take longer. Which I’d think is obvious to everyone (most of y’all are super understanding and nice <3), but I guess not huh...Please. Be patient with me. I’m super busy lately. But everything I said I’d post WILL be posted. I can promise this much. 

[jinxedpanda4life]

DamiRae Hospital AU?

  No I am not writing one, if I could write well I would though! So here are some HCs for a hospital AU.    If someone decides to write this then I’ll be your first reader. Also I am sort of basing things off of Grey’s Anatomy just a bit and my limited knowledge of the medical field.

- Starts of as 1st year residents, specialties may vary

- The “Titans” are residents and 1st years that show great promise, this doesn’t really play a role its just what people call them behind their backs

- Dr. Kori Anders is a OBGYN (women parts and birth) resident, a year or two away from finishing

- Dr. Richard “Dick” Grayson is is a surgery resident, trained by the hospital owner Bruce Wayne (who is a world renowned surgeon, has awards, etc), specifically general surgery

- Dr. Garfield Logan is pediatrician (kid doctor) res, bonds well with kids, but is considering going back to school to become a vet instead

- Dr. Jaime Reyes is an oncology (cancer doctor), having had cancer as a teen and is now forever trying to rid the world of it, works mostly with kids and teens

- Dr. Jonathan Kent is a physical therapist that works with pain management. Up beat guy and is always trying to brighten his patient’s lives.

- Dr. Damian Wayne is a surgical intern, blood thirsty little thing, hoping to become a neurosurgeon (brain, spine) (or cardiothoracic (heart, lungs) both are competitive)

- Dr. Raven Roth is an anesthesiologist (the drug person that knocks you out) and is starting her surgical internship (she wanted to do more than just help people get high essentially or whatever) has no current preference for any specific surgical field

- Add in characters:

-- Dr. Jason Todd, trauma surgeon (fits too well)

-- Dr. Timothy Drake diagnostician (medical detective basically) 

-- Dr. Donna Troy gynecologist

-- Terra Markov is a nurse (i don’t like Terra but nurses are the actual best)

- Story stuff:

- Damian and Raven meet as they are put under the guidance of the same resident

-Damian has an automatic dislike for Raven because she knows everyone already and is equally, if not much more, knowledgable about surgery, the OR, the ER, protocol, etc  He also thinks she is cold because she rarely shows emotion (pot kettle Damian)

- Raven can always be found in the medical archives researching old cases and studying new ones, Damian stumbles upon her when looking for an old cardiomegaly case (enlarged heart).

- Raven gets along with all of the past ‘Robins’ making her a go to intern

- Garfield can be seen whenever he is not needed trying to flirt with Nurse Markov and often goes to Raven to sulk 

- Damian and Raven are always early to pre-rounds and are typically the first ones there (usually early in the morning, getting there before 500)

- Jon bumps into Damian more often than not and they start becoming friends (Damian is reluctant at first and is still you know Damian about everything), Damian even recommends patients to him 

- Though Damian doesn’t want to really ‘hang out’ with anyone he reluctantly hangs out with the Titans, because of Jon and Dick

            - When in a large group when at a bar, club or whatever Damian tends to stay close to Raven because 1) they actually have things to talk about 2) she isn’t loud

- Raven & Damian are both assigned to a case that is frankly befuddling and have to start spending long nights and early mornings together to figure it out

- Over that period of time they learn things about each other:

-- Raven learns: 

Damian has a dog (Titus) and cat (Alfred) 

He is single (Kori told her) and lives in an apartment close to the hospital

He has lived in various countries

He is trained in multiple martial arts 

He prefers his tea with brown sugar and a slice of lemon 

His eyes are a true emerald color with a ring of gold and flecks scattered within 

He may hide it well but when Raven compliments him he becomes flustered

He speaks to himself in Arabic when he curses, trying to remember something, doesn’t want anyone to know what he is saying

He isn’t always an asshole

When he actually smiles a true and genuine smile, she has heart palpitations

-- Damian learns:

Raven has two tattoos (neither are a bird), a gang tat (she is saving up to get it removed), and a mantra in Azarathian; Azarath Metrion Zinthos

She immigrated from Azarath when she was around 8

Her notes are in Azarathian

She actually feels a lot of emotion and knows how to control them

If she is not reading about a current or past case she is reading any book or file she can get her hands on, he has caught her reading in multiple different languages; Azarathian, English, French, Russian, Arabic, Dutch, Mandarin, (could be more or less)

She lives alone and has a cat, Nevermore, and thanks to Dick he already knew she was single

She likes all tea, no matter how prepared, but prefers the sweetener to be honey

Her hair is black but shines purple, especially under the ER lights

Her eyes are a purple that at first glance look blue, like Elizabeth Taylor, he realizes though her eyes are galaxies on their own 

When she smiles the world actually stops moving, her eyes shine like stars and he never wants the world to start moving again

She always wears a necklace with a gold and ruby ring at all times (it was her mother’s wedding ring)

- When Damian starts having le feelings for Raven he considers actually seeking medical advice as this has never happened to him before

- Raven tries her best to contain her feelings when at work, going so far as one day a month staying home just to scream, cry and feel her feelings

- It does not help that new feelings towards Damian start popping up, especially since he starts bringing her tea and hanging out with her at work

- During the middle of their 2nd year of residency someone holds Raven hostage in the hospital to fix someone that person loves (this person had connections to Trigon and knew who Raven was)

- That was not a fun time for either Damian or Raven; Damian was outside the hospital pacing trying to figure something out with the other Titans trying to calm themselves and him down

- Shots are fired and when all is said and done, Raven gets shot in the abdomen and the hand (she was in ICU for a hot sec)

- Damian seemed to be there every time Raven woke up, he was always checking on her during rounds even though he wasn’t on her case

- Raven did have to have surgery on her hand and in her abdomen (idk where i’m not getting that specific), she hated being, in her words, coddled 

- Even though Raven was right handed (the one that got shot) she learned how to do everything, writing, eating, going to the bathroom, etc. (many of the other residents are impressed since she keeps working on it after her other hand heals)

- Raven’s room also becomes a space for other residents to destress and just vent about their day. She listens and gives advice, all without looking up from whatever she was doing. 

- During this time Raven becomes hooked on Pretty Pretty Pegasus

- Raven’s room is also full of cards, flowers, etc all from fellow staff and some from patients. When she leaves (she spends a couple weeks in thanks to multiple surgeries, recovery, and other minor injuries) all of the gifts litter her apartment, the cards end up in a box by her desk, she presses the flowers, and stuffed animals are donated to children’s shelter (she keeps some that she has grown attached to)

- During this time Damian is more of an ass than usual (people notice and tease him)

- Damian at some points keeps working without breaks/sleep for hours on end. Dick pulls him aside after noticing, scolds and forces him to sleep in one of the on call rooms. (He really wanted him to go home, but Damian wasn’t leaving)

- Once Raven was discharged Damian and Garfield help her back home (clothes + gifts + Raven w/a healing hand/other injuries = need help) the other Titans would have helped but were needed at the hospital

- Garfield leaves after dropping off Raven and Damian (and her stuff) as he is called in on a Peds case (could be fake, may not be) and Raven & Damian spend the rest of the time basically watching terrible movies. (with Nevermore sitting on both of them)

- That is the night Damian realizes that not only does he like Raven, but he like likes her. He starts devising plans on how to get her to date him. 

- All his plans basically are thrown out the window because of one reason or another (he kept overthinking it)(poor guy)

- It is not until their 3rd year of residency that Raven realizes her feelings towards Damian (Have I made it clear she likes him? I can’t remember...)

- She realizes her feelings when she has to crash at his place for a night (because he lives ridiculously close to the hospital, like how expensive is that??) and he tries to make sure that she is as comfortable as possible 

- She never realized how much he cared for her? Like she was always helping him out and there for him but she never realized he reciprocated that care? *Shocker*

- Raven becomes kind of a mess because of all her emotions that she is trying to bottle up. (all the corks are disintegrating and the jar is overflowing)

- Raven is during her Ortho rotation (bone surgeon people, they are cool, ik from experience) that she actually gets a good release for her emotions (setting peoples bones and drilling and hammering in pins is actually therapeutic) 

- Raven thinks that may be the specialty she chooses

- Damian saw her as a mess and could not fathom why she was said mess, he figured it was about a romantic interest after someone made an offhand comment about her love life and she became a blubbering mess (very un-Raven like)

- After all of well *motions with hands* that Raven asks why Damian doesn’t have a s/o or someone

- He says there is only person that he has been meaning to ask out (looks pointedly at Raven)

- All Raven says is “Go for it.”

And that is where my HCs end. Now if anyone who happens upon this post decides to write a Medical AU with any of these please tag me, tell me, message me. 

You do not have to give me credit, I just want to read it. 

This took me a couple of days to write up, so if it is disjointed I apologize. 

If anything needs to be corrected for any reason let me know!

 I hope this fuels some imaginations!

-I may post more HC AU things if they come to mind, we will have to see.

[fertileimaginationvault]

I Never Even Told You (part 2) - Superbat (DCEU Series)

During the time he had been drinking tea and eating pie with Clark and Martha Kent, Bruce wondered what he had gotten himself into.

The plan was simple. Make sporadic visits to Martha Kent, make sure she had everything she needed; try to make her life as easy as possible in Clark's absence, and leave.

It all worked out perfectly, until Bruce himself decided to bring Clark back to life. That alone would be enough reason for him to stop visiting Martha Kent once and for all and go back minding his own business in Gotham, right? Wrong. He kept coming. The quick visits became a cup of coffee in the living room, which became conversations accompanied by a cup of coffee or tea with biscuits and (countless) slices of pie in the modest farmhouse kitchen.

