Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au
"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"
Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.
He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.
It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.
Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.
It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.
Because it really only meant one thing.
Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.
Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.
Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.
This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?
It would be a firestorm.
One that Vlad is not keen on starting.
It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.
It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.
His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.
"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.
Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.
He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.
The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.
He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.
"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.
Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.
But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.
Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.
"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."
Bastard.
For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.
But, well.
They all have their dark secrets.
And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.
"I see."
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Let me get a taste
{ao3 link}
“Hen asked if we’re fucking,” Tommy says as he sits down at their table with his cake.
“Uh, what?” Buck asks. There’s no way he heard Tommy correctly.
“Hen asked if we’re fucking,” Tommy repeats. He gestures between them with his fork. “You and me. Well, I guess technically she and Karen both asked. They ambushed me to ask about my intentions.”
He takes a bite of cake and eats it slowly, moaning at the taste, just to be an asshole and rub it in Buck’s face that he can’t have any. Buck sometimes wishes he was the kind of person who found that annoying, but he likes it when Tommy does stuff like this; teases him and plays with him just this side of mean. Really likes it. And Tommy knows it.
“What’d you say?” Buck asks, a little dazed, caught in the fantasy of licking frosting off of Tommy’s lip.
He wants cake so badly. It’s bad enough he had to skip the mac & cheese at the buffet, now this? The cake on Tommy’s plate looks soft and fruity. Fuck keto. Fuck bodybuilding. It’s not fair.
Tommy licks frosting off of his fork and Buck salivates. “I told them we’re taking it slow. You’re setting the pace, and I’m just trying to keep up.” He lifts an eyebrow and savors another bite of cake
Buck laughs. “You made it sound like we’re fucking like rabbits.”
“Mhmm,” Tommy says around the cake in his mouth.
“And you… also said we’re taking it slow?” Buck’s eyebrows pull together in confusion.
“I did. They’re gonna have a hell of a time figuring that one out.” Tommy smiles as he takes the next bite of cake, obviously proud of the trick he’s played on their friends.
“You might be evil,” Buck teases.
“You love it,” Tommy says, scrunching his nose. “And anyway, it’s none of their business. You’re not a teenage girl in 1954, going out with some biker from the wrong side of the tracks. You’re a grown man. You can suss out my intentions for yourself. I’d hope you know by now that I didn’t agree to a second date at your sister’s wedding just to get in your pants.”
“I do know that,” Buck assures him. Their sex life is pretty active—very satisfying—but they’ve spent far more time talking, working out, cooking, and even cuddling than they have with their dicks out. It’s probably the most well-rounded relationship Buck has ever had. He feels respected. “You’re a total gentleman.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I have to admit,” Tommy pitches his voice down, “seeing you in that medal… I’m feeling a little less than honorable right now.” He gathers the last bite of cake onto his fork.
Buck feels a