Two years ago, Bruce would sit in that same chair in front of Martha Kent while she cried, telling him stories about Clark, about his childhood, about how much she missed him. And all Bruce could do was watch her in pain, without being able to do anything else but saying how sorry he was and to accept as many slices of pie as she wanted to offer him.

Now Clark was back. He was alive in front of them, chatting and laughing with them, protesting the fact that he couldn't eat another slice of pie Martha had prepared especially for Bruce's visit. But Bruce himself couldn’t help but thinking that he shouldn't be there, that it wasn't his right to share a private moment with a family he almost destroyed. And all because he was blind with hatred. What a great irony fate has provided him... Clark was still pouting while Martha insisted that Bruce should eat another slice of pie and more biscuits and have some more tea.  “You should stay for dinner, Bruce, you look so wan...”, she said almost as if to herself. "Hasn’t Alfred been feeding you?" "He tries." Bruce allowed himself a rather bitter laugh, which became a smirk to Clark, who was watching him, resting his own chin on his hands, returning the gesture. "So you're going to stay for dinner.” Martha stated, staring at them with a knowing expression. “Mrs. Kent, I ...” "It wasn’t a question." “In this case,” Bruce accepted, feeling defeated. The relentless look on Martha’s face reminded him of Alfred, leaving him no choice. “I’ll gladly stay.” “Like you have any other option” Clark chuckled. “When Ma decides to feed someone, she does it.” “ I've notic- what are you doing?" “I don't think I've ever seen you eat so much food in one day!” Clark has taken his phone out of the jeans pocket to start filming Bruce while he ate. “I'm sending this to the kids. And also to Alfred. they’re gonna love it.” Bruce just glared at him in response, as if he could make the phone destroy itself by sheer willpower. “Ah, you're not going to stop eating now, are you?” "This is ridiculous”, Bruce muttered, still glaring at the camera, turning the simple act of eating a biscuit threatening. “Here we have Bruce Wayne, out of his natural habitat, feeding. Despite of usually hide in the shadows of Gotham, it’s known that he has come to the plains of Kansas to seek for eat human food...” “Clark!” Martha tried to scold Clark, but herself started to laugh in the moment she saw Bruce’s expression. “Pardon my son, Bruce. I swear I tried to raise him well.” “You are ridiculous." Bruce muttered to the camera and went back to ignore Clark, who was still filming him. He continued to eat, also trying to ignore how much Clark was laughing at him. “I know you tried your best, Mrs Kent. He’s just a lost cause.” “Hey!” Bruce could swear the sound of Clark’s laughter resonated throughout the house just like it reverberated inside his hollowed chest. It was light and pure as it was life itself filling him whole. He could hear that laugh for days without getting tired of it. However, Bruce knew that he should be content to listen to the small samples of it. Even though Bruce knew he wasn’t allowed to want that. ‘This is not for me’ he reminded himself ‘I don’t deserve that laugh. I don't deserve any of this ’. __________________________________________ Clark found Bruce on the porch, leaning against the railing as he watched the farm landscape bathed in the mix of golden and orange light coming from the sun setting in the distance. Clark got next to the other man who acknowledged his presence with only a side glance and a hesitant smile on the corner of his lips. The two remained there for some time, just admiring the landscape in front of them while Clark still tried to reassess all that has happened that day. Finding out that Bruce has been visiting the farm was more than just a surprise. It didn’t matter how long has been since their friendship started (even though it wasn’t that much) Bruce was still a mystery to him. He still had so many layers to peal off, so many sides to discover and uncover... it always made him wonder which one was the real Bruce Wayne. Bruce could be cold and distant most of the time but Clark knew that he was also kind to Victor and Barry, that he was patient and loving with his children, and very protective too. And now Clark knows he is a good company to Martha. Someone who comes to tea, someone who tries to fix her very old tv... and buys her a new one when he doesn’t get to fix it.

Someone who despite all that still keeps Clark at arms length. Regardless of their promise to trust each other more. “How long have you been visiting Ma?” He finally asked. “It’s been awhile...” Bruce answered without getting his eyes off the cornfield. It was clear that he didn’t want to have this conversation but Clark didn’t seem to care. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “You have every right to be upset-“ “I’m not upset about you visiting my mother, I just want to understand why did you think that you should hide that from me.” “You know why.” “Bruce,” Clark sighed, “I thought we were past this...” “Are we?” Bruce finally turned to face him, ready for a confrontation. “Well, yes?” Clark did the same, “If the last two years meant something at least.” “I just want to make sure your mother is safe. Since Luthor has escaped from Arkham she's exposed. We don’t know where he is or what he plans to do next. Luthor may try to hurt her again to get through you-” “Lex Luthor is my responsibility.” “Lex Luthor is our responsibility. I kept him in Gotham so I could keep my eyes on him and he has escaped anyway.” “You think he isn’t coming for you for being associated with me? What about your kids? You said yourself, he knows who you are. All of you.” “My children were trained to deal with this kind of situation. I know how to protect them and I know how to take care of myself.” “But I don't know how to take care of my mother because you didn’t trained me?” “That’s not what I- damn it.” They only noticed how close they were to each other when Bruce turned away from him, back at staring the cornfield, his hands curled into fists. “I shouldn’t have come here.” He whispered. Clark had lost count of how many conversations between him and Bruce became arguments. The smallest of disagreements was able to ignite a spark that brought all the tension between them back at its peak. However, Clark did not want to fight at that moment, and much less wanted Bruce to leave. “’I’m sorry, Bruce.” He came closer to the other man who turned to face him. “I don’t even know why I am freaking out about this, I mean, it’s good to know that Ma likes you so much. I was worried she didn’t...” “Were you? Why?” And there it was. The glint in Bruce’s eyes that always made Clark catch his breath. He couldn’t quite place what that meant, specially when Bruce watched him like he was a mystery to be solved. Clark only knew that he liked it. He liked how it made him feel, like Bruce thought of him as an object of fascination. He wanted Bruce to look at him like that forever even though he didn’t know why. “Uh.. well,” Clark swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. He couldn't believe he was blushing. They were about to throw fists at each other seconds ago and now he's flustered by Bruce’s inquiring gaze. Get a grip Kent. “We’re teammates an-and also, friends... right? You have done so much for us. It’s obvious that Ma loves your visits... and... you’ve been taking care of her.” Bruce shook his head, chuckling in disbelief. His brown eyes reflected the golden rays of the sun that was slowly leaving the horizon when he finally faced Clark. “You’ve been doing the same for me, Clark, remember? You’re always looking after my children, even though you don’t have to.” “They make my life way more interesting,” Clark shrugged, grinning at him “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” “Off course you wouldn’t... I guess it’s like you said,” Bruce took a few steps closer, leaving to Clark the decision to close de gap between them, and Clark had to remember how to breath again, “we’re teammates. That’s what we do.” “That’s what we do...” He echoed Bruce’s words, suddenly not being able to control his laughter that came with realizing a little detail. “What now?” “You tried to... fix the old tv...” Clark almost couldn’t finish his sentence for laughing so hard at Bruce who was staring at him blankly. “Yes, and...?” Bruce said, confuse with Clark’s sudden laughter attack. “That thing was a hundred years old at least. It was already falling apart when I was a baby. No wonder why you couldn’t fix it.” “That didn’t keep me from trying.” Bruce shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect less from you.” Clark couldn’t help but tease, “It was cute to try, though.” “I just wanted to help.” Bruce mumbled, glaring at Clark who was trying not to laugh at his expression (again). “And it took me last than five minutes to realize that thing didn’t need a repair but someone to take it out of its misery.” “So you murdered my grandpa’s old tv to replace it for a new one with 4k definition?” “Yes. It’s part of my diabolical plan, to destroy everything you have so I can replace it with new and expensive stuff.” “You need help.” Bruce only smirked in response, basking in the sound of Clark’s laughter once more, trying to ignore how his chest ached for having the other man so close to him and yet at the same time so out of reach. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, accepting to be pierced by the pair of blue eyes that seemed to look right through his soul. “I should have told you I was visiting the farm.” “Yes, you should have. You don’t have to do this behind my back and you don’t have to buy us a bunch of things either, okay? No more tvs or new tractors... what?” Clark exclaimed as he noticed Bruce’s expression “You think I wouldn't notice a new tractor? Who do you think helps Ma around here?” “I just want to make sure your mother is comfortable, make things easier for her... and for you.” “That’s all you have done for the past two years.” Clark squeezed Bruce’s shoulder in a reassuring way, “I just want you to know that you don’t need to buy us something every time you come to visit. Just bring yourself. That will be more than enough.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” “Thank you for coming here and spending time with Ma, specially considering how busy you are. It means a lot.” “The pleasure is all mine.” _____________________________________________ Clark’s hand slowly fell from Bruce’s shoulder, running through the fine fabric of the suit that covered his arm but wasn’t enough to keep Bruce from fighting to suppress a shiver down his spine. Something almost impossible to achieve when Clark took his hand. “Don’t stop visiting, okay?” “I won’t.” Bruce answered without even thinking twice. Something about Clark’s eyes were so compelling that most of times, he had to fight with everything he had to manage to say no to him. Yet, right now he couldn’t put up a fight. Not when Clark looked at him like that, like nothing else mattered  more than Bruce’s promise to come back. “You can bring the kids next time...” Clark suggested. “Clark...” Bruce sighed, already feeling like paying the price for not being able to say no to the other man. “For the weekend.” Clark continued. “Clark.” “And bring Alfred too.” Clark seemed to pay him no mind. “I can’t impose my presence or my family’s here for a whole weekend. I don’t even think it’s safe.” Bruce winced just to think about spending the whole weekend at the Kent Farm breaking Jason and Tim apart during one of their fights. “You won’t be imposing. Ma loves having the house full and would mean a lot to her to welcome your family. To both of us, actually.” Clark inclined his face to meet his eyes, smiling shyly, “And I’d finally have a chance to show y’all how charming Smallville really is.” “Fine.” Bruce sighed, not knowing if it was for Clark's big puppy eyes or for his lack of willpower to be firm in his decisions at that very moment when Clark’s grin was bigger than never. “You’re a good man Bruce Wayne.” “You keep telling me that.” Bruce let out a bitter laugh. “I won’t stop until you believe it.” Clark insisted, holding Bruce’s hand a little tighter like he was making a point. “Then, I wish you good luck with what I believe will be a torturous task.” “I’m known to be very patient.” “You’re unbelievable, that’s what you are.” “Is that a good thing?” “In your case, it is.” Bruce had to brace himself not to be knocked down by Clark’s bright smile. They were so close to each other now, Bruce didn’t realize how they ended up like that, almost pressed chest to chest, sharing the same air. Their fingers entwined.

He tried to move away but his body wouldn’t respond to such command. This was insane, he should turn away, walk out of that farm without looking back. He shouldn't stay so close to Clark, he shouldn’t indulge himself in something that would never happen. But Clark was so warm, his eyes were so honest, so inviting... but surely not as inviting as his lips, so close to Bruce’s own... It was so easy. All he needed to do was to move an inch or so and their mouths would finally meet. And all the feelings Bruce has been burying deep down inside himself for the past two years would finally pour out... “Master Bruce?” Before any of them could make a move Alfred’s voice cracked in the comm link inside of Bruce’s ear, breaking the sudden bubble that shielded them from the rest of the world, bringing Bruce back to reality. “Yes, Alfred?” He sighed, finally finding the courage to move away from Clark, who he thought looked disappointed for the interruption. He tried not to dwell on that, turning his eyes to the cornfield once again as long as he listened to Alfred’s report in order to focus on the imminent mission the Bat of Gotham would have to face that night. “I’m terribly sorry for interrupting such a private moment, sir,” the sardonic tone in the butler’s voice made Bruce want to roll his eyes, “I thought you would care to know that the Gotham Bank is being robbed... again.” “What’s the situation?” “Harley Quinn have found herself new partners in crime and thought the Gotham Bank was a good place to start her new endeavors.” “And I here thinking she would finally come to her senses after breaking up with that lunatic... Are there any hostages?” “The bank was already closed to the clients so only the staff were there. I've already sent Master Tim and Ms. Stephanie. Ms. Cassandra had arrived from training and is already on her way.” “I’ll get there as soon as I can.” “Very well, sir. Send my regards to Master Clark.” “Bye Alfred.” Bruce grumbled as a reaction to the mocking tone evidently present on Alfred’s voice and tapped the comm link closed, turning to face Clark again. “Duty calls?” Clark asked hesitantly, as if expecting him to say no, although Bruce knew he would be able to listen to Alfred through the comms even from a far. “As usual.” He nodded firmly, feeling his heart sink as Clark’s smile slowly faded, yet doing his best to ignore it. He had work to do in Gotham. The City needed Batman and Bruce had to leave. He turned his back to Clark, heading to the door to find Martha inside the house. “Mrs Kent? I’m sorry but I have to leave sooner than expected. There is an emergency I have to attend to.” “Caped emergency?” “I see you understand that very well." Bruce couldn't help but soften before Martha's understanding gaze. How many times has she seen Clark rushing out the door to help someone on the other side of the world? Among all the people in the world, besides Alfred, off course, Martha Kent was the only person who could look at him like that and make him feel like he was doing the right thing. “Well, hurry then!” She walked him to the front door, “And come back soon. Don’t be a stranger.” “I won’t, I promise. Maybe I’ll bring my kids next time?” He said hesitant, not believing himself for agreeing with Clark on that. “That would be wonderful! You should all come to spend the weekend. And bring Alfred too, I’d love to talk to him about your eating habits.” “Of course, Mrs Kent." he chuckled, " And let me know if there’s anything you need.” “I will honey, thank you. Be safe, all right?” “I will.” Bruce took his coat before saying goodbye to Martha who didn't think twice before bring him for a hug, and went out to find Clark on the porch. “I told you she would love to have the kids here for a weekend.” Clark look at him smugly. “You worry too much.” “I worry enough.” “Do you need a lift?” “No, I brought the bat-wing.” Bruce touched the small screen of his smartwatch and the Bat-Wing appeared at the other side of the field. “Was that invisible?” Clark gasped, turning to Bruce's unimpressed expression, like that was something he did everyday. “I wouldn’t say invisible, it’s in a type of stealth mode. Victor and I have been learning a lot from the mother box and using its tecnology to improve our equipments and defenses for the cave and the headquarters. It’s still in testing phase but I’m sure it will work fine in long term use. Yet is interesting that even you couldn’t see it... maybe we should run some more tests having you as parameter...” “Nerd.” Clark teased.

“It takes one to know the other. At least I think that’s what Tim says... I’m not so sure.”

“Look at you talking like the young people do.” Clark chuckled at Bruce’s expression while trying to remember what were Tim’s exact words. “You know, If you need any help...” “I know.” Bruce nodded again, and turned to Martha, still standing at the door, “Goodbye Mrs Kent.” “Goodbye, honey. Be safe.” "Bye, Clark." "See ya." _________________________________ 

   Clark stayed there, in the porch, watching as the Bat-wing disappeared in the distance. trying to understend what just happened between him and Bruce (or what almost happened). He wanted to make sure that it wasn't just his imagination, Bruce so close to him, their hands linked, their lips mere inches away... And the sound of Buce's heart, desperately beating inside his chest just like his own. What would have happened if Alfred hadn't interrupted them? Clark starteld at the thought that he wanted to find out as long as he stared at the sky, in the direction of Gotham where the Bat-Wing has disappeared to human eye but Clark still could see. “And there he goes...” Martha said, as if she could read his mind, while coming from the door to stay by his side. “Yeah..." Clark let out a heavy sigh, taking a few seconds to turn his eyes from the sky to find Martha by his side, her arms crossed and staring at him with a knowing expression. "What now, Ma?” “I haven't seen you sigh like that since you had a crush on Lana Lang. I remember how you used to sigh every time she would walk past us down the street.” “Ma..." he groaned, trying to fight the heat build up his cheeks. " I don't have a crush on Bruce.” "No one is saying you do.” “I'm serious.” “So you're here looking at the sky and sighing for no reason?” “We're just friends, Ma.” even though Clark chuckled at his mother's words, his own words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn't sure that he would say them again without feeling this way. “Alright...” Martha rolled her eyes, but decided she wouldn't insist. “I mean it!” “I’m not saying anything.” she tried not to laugh at her son, who was slightly blushed while trying very hard not to be. “Ma?” he called breaking their brief moment of silence. “Yeah?” “How long has Bruce been visiting you?” “Since the week after your funeral.” She answered promptly. “He showed up here one afternoon. I didn't recognize him from the start, I thought he was some reporter or someone from the government asking about you. But he told me who he was, and what happened that night... He felt guilty for not being able to save you... For trying to hurt you at first.” Martha’s gaze was on the horizon, like she could see Bruce flying his way to Gotham like Clark could. “After that he kept coming. Then I found out he had payed for your funeral, and he wanted to pay the debts when the bank took the farm. I didn't let him at the time, off course. I’ve told him I could do fine on my own and that he owed me nothing.” Clark took a few seconds to assimilate everything Martha had said. It never occurred to him that Bruce had asked for Martha’s forgiveness too, that he had taken upon himself the responsibility to take care of the mother of a man he didn’t know, a man he despised until the last minute. “Did he... did he tell you everything?” “Yes. It took me some time to digest it all, but I felt that he needed those visits as much as I did. I think he still does. When you came back, I knew it was him. And I thought he would stop visiting... but he still keeps coming here, once a week. Whenever he has the time.” “He... he never told me that.” “Didn't think he would.” “I just don't get him sometimes...” “And yet here you are, staring longingly at the horizon...” “Yeah... I mean, no! I...” Clark gave up on denying anything when faced by Martha’s unimpressed look. She knew him too well that it made pointless to lie about anything he might be feeling at the moment, even to himself. “You're right...” he admitted, helpless. “I'm always right. I’m your mother.” Martha hugged him by the waist. Clark returned the hug, resting his head on top of his mother’s. "I wish he would stay for dinner..." he whispered, taken aback by how sad he sounded. "Me too, honey.” She patted his back in order to comfort him. “But on the bright side, I have ice cream in the fridge and a new tv. What do you say?” “I say my night just got a little better.” “We're gonna have dinner and ice cream and we’re gonna watch all those old movies we both love...” “On your new gigantic tv.” “That thing is huge,” she snorted when turned her eyes back to the living room, “but Bruce was so worried he couldn't fix the other tv, I couldn't just say no...” “I know, he is so sweet... What now, Ma?” “Nothing! I'm just thinking... It’s good that he has so many kids, you know. I get a son in law and grandchildren in the same package.” “Ma, stop...” Clark and Martha had dinner and spent the rest of the night watching old movies on her new tv. He was glad she didn’t make any more comments about him and Bruce and their weird relationship. Still, her words gave him a lot to think.

As Clark has spent more time with Bruce, the more he has realized that the other man wore different personalities as different masks. The dark figure of the Bat, the inconsequential playboy facade, the emotionless person that pushed everyone away. Each one of them was a disguise Bruce has worn for years. Which made Clark a little more optimistic that one day he could get close enough to the point of taking every mask off, and reveal the real Bruce Wayne. He knew that was what he wanted for the past two years. Clark just didn't know what would happen when they get so close again like they did that afternoon, especially if there were no interruptions. He tried to shake that thought out of his head and focus on the movies and the ice cream he was eating but still keeping an ear in Gotham anyway to make sure Bruce and the Bat-kids were safe until they finally got home that night.

___________________

Notes: 

- It’s not the first time I write about superbat inspired by a song, and the song which inspired this was “I Never Even Told You” by Tia Carrere (hence the title), that is part of Batman: Mask of The Phantasm soundtrack;

- I had to post it in two parts becaus tumblr told it was too long - And I hope ya’ll liked it ;)

[soriseerakyra]

Until Death Do Us Part

AN: Last Part, first two parts  here and here...^_^. An anon asked that I do an alternate beginning where the boys find out first and I will eventually do that but for right now it'll be just these three parts. If you have any request for anything I’ll let you know if I’ve heard of it and if I can do it! Enjoy!

“Just sign the goddamn papers, Bruce,” She hissed from across the table and it caused the man to look up slightly startled.

 He’d been reading the thin lines of the contract in front of him and found his eyes stuck on the highlighted portions that had a large ‘X’ where his name was supposed to go.  When he married her all those years ago he hadn’t imagined that they’d be sitting here in one of his- no their conference rooms pounding out the terms of their divorce.

 He glanced up into the deep pools of his wife’s eyes and noted how coldly she regarded him, and how much that hurt. Her eyes had aged, she had aged and realized that he wasn’t the superhero she thought he was when she’d married him. He remembered how wide-eyed and innocently she regarded everything he did until recently. Even when she had assumed the role of motherhood she never lost the youth that had shined in her eyes. It was probably why she got along with all of the children so well. She related to them in a way that he never could.

 Her full lips pulled down into a frown as she narrowed her eyes at him, she thought he was stalling, and truthfully, he was. He’d seen so much less of her in the past months. He respected her wishes and had not come to bother her at the penthouse, not even when he was on patrol. The boys had taken it upon themselves to check around the building whenever they were out so he was confident that she was safe. When she would occasionally come by the manor, mainly to drop Damian off or to bring baked sweets she’d make for the boys and Alfred, he’d watch her from the monitors in the bat cave. He hadn’t the courage to go and face her, the thought of it nearly made his hands shake. He didn’t know if he would be able to handle her rejection.

 “Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” She asked after another tense silence. “All I want is the penthouse. You know I don’t want any of the company, your money, or that house. Just sign them so we can move on already.”

 Bruce looked at her pleading form and he bit the inside of his cheek resolute in his decision.

 “You know I’d give you anything you want,” he says as he picks up the papers from the desk and straightens them, before slipping them back into the manila envelope. “But I can’t do this.”

 When the words leave his lips both his lawyer and wife let out an audible groan while her lawyer perks up at the implication.

 “You want to take this to court, Mr. Wayne?” The woman, Ms. Thompson, if he remembered correctly, asks. “You know that can be bad for you.”

 He glanced at the dark-haired woman, her brow furrowed in faux concern. However, even as she forced her brown cheeks not to lift in excitement, she was doing a poor job at keeping her lips from curling into a smile.

 “She’s right Mr. Wayne,” Clarence Paige, his lawyer, nodded, his gray hair standing slightly on end. “No pre-nup, she’s worked here on your behalf for years, and she had to give up her own career. The judge will say that you impeded her ability for independence, they’ll give her half.”

 “That’s fine,” Bruce says leaning back as he watches the others in the room react to the news. He lets a charming smile curl across his face as his wife regards him skeptically. “I don’t plan on getting divorced.”

She doesn’t react to the statement at first, he isn’t sure she comprehended what he was saying, and when it clicks the skin around her nose scrunches in irritation, and he can’t help but chuckle.

 “This isn’t funny, Bruce,” she says arms stretched wide across the table trying to keep from getting angry. “Paige, Thompson, why don’t we continue this next week. My break isn’t much longer and I’m sure that Mr. Wayne has, I don’t know, something that he needs to do.”

 That stung a little.

 The lawyers look at each other, Thompson stands and gathers her items.  Paige looks at Bruce and Bruce nods at him in dismissal. He stands as well clearing up his files. Paige holds out a hand for Bruce to shake, and he does. The older man exits the room. Thompson stops when she’s next to his wife, the lawyer squeezes her shoulder in reassurance and the woman gives her a warm smile. When the door closes behind the lawyers, the smile falls from his wife’s lips.

 She lets out a sigh and gives him a glare, “You’re being ridiculous, Bruce. This isn’t a game.”

 “I didn’t think it was,” he says with a raised eyebrow.

 “I’ll take this to trial if I have to,” she tries.

 “No, you won’t.”

 “And, why wouldn’t I?” She says with a furrowed brow, eyes like steel. She’d definitely learned that in board meetings. There were times she couldn’t even fake being mad at the children, even when they royally screwed up.

 “We aren’t getting divorced,” he says with a shrug. He watches as a stunned expression crosses her face quickly, but she covers it. He stands and straightens his suit jacket.

 “For what reason would I stay with you?” She asked.

 “You love me, like I lov-”

 “You don’t love me, Bruce.” She says holding a hand up to pause him in his sentence. She shakes her head as if she was trying to get horrible thoughts from her head. “You don’t, you wouldn’t have done this otherwise. You wouldn’t.”

 He watches as tears filled her eyes and instinctively he moves around the table to be by her side. He pulls his handkerchief from his pocket, and she takes it. She dabs at the corners of her eyes before her make-up can run.

 “I can’t do this, Bruce,” she says as she stands. “Just sign the papers, do this for me. You said you’d give me anything, give me this.”

 “I can’t,” he says honestly.

She looks at him, stares into his eyes for what seems like hours but can’t be more than thirty seconds, and then looks away. Bruce backs away from the table as she pushes her chair back to stand.

 He can’t help but let his eyes run down her figure when she does. She was always stunning, even when she wasn’t trying, and it slightly bothered him that her work attire made it seem like she was attending one of his parties. The black vertical panels on the side of her dress cinched at her waist beautifully while the beige front and back complimented her skin tone and gave her a more professional look.

 She grabbed her brief case and swung her coat over her arm. She checked her watch and let out a sigh.

 “Because of you, I’m late for a meeting with the board about the funding for R&D” she says with pursed lips. “Any requests?”

 “Unlimited funding, is that possible?”

 She almost lets a smile past her lips, almost. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 He watches as she pulls open the heavy door that leads out of the conference room. She pauses.

 “Bruce, please,” she looks back at him with pleading eyes. “Do this for me. So, I can move on and you can be with her.”

 “I don’t want her, I want you.”

 “You already had me, you chose her.”

 He doesn’t get a chance to respond as she whisks away through the door. He can hear her heels click down the hall the further away from him she goes.

 He squeezes his fists in exasperation then removes his phone from his breast pocket. He dials a familiar number and waits.

 “Alfred, can you do something for me?”

 ***

You’d grown used to the taste of wine and it no longer burned when it hit the back of your throat. Still, you tried not to drink in front of the children, it’d only lead them to fawning over you and treating you like a baby chick needing to be protected.

 Setting the glass down over your nightstand, you watched from your bedroom window as the sun finally set and the last of the pinks and reds of dusk had finally faded away. As the darkness rushes in you hit the button on a remote and blackout curtains slowly descend over the large glass paned window.

Your eyes flicker over to the clock on the nightstand and watch as the red lines blink ‘7:45 P.M.’ at you. Another heavy sigh pulls its way out of your lips as you flop down on the gray comforter of your plush bed. It wasn’t really your color, but it still smelled like him and it helped you sleep.

 You were alone tonight, save for your maid Olivia, highly recommended by Alfred, paid for by an anonymous employer. It was the middle of the week, and none of your family would be by to visit you until the weekend.  Most nights like this you busied yourself with menial paperwork that you didn’t have to do, but that you needed to do in order to keep your mind busy. Other nights when you were feeling good, you worked on your designs for fashion line.  Tonight, however, you were mentally exhausted. Every time you saw him and a smile found its way to his lips, your heart fluttered like you were still a teenager talking to your first crush. You could almost feel your throat tighten up in anxiety. To make matters worse, when you know that you can’t avoid him you still chose things to wear that you knew he’d like. On days like that you scold yourself, you know how stupid it is. He chose her and you chose this.

 There were nights when you wondered if there was something about you that you could have changed that would have kept him entertained, kept his wandering eye in check, but every time you think it, the stronger part of you pushes the thought away. You and Selina were nothing alike. You didn’t look alike, speak in the same way, or have the same interests. You had never been the exciting or dangerous girl that had an air of mystery about her, that isn’t why Bruce married you, so that couldn’t have simply been the reason he cheated. If your crime had been any in this mess it would have been that you were naïve. Naïve enough to think that the emotional bond between Selina and Bruce would never amount to anything, even though it was the same type of bond that opened him up to you and brought you together.

 You supposed that was the worst part. Aside from the lying, what Selina and Bruce had, wasn’t just physical, he cared for her and you were sure she cared for him. Something deep like that wasn’t something that he could just cut off. He couldn’t just stop caring for her the same way you couldn’t stop loving him. There would always be a part of him that would yearn for her and you wanted that part to be completely and utterly yours. If you couldn’t have it, there was no point in holding out hope for him.

 “Ma’am,” a voice calls from your bedroom door.

 “It’s fine, Olivia come in.”

 The door to your bedroom pushes open and the dim lights in the room are made brighter by her movement. You stand and motion to the back of your dress.

 “Can you help me?”

 “Of course.”

 You hear the small feet housed in her kitten heels clack gently as she makes her way over to you. Within in seconds her small but strong hands have your zipper pulled down and the dress is pooling at your waist. You plop down again and you use your feet to wildly pull off your feels. They fling to different parts of the room and Olivia sighs in irritation.

 “Sorry,” you say looking at her sheepishly.

 “It’s quite alright, Ma’am” she says with a polite smile, but she’s scolding you with her stern green eyes. “I have something for you.”

 “Oh?”

 She pulls an envelope out of the large pocket of her dress and she presses the envelope into your waiting hand.

 “It’s beautiful,” you say in slight awe as you run your fingers over the gold cursive lettering of your name.

 “It was slipped under the door,” she comments.

 “I bet it was,” you say with pursed lips, “I told him not to come.”

 “I see.”

 You look at the older woman and she raises a pale blonde eyebrow at you and you say, “I’m nervous.”

 “Understandable, just remember that you are the one with the leverage. Where you go from here is all dependent on what you decide.”

 “I’ve never had to lead before, Bruce always did,” you admit. “Even at the company I’m just filling in a blueprint that was laid out for me.”

 “And yet no one is better at it then you are. Without you, where would Wayne Enterprises be?”

 “In the gutter, or at least out of our- the family.”

 “It seems to me that you’ve been leading perfectly well until now.”

 “Thanks,” you say with a small smile.

 “You are more than welcome.”

 You flip the envelope over and slide your finger over the of cream colored paper. When the seal is broken, you pull the contents from the envelope.

 “It an invitation,” you state reading the letter. “To a party.”

 “For what occasion?”

 “For me,” you say biting you lip as you feel you heart swell.

 “When?”

 “This Friday,” you say looking up at the older woman with childlike curiosity. “Should I go?”

 “Do you want to go?”

 “Yes and no.”

 “Why the no?”

 “I can’t think when I see him and every time I think about what he did I get angry or I cry or both. It’s awful.”

 “And the yes.”

 “Bruce throws the best parties,” you admit with a sigh. “And it’s for me. And even though I hate it, for the moment when I first see him I forget what he did and I can feel my heart pounding in my ears. A night like this, where I’m not trying to leave him, it maybe the last time I see him before we don’t mean anything to each other and we are just co-workers.”

 “You should go,” Olivia says after a pause. “If it’s to say goodbye let it be that, if it’s not let it be the first night you let the both of you begin to heal.”

 “I…Alright.”

 “Excellent,” she says and she’s quickly out of your room.

 “Olivia?” You question at her suddenness.

 “Here we are,” she says as she brings a large box and places it on your bed.

 You examine the large black box, there is no title, nothing significant about the box and your heart pounds in your chest. He has done things like this before, and it’s always something that makes you swoon.

 You tentatively lift the lid of the box and you were right to worry that you would swoon. From what you could see of the dress it was cream colored and covered in jewels and had a sweetheart neckline. You frown and close the box.

 “Ma’am?” She questions at your rejection.

 “I can’t wear this,” you say a sad smile pulling at your lips. “It’s too much lik-, I just can’t.”

 “Well then we need to go shopping.”

***  

He’s nervous and for the first time since he was a pre-pubescent teen he could feel his palms sweat. The worse thing about her not talking to him and not being able to go to the penthouse was that he wasn’t sure if she would actually come. That would leave him alone in this giant concert hall looking like a fool in front of the caterers and musicians that he hired.

 “Sir?” A familiar voice called and Bruce turns around to see the raised eyebrow of the man who raised him.

 “She’s not going to come Alfred,” Bruce says dejectedly. “I can feel it, this is a mistake.”

 “Sir I-”

 “I should have just gone to see her, begged for her to listen.”

 “I don’t think it’s necessary sir,” Alfred interrupts.

 “She’s here?” Bruce questions with furrowed brows.

 “Her car has just pulled up to the front of the venue.”

 “It’s time for the lights then,” Bruce says straightening his shoulders to regain his composure.

 “Very well, sir.”

 The moment that Alfred disappears behind a pair of curtains the lights in the hall dims and Bruce can see almost nothing save for a lone spotlight pointed at the entrance. In that darkness, he’s forced to wait for a pair of agonizingly long pair of minutes until he can see the point of her shoe come through the threshold.

 He has to keep himself from gaping when he sees her. He quickly notes that she’s not wearing the dress he picked out and it makes him question whether or not she enjoyed his taste anymore. She always wore the gowns that he picked out. However, the thoughts are quickly removed from his mind when he gets the full scope of her. The dress is a sinful red with a pair of matching shoes. It’s a sleek straight cut dress with a slit that goes up to a little above her mid-thigh. Her hair seems glossy even with the harsh light that is shining on her trying to drain it of its color. The dark jewels and make-up give her a more adult vibe then what he is used to seeing from her and he realizes that she’s different. Different then the slightly childish young woman that he married, and that despite all the things that she had done up until that point he’d never seen her as such.

 “Bruce?” she questions raising a hand to block the light. “What’s going on?”

 “You’re the guest of honor,” he says with a smile as he begins to approach her.

 She walks forward and when the two of them meet the lights are back to normal and she’s able to take in the full beauty of the concert hall.

 Cleared of seats, the floor was covered in a large amount of vibrant gold confetti. The walls painted with flowers, cherubs, and other heavenly hosts were decorated with white curtains and gold accents. The familiar tones of songs from years past floated through her ears and suddenly she can fill herself being transported to a time before all of the drama had begun.

 “This is-,” she pauses looking at the building. “You’ve recreated the whole thing.”

 “Yes,” he says with a smile as he watches her spin to look at the decorations and paintings.

 “No masks? I distinctly remember our New Year’s Eve/Engagement party being a masquerade” She questions looking at him with an arched eyebrow.

 “No more masks,” he says with a shake of his head. “Not between us.”

 “That’s new,” she snarks.

 “More like overdue.”

 Her eyes flash to his face, searching for his sincerity, then seemingly satisfied or uninterested she turns her head back to the venue.

 “It’s not much of a party if it’s only the two of us,” she says.

 “Two of us is more than enough,” he knows where the comment will lead, and he wants it to go there. He’d plan to wine and dine her, but seeing her here like this, he didn’t know if he could wait.

 “Is it?” she questions with a cock of her head. “I seem to recall it not being enough.”

 “It always was, you were, are enough. I’m the one who had the problem.”

 “That you hid and lied to me about.”

 She’s facing him now, arms crossed over her chest and good mood soured. There was very few words left that would keep her here.

 “Dance with me,” he says as the song changes. It’s a slow comfortable melody, that doesn’t require a lot of thought to move too. His hand his offered out to her and she swallows as she looks at it. Should she even bother giving him a chance? If she fell into his arms would she be able to pry herself out again? She doubted it, Bruce seemed to be in rare form tonight, something she should have expected when she got that letter.

 Against her better judgement, she slips her softer hand into his rough one. She feels the familiar thump of her heart increase in speed when it closes over hers and he pulls her closer to him. In an instant, she’s flush against his chest and his arm is wrapped around her waist guiding her through the dance.

 They sway in silence for a moment, both relishing the feel of each other again after a long ten months apart.

 “Even the song is the same,” she murmurs. “I can’t believe you remembered it.”

 “Of course, I did,” he says looking down into the glistening orbs that blinked back at him. “It was one of the happiest moments of my life.”

 She smiles with closed lips, and there isn’t an ounce of warmth that reaches her eyes. He knows why, and he knows that it’s the beginning of their issues.

 “I pressured you that night,” he says and she raises her eyebrows in surprise. “I thought to myself ‘who wouldn’t want to get engaged to Bruce Wayne at his New Year’s Eve party. It’ll be the talk of the town.’ I didn’t care to see how uncomfortable you were.”

 “You tried to pressure me tonight too.”

 “The dress was too much?”

 “A little,” she says honestly. “I don’t know where you got it though, I gave the other one away.”

 “I had a seamstress recreate it from the photo, I wanted to recreate that night, and do it the way it should have been done.”

 “We can’t redo that night. I’m not the little girl who is just excited to be in a princess dress and running behind Bruce Wayne. I can’t go back to that, I won’t.”

 “I don’t want you to be,” he says as he moves a hand to her cheek and rubs it over her cheekbone. He almost lets out a sigh of relief when she leans into his touch.

 “Then what do you want?”

 “You.”

 “You had me.”

 “I know,” he says and he pulls her slightly closer so she’s pressed tightly against him, similarly to the way she’s pressed against him when they are in bed. He can feel her chest heave against his as she takes a deep breath, and he’s relieved that he still can make her nervous. That she hasn’t lost complete affection for him. “I was selfish.”

 “Is that what you would call it?”

 “That’s the only thing that I can think of. Everything about you is perfect and yet for some reason I couldn’t see it, or didn’t want to see it.”

 “And that led you to cheat on me?” She questions.

 “Maybe,” he says honestly. “I can’t tell you the reason why I did what I did. I know that Selina and I could have had something once, and even while I was doing it I knew it was wrong.”

 “But?”

 “But I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to stop, and the only reason that I can even offer to rationalize my actions is because I knew that you would be there no matter what I did. That you would still love me no matter how much I hurt you. That I could have both. Selina and I had a bond that I should have ended the moment that I decided to be serious about my relationship with you, but instead I hid it, and it culminated into everything that happened. For that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you, and hurt you. I’m sorry I cheated on you and made you feel worthless.”

 She has an unreadable expression on her face as she stares at him unblinkingly, but he knows she’s thinking. For a moment, he can feel his heart speed up with nerves as her silence extends, but he feels alleviated when she leans her head on his chest, ear resting above his heart.

 “That night I was so scared, you know. In my mind, I knew you were going to propose, and I knew you were going to do it in front of all of those people. Stupidly, though, I held out the hope that you would do it when we were alone, that you’d whisk me away to some quiet corner ask then come back to make the announcement to the crowd. I would have been okay with it then. But you made it about you, and what would have looked best for you. I should have said no that night, knocked you off your high horse a little. Embarrassed the great Bruce Wayne, but I couldn’t. It was what you wanted so I gave it to you. I can’t do that anymore.”

 “I wouldn’t want you to, and you shouldn’t have to, especially after everything I’ve put you through.”

 She lets out a sigh of contentment, “I believe you.”

 It’s silent for a moment as they sway back and forth to the music.

 “If you do cheat again, there won’t be a Batman,” she says looking up at him with stern eyes. “I will literally bash your fucking head in with one of those stupid busts if you even look at that fucking woman, because that’s the only way I can think of for you to feel as much pain as I’ve been in since I found out.”

 There is no mirth behind her eyes, not lightness to say that she is joking. He knows that the threats aren’t real and that  in actuality her words are a statement of how insecure in their relationship she feels. “I won’t, I don’t think that I’d be able to bear watching you leave again. Or that Jason would let me live.”

 It’s quiet for a moment as she lays her head on his chest again.

 “I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to,” she whispers. “I couldn’t even sleep with that guy a couple months ago, even though I should have.”

 He’s quiet for a moment and when he feels his shirt start to feel damp he pulls her closer.

 “How could you, Bruce?” She questions, her voice small.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Did you cry?”

 “What?”

 “When I left, did you cry? When you saw me with him did you cry?”

 “Yes,” he says with no hesitation.

 “Good, if I was the only one that had swollen eyes that would be embarrassing.”

 “The first time I couldn’t open my right eye because it was so big.”

 “Frankly, I’m surprised you still have working tear ducts. Even after being with you for so long, I’m still not convinced that you aren’t part robot,” she says as she looks up at him with damp eyes, a sly smile spreads across her face.

 “If I was, I wouldn’t need the suit.”

 They chuckle and Bruce pulls away from her. He brings his thumbs to her cheeks and wipes away the stray tears. “I have something I want to ask you.”

 “What?”

 She could see his Adams apple move up and down in nervousness and she raises an eyebrow at his uneasy behavior.  When she sees him back away from her and kneel she has to put a hand over her mouth to hide her shock.

 Feeling deep in his pocket he pulls out a small black velvet ring box. He opens the box and reveals are large princess cut diamond ring sitting in a center.

 “Bruce-”

 “I know we still have our own issues to workout, that this is a little soon. But I wanted to start again, from the time that should have been one of our happiest moments, but started us on the path where we’ve ended up today. These last months without you have been some of the worst in my life. No one speaks to me unless they have to, and its left me with time to myself to realize that I was the problem. That you had been there for me, giving everything that you had, but I didn’t think that I needed to give you the same.  I didn’t realize that loving someone wasn’t just about providing, and I segmented you off as just another part of the person that is Bruce Wayne. You weren’t Batman’s wife, you were Bruce Wayne’s and that you weren’t getting all of me the way I was getting all of you. So, I’m asking you to marry me again, so that I can give you the same amount of love and affection that I should have from the start.”

 She doesn’t rush to give her answer like she did the first time.  This time, despite her love for him, she’s worried about the heartbreak that she’d have to endure again if he couldn’t keep his word. It also wasn’t just her that she had to think about either. What about the children? If this fell through a second time, did she want to have them choose between her and their father again? Not only that, despite how plagued with thoughts she was with him during her down time, she also loved some of the independence she gained by being alone. She loved the new understanding of herself she gained by being alone and doing a job that she loved.

 “I want to quit the company,” is the phrase that tumbles past her lips. He blinks up at her rapidly, confused, and interpreting her answer as rejection.

 “What?” He asks moving to close the box.

 “I mean, yes, I’ll marry you, again,” she says with a roll of her eyes. She holds her empty left hand out. She hadn’t worn her wedding ring in so long that the imprint of her previous ring had long since vanished. She could feel herself smile as she admired the ring when it was slipped on her finger.

 Bruce moved to stand.

 “Don’t get up yet, you still have some promises to make while your down there,” she says locking eyes with him. “Perhaps quit my job is too harsh of a word. I want you to start doing your job, at least part time.”

 “Okay?”

 “That means that there are going to be days where you have to come home and rest, and trust the boys to do the job you trained them to do. There are going to be consecutive days where I want you to be just Bruce Wayne, just my husband, day and night.”

 “I understand.”

 “I’m not done yet. At the same time, when you’re gone I’m not going to be sitting home waiting for you to grace me with your presence. I won’t do that anymore.  I want to start designing again too, and that means that there will be times that I can’t be Bruce Wayne’s date, he’ll have to be mine. I bought a building downtown that I want to renovate and turn into my studio. That means I can’t be there to run your business and mine.”

 “It won’t be an issue.”

 “This last part you might resent me for. But we have to go to therapy for this shit.” She motions to the space between the two of them. “Nothing about our lives is normal, adding this emotional baggage on top of it is bound to make it harder, not better. Because even if I want to trust and believe you, there won’t be a moment when your gone that I won’t think that you’re not with her. Even when I know better. That distrust will breed resentment, and we’ll be back where we were ten months ago and I don’t know who it will be the one begging for forgiveness then.”

 He pauses at the idea that a stranger may have to be involved in his personal life, something he wasn’t fond of, but she was right, the same way she always was. He nodded his agreement.

 “If I think of something else I’ll let you know, but for now,” she moves her hands to rest on his face and she slides the pads of her thumbs across his cheekbones. “Please know, that I’ll happily marry you again.”

 She presses a chaste kiss to his lips and quickly pulls away before he can respond, but it is honestly more than he was expecting. He stands to his full height and his arms are wrapped tightly around her waist as he buries his face in her hair. He’s holding her so tightly that she almost has to gasp in order to get air. She wants to struggle at first, push him away so she can breathe, but she finds herself pulling him closer with one hand and rubbing his back in a soothing motion with the other.

 It’s the tears she feels roll down her shoulder that do it. For the first time in a long time they aren’t her own.  The slightly choking gasp for air isn’t her own. And the pathetic nature of his cry is startling because it’s the first time she’s experienced it and she realizes that he’d been telling the truth earlier when he’d told her he cried.

 She feels guilty for the slight curve of her lips that is hidden in the depth of his shoulder and she’ll scold herself for it later, but right now she’s happy to know that she hadn’t been suffering alone all this time and that maybe there is a way for them to be a proper family again.

[unavenged-robin]

Children of yesterday

Direct sequel of For thine is the kingdom

Read on AO3

The second time Damian wears the Nightwing costume, it’s because he’s angry at Bruce. Not that he’s ever going to say it out loud, but Jason doesn’t need him to. It takes him just one look to understand.

“Hiya, baby Wing”, he greets him when the boy lands right on top of one the thugs currently trying to kill him.

“Don’t call me that”, Damian grumbles under his breath while he moves on to take down the next criminal.

Jason snorts and lands a few punch of his own, having care to never leave Damian out of his peripheral vision.

“Thought you’d like it better than baby Bat, considering the change of theme.”

Damian doesn’t respond to the barb. He just lowers his brow and keeps beating the daylight out of Penguin's’ men. Which, in a way, is exactly the answers Jason knew he was going to get.

But well, beating the lowlife it’s cheaper than actual therapy and provides a useful service to the community, so Jason’s more than okay with it. He still keeps an eye on the kid anyway, because he knows that kind of mindset and the troubles that come with it. He’s never been the family’s favorite babysitter for the kids, but he’s not a bad one, despite what Dick says behind his back.

But fighting side by side with Damian all dressed up in the Nightwing gears is a few degree of weirdness above the usual, and Jason finds himself distracted more than once. He has to put up with a few lame punches that otherwise would’ve never find their target, and yet he still keeps studying the new Nightwing’s performance.

The fighting style is so recklessly Damian it would be impossible to mistake him for anyone else. The cold precision of his movements, the silent and once-upon-a-time lethal fury, they’re all Damian’s traits, but the kid’s making an effort in throwing in a few acrobatics pieces that are unmistakingly Nightwing’s signature. There is so much more, though. The meticulousness of the beating is all Bruce, for example. The controlled sequence of punches in all the right places, the way he uses every surface and every shadows to his advantage. Jason looks at him and sees a much younger version of himself training in the cave, Bruce looming over him, the sweet smell of Alfred’s cooking in the air.

“Hood!”

There’s a knife in Damian’s hand. And there’s a thug with a broken arm at Jason’s feet.

“I had that under control, kiddo”, Jason lies lazily. “But thank you anyway, it’s so sweet to know you care.”

“I’ll stab you myself if you don’t focus on the fight”, Damian promises with a snarl, and Jason laughs because no, he will not, and they both know that.

It’s funny to think that Damian was a lot more of a threat when he was a scrawny ten years old who barely reached Jason’s elbow than he is now, at eighteen, not yet taller or thicker than him, but definitely on his way to (although Jason’s still cradling the hope for Damian to get just a little bit taller than Dick and still be shorter than him, because that would be what perfection looks like in his book).

Anyway, on any other night Jason would’ve replied to the kid’s threat with something along the line of “both of your daddies would be so very upset to hear that”, but obviously tonight’s not the right time to push that issue. Not if Jason wants to avoid a black eye and a long conversation about daddy issues where he has to be the reasonable party and not the angry one.

Besides, he’s not sure he could be of help even if he tried. Jason’s never asked too many question about Dick and Bruce’s arrangement about Damian’s parentage. He never felt the need to, and for the better part of the time, he was also in no position to ask anything.

When Jason died he had a father, a grandfather and an older brother with a pregnant girlfriend. When he came back he had a father, a grandfather, an older brother, a sister in law, a niece and two little brothers, and one of said little brothers was also his older brother’s son. It was ridiculous and borderline shakespearian, and it amused him to no end. Still does, sometimes, especially during Christmas family dinners and such.

Jason takes care of another few thugs, then he leans against a wall and watches the new Nightwing in town doing his best to adjust the few remaining criminals’ bones in the most creative way he can think. He should probably tell him to take it a bit easier, but a bad night is a bad night, and it’s not like he’s in the right position to scold anyone about using violence as a stress relief.

But once all men are on the ground, Damian’s shoulders slump down, and the kid’s stance suddenly looks defeated, even if he’s standing in the middle of an alley littered with moaning enemies.

So Jason sighs and pushes himself up. Walking towards him, he wraps an arm around Damian’s shoulders and pulls the kid closer to him and away from the thugs.

“Celebratory beer?”, he proposes.

He’s rewarded with a sideway smirk under the familiar blue domino mask.

“You would give alcohol to an underage vigilante, Hood?”

“Well, what kind of fun older brother would I be if I did not buy my little brother his first beer?”, Jason smiles back.

“The kind of fun older brother who would think that it’d be my first beer”, Damian retorts. “You’re worse than Bruce, honestly.”

“Oh, so he’s Bruce now? That bad, uh?”, Jason teases. “Well, at least he’s not Wayne yet, so if you want my professional opinion, I think there’s still hope.”

Damian elbows him in the ribs but Jason can tell he’s biting down another grin.

“Shut up.”

He doesn’t add anything and Jason doesn’t push. He’s never been one for touchy-feelings conversations and his family knows that. He ruffles the kid’s hair, then moves away.

“C’mon, brat, I’ll give you a ride home.”

Damian shakes his head at his offer.

“I’ll keep patrolling.”

Jason doesn’t know if he wants to sigh or frown at the idea. It’s not like Damian’s never patrolled alone before - far from it, actually - but it still feels like he has to say something about it. He just can’t decide what. So he keeps it simple.

“Damian.”

But the kid’s already taking out his grappling hook and only spares him a quick, stubborn glance.

“It’s fine.”

“Sure.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and Jason finds himself relenting almost immediately. He smiles behind his mask and waves his hand to motion for the kid to move on.

“You’re welcome, by the way”, Damian taunts before vanishing up in the dark.

Jason scoffs and fishes out a phone from his back pocket.

“Hey”, he starts conversationally, without giving the other the time to put in even a hello?. “Just wanted to let you know I spotted a wild Nightwing running around Gotham. Looked a little bit like you, but way, way younger and good looking. Know anyone who may fit the description?”

*

Dick knew since the exact moment he and Kory signed up Damian’s adoption papers that this conversation was not going to be a one time thing.

They talked about it before the adoption was finalized, and they talked about it after, and then again when Bruce came back. They talked about it during sleepless nights and tiring days, over too excited family dinners and boring patrols. They talked about it with Damian and Mar’i, with Tim and Barbara, Cassandra and Stephanie, with Bruce and Alfred, and even with Talia Al Ghul. And every time he talked about it, Dick felt like he had burning stones settled in his guts.

Tonight is no exception, of course.

When this thing started, he had no idea this is how it would’ve ended. Wouldn’t have believed it, if someone had told him.

When Bruce died and Damian came crashing into their lives, he was living in Blüdhaven with Kory and Mar’i. They had a house and friends and a good, long-established routine. They were happy, Dick remembers that. Moving back to Gotham was a sacrifice he didn’t do light-heartedly. Took a month for him to even start considering it. And when he did, he had to face Damian, this ten years old child who had just lost everything, living alone with Alfred in the empty shell of what it used to be his father’s house, and Dick just couldn’t bear it. So he took him in, because it was the right thing to do, and as a reward for his good action the first few weeks in the new house had been pure hell. Alfred did his best to keep everything together, but Dick was suffering, Mar’i was heartbroken, Damian was angry, Kory didn’t know what to do, and they were all mourning. On top of that the kids kept fighting and screaming at each other and Dick had lost his patience more than once.

That was the worst thing. Not bearing Bruce’s unwanted legacy, not training a new, arrogant, insufferable Robin, not even having to put up again with a city he thought he’d left behind, but seeing his family so broken. The fights with Tim, Cassandra’s absence, Barbara’s distance, Jason’s criminal rampage, Mar’i and Damian hating each other and being very vocal about it.

In retrospect, Dick really doesn’t know how he survived it. How they all survived to the anger and the blame and the constant suffering. And yet, he thinks now, smiling at Gotham’s cloudy sky, in the end they managed to do it oh so well.

He still remembers the first time he realized that things were finally starting to change for the better. It was maybe a few months after they moved to Gotham, he was pulling a late shift at the police station, working on a double homicide case, and he’d received a text from Kory. It was a photo, and at first he only saw the caption: two red heart emojis. Which, coming from Koriand’r, could mean anything, Dick had mused. But when he opened it, he found himself staring in surprise at two kids, one laying on his back, in a kind of funny, familiar soldier-like position, the other sprawled on top of the first one, face smushed into his shoulder, both deep asleep. Afterwards Dick had to admit that it took him a moment to recognize Damian and Mar’i (something Kory had found so, so funny).

It’s a good memory, one of his most treasured ones. He keeps it in mind now, while he swings from one building to another towards the coordinates Jason gave him.

*

He finds Damian on top of an old building, very close to where their penthouse used to be. It’s still a weird feeling, seeing him wearing his old costume, but overall it’s not an unpleasant one.

Dick lands on the roof with his usual quietness, but he doesn’t bother with hiding his presence. He knows Damian’s already spotted him.

“I have a joke”, he greets him then. “Two Nightwings walk into a bar, the bartender says-”

“Are you angry?”, Damian asks.

“No, that’s not how the joke goes.”

Damian huffs and reaches out to the back of his head to pull up a hood that’s not there. When he realizes his mistake Damian clenches his hands into fists before dropping them down on his lap. Dick’s heart hurts a little.

He sits beside him on the edge of the roof and bumps him with his shoulder to let him know that it’s okay, that angry is the last thing he would ever be, and Damian seems to understand the message well enough, but still refuses to look up at him.

“How does the joke go, then?”

“No idea. I didn’t come up with a punchline because I was counting on you interrupting me right away.”

Damian snorts and his feature softens in a way that Dick still finds heart-clenching, even after all these years. While he doesn’t mind doing it, he hates that he still has to reassure Damian that he’s loved - always, always loved - and that one burst of anger (because apparently they’re not allowed to call them tantrums anymore) is not going to change anything, not ever. Not for Dick, not for Bruce, not for anyone.

“You’re a ridiculous man.”

“Well, you’re a very serious kid”, Dick replies. “I have to compensate.”

Damian hums like he’s humoring him, and raises his head to stare at Gotham’s skyline. Dick doesn’t push him, but he reaches out to briefly rub a hand against the kid’s back in a silent invitation.

“Sometimes”, Damian starts, voice soft but steady. “I feel like he’s relieved when we go back to the cave to change after patrol and I leave to come home to you. And sometimes I feel like he’s angry at me for not staying, for- for betraying him like this.”

Dick sucks a breath between his teeth.

“Damian, you never betrayed him.”

“I did”, Damian objects. “I betrayed my mother for him, and I betrayed him for you. What does that say about me?”

“That you still have trouble understanding how this family thing works, kiddo.”

Damian frowns and for a moment Dick really believes that this time the kid’s going to listen to him. To, at least, take in consideration the idea that there’s no foul play here, that family is not an army or a political party. But he senses the defeat even before he sees Damian shaking his head.

“I made a choice”, the kid states. “And it was mine, not Father’s, and not yours or Kory’s.”

Dick remembers it differently.

He remembers coming back home two days after Bruce’s return from the dead to find Damian’s stuff packed and his bags piled up by the front door. He remembers hearing Mar’i cry and Damian refusing to answer her questions, the sound of skin hitting skin and his daughter flying away from them when he entered the living room.

He remembers Damian looking up at him, right cheek still red from Mar’i’s slap.

“He’s my father.”

And it sounded like a question, so Dick answered.

“So am I.”

It hurt to see the grimace on Damian’s face, it hurt even more when the boy licked his lips and looked away before speaking.

“It’s- that’s not the same thing.”

Damian was eleven by then. And Dick knew that all his reasons could not overthrow a decade of Al Ghul’s convictions about legacies and bloodlines. So he reached out and pulled Damian to his chest, hugged him close, kissed the top oh his head.

“You don’t have to choose”, he murmured into the boy’s hair. “No one will ever ask you to choose, Damian. Not me and not Bruce. And whatever you decide to do, no one will get angry. I promise you that.”

It was obvious that Damian didn’t believe him in the slightest. And in a dark corner of his mind Dick had thought that the kid was expecting not only a choice, but also the resulting punishment, and he just couldn’t shake off the idea that Damian was choosing Bruce because he’d expect a worse punishment from him than from Dick.

It angered him, but he was ready to let Damian go anyway. Because he felt guilty towards Bruce, because he felt like it was not his place, not his choice. But then Damian had tightened his fists, pushed himself closer to Dick and without even looking up, he had asked him a question.

“Then can I stay?”

That whisper had hurt him then, and it keeps hurting him everytime he thinks about it, because Damian never asked it again, not in words, but Dick can still hear it sometimes. Knows that Kory can hear it too. He hears it again tonight, underneath everything else, and he shuts his eyes close, inhaling and breathing out Gotham’s cold air with a sigh.

“It was your choice”, Dick agrees. “And Bruce’s. And mine and Kory’s. Kiddo, believe me, if we didn’t all agree that it was the best thing for you, then our arrangement would’ve been different, you know that.”

And at the time there had been indeed a lot of discussions about other viable options. But what Dick remembers better than anything else, was Bruce sitting at his desk, features unreadable as ever as he examined the adoption papers, his fingers hovering over Damian’s name and Dick’s signature, like he was looking for the right clues to piece together a story of which he only knew the ending. Like they were one of his cases to be solved and not just his family.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, so Dick swallows, then reaches out for Damian’s hand before continuing.

“And I know how Bruce gets. I know that sometimes it feels like that whatever you do is not good enough for him, that you disappoint him in every little things. But believe this too: even if that’s the case, and not only your insecurity getting the best of you, then that’s Bruce’s problem, not yours”, Dick explains softly. “As long as you do your best, as long as you feel like you’re doing what’s right for you, then other people's expectations are nothing more than a suggestion, something you have to decide for yourself whether to accept or ignore. That’s especially true if we are talking about parents, both biological and adoptive. We don’t always know best, you know?”

Damian makes a snorting noise but doesn’t pound in on that like he usually would. For someone who was born with a destiny and a carefully planned life, it’s confusing to be told that there is no great scheme, that life is not a war to be won. Dick understands that.

“You planning on keeping that suit for yourself or you prefer keep stealing it every now and then?”, he asks then, to lighten the mood. “Because I don’t mind either way, but replacing the locks every night could become annoying.”

“I’ll fix them”, Damian mutters. “Sorry”, he adds then, as an afterthought.

“You didn’t answer me”, Dick points out.

“Are you really only asking about your suit”, Damian muses. “Or are you asking me if I’m ditching Robin?”

Dick stretches his arms, clasps his hands behind his head and lays down on his back against the cold concrete of the roof. It takes Damian less than a minute to let out an exasperated sigh and follow his example. Dick smiles and closes his eyes again.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, kiddo”, he answers when he feels Damian’s head resting against his arm. “Just that I’m going to be proud of you whatever you decide to do.”

And this time, at least, Damian doesn’t question his words or the feeling behind it.

[hysterialevi]

cobblebats fanfic pt. 10

From Oswald’s POV

“You’re getting soft, Oswald,” Lady Arkham scolded, her head shaking in disapproval. “You’ve fallen in love with him...haven’t you?”

I scoffed at the ridiculous suggestion, shoving a hand in my pocket. The two of us were currently standing in Lady Arkham’s office, her back facing towards me and her staff in hand. After Bruce got that call from Alfred at the park and took his leave, I had received a call of my own not too much later from Vicki herself to the Children of Arkham’s HQ for a “discussion.” Apparently, she wanted to talk about my growing relationship with the billionaire. She was concerned that we were becoming a bit too friendly.

“No. ‘Course I don’t love him.” I countered. “Why would I? It’s all just an act. You know what his family did to mine. I’m not about to pass up the opportunity for revenge just because of some pretty boy whilst my mum and dad are still twisting and turning in their graves.” I crossed my arms. “Besides, ain’t this what you wanted me to do?”

In a split second, the end of Lady Arkham’s staff was mere inches away from my face, zapping with a violent, electric glow.

“I told you to gain his trust. To learn his secrets. To point out a weakness.”

The staff crept closer, almost to the point where it was brushing against the tip of my nose. 

“I did not tell you to become his newest slut!”

I waved the staff out of my face, glowering. “C’mon, it ain’t like that--wait, what do you mean newest?”

Lady Arkham laughed mockingly. “Do you honestly believe that a man like Bruce Wayne is capable of genuinely loving someone? He’s a billionaire, Oswald. He has more money than all of Gotham combined. He can have anyone he wants as long as he flashes enough cash in front of them. What makes you think you’re any different to him?”

As much as I hated to admit it, it stung a little when she said that--mainly because I knew it was true. I mean, Bruce was effortlessly making a fortune I could’ve only ever dreamed of achieving, and he was one of the most powerful people in Gotham, second only to the mayor. He had connections with both Hill and Falcone, and there wasn’t a single person in the city who hadn’t been affected by his influence. He was practically a king, sitting on a stolen throne. 

The Cobblepots, on the other hand...we were nothing but ants beneath his boots, a burden, an obstacle in the Waynes’ path to success--and his father threw us away like we were trash. And now, Bruce was thriving because of it. Why would he care about some lowly thug like me? Especially after everything I’ve done to him?

The answer was clear as day. He didn’t.

“Look,” I said, trying to come up with some bullshit excuse, “Bruce was obviously attracted to me in some way, and so I took advantage of it, all right? That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Lady Arkham chortled. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Cobblepot? I see the way you look at him, how flustered you become whenever someone mentions his name. And don’t even think that I don’t know about how you offered to help him save Dent’s broken mind.”

“How...?”

“Surprised? I have eyes and ears everywhere, Oswald. You’re a fool if you don’t know this by now. Nothing happens in Gotham that I don’t know about.” 

I bet you don’t know Bruce is Batman, you bitch.

She rested her hands on the top of her staff. “Though, despite your carelessness, I suppose there could be a bright side to all this...”

Her deathly glare landed on me. “Yes...” she said in thought. “Perhaps, there is no need to look for a weakness. Or perhaps, I’ve simply been searching in the wrong place.” She began sauntering in my direction, her eyes nailed onto me. A sense of worry suddenly began developing inside me. 

“After all, ever since Dent’s been shoved into that horror palace they call an asylum, Bruce has been all alone with no one else but his brooding self, hasn’t he?”

Lady Arkham came to an abrupt stop as she was hit with a pang of realization. 

“Then you came along. An old, childhood friend, here to save the day, and give Bruce the love he’s always wanted--to support him in these tough times, and give him a shoulder to cry on...” she placed both hands on the sides of my arms. “My dear, Oswald--you are his weakness.”

“I am?” I didn’t like where this was going.

“Yes! You are. And the best way to destroy your enemies is to strike them where it hurts the most. Wouldn’t you agree?” Lady Arkham reached behind her and pulled out a single syringe loaded with the vile, blue liquid. There was a hell lot more in there than what she normally dosed her victims with.

“Unfortunately,” she said without empathy, “I’m afraid this is bad news for you.”

Without even meaning to, I started to back away, holding my arms up in defense. “Now, hold on. What are you...”

She chuckled eerily, her low voice echoing throughout the entire room. “Hold still. This might pinch a little.”

Before I could back away any more, I hit a wall, preventing me from escaping. I was cornered. Lady Arkham continued to stalk towards me.

“Vicki,” I pleaded, “wait--”

Her shadow soon blanketed over my entire figure like a ghost, the syringe’s needle ominously glinting in the dim light of her office.

“No. I’m done waiting.”

From Bruce’s POV

“Thanks for your cooperation,” Gordon said as he headed for the front door, Montoya waiting for him outside. “And for the record, I honestly doubted you were really working with that lunatic Penguin.”

“So does this mean you won’t be arresting me?” I double-checked.

The lieutenant lit a cigarette. “Even if we wanted to, we don’t have enough evidence to do it. Some rumor--and an implausible one, at that--isn’t enough to get you behind bars. Besides, as shady as your family’s history is, it just wouldn’t make sense for you to be working with the man who stole your company.”

“If only my board had as much faith in me as you do.”

“Don’t I know the feeling. Don’t get me wrong--the GCPD has more than a few good officers like Renee, but sometimes I can’t help but worry about how all of...” he gestured at nothing, “...this...will affect them. It’s not easy to keep your head high in times like these. Discouragement often becomes a familiar face--something I’m sure you know well.”

I let out a soft laugh. “More than you realize.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Gordon stepped outside. “Stay safe, all right?”

“Yeah. You too, Jim.”

He shut the doors behind him and entered the police car, leaving me alone in the manor. It was still damaged from Harvey’s attack, and it was probably going to stay that way for a while, but as long as I had a roof over my head, it didn’t bother me an incredible amount. Right now, there was something else nagging me.

I checked my phone. No texts from Oz so far. That was odd. Normally, he always bombarded me with multiple messages until I replied. Maybe I could text him first for a change, and see if he wanted to resume our “date.” I began typing, eager to see his response.

I just hoped that whatever he had in mind didn’t involve too much physical activity this time. As much as I loved spending time with him, I was exhausted from waking up so early, and it wasn’t even afternoon yet.

Bruce: Sorry about leaving so abruptly earlier. You’re free to come over now, if you’d like. Gordon just left--without me, thankfully. Maybe we could hang out at the park some more.

I waited a few moments. No reply. Not even the three, little dots that appeared when he was typing. Oh no, he wasn’t annoyed with me for leaving, was he? What if he was irritated that we got interrupted? No, he was more understanding than that--as strange as it sounded. He was probably just busy. He would text me when he was ready. 

I shook the thought out of my head and put the device away, deciding to kill some time by watching the TV.

I strolled my way out of the foyer and to the cozy parlor, letting myself fall into the same, plush chair that Oz had fallen asleep in the other night, pressing the power button on the remote and relaxing into the cushions. Before I even had a chance to get comfortable though, I was already overwhelmed by countless photos of Harvey and Batman on the screen, reporters rambling on about how the mayor was committed to Arkham Asylum, his upcoming trial, and how the mysterious, masked vigilante was responsible for the “noble” deed.

As much as I appreciated the praise from the public, I knew it wasn’t all because of me. If it hadn’t been for Oz’s gift of perfect timing and intervening, Harvey would’ve definitely shot and killed me that night. It was the third time Oz had saved me so far.

I continued watching the news when suddenly, the distant sound of a gunshot erupted from within the manor, causing me to immediately jump out of my seat and whip around in confusion. I left the parlor.

“Alfred?” I called out. Nothing. I headed upstairs.

“Alfred!” I repeated as I ascended the staircase. Still nothing. I started feeling sick due to the anxiety. Oh god, what was happening? Was that really a gunshot? Or was I just hearing things?

I reached the second floor and looked around for a bit, unsure of where to go. That was when a muffled, heavy thud emitted from inside Alfred’s bedroom, like something--or someone--had just toppled over. I sprinted over to the door and twisted the knob. Locked.

“Alfred!” I shouted, aggressively shaking the doorknob. It didn’t budge, and I still wasn’t receiving any sort of response.

“ALFRED!” Silence.

Backing up a few steps, I decided to try a different method and took a deep breath, bracing myself as I planted my foot into the door. The sturdy material refused to break, but I could hear the wood splintering. Attempting it again, I kicked it once more, but with much more force, causing the door to finally slam open and bounce slightly off the adjacent wall as it slowly unveiled the horrifying scene inside.

I froze.

“...Alfred?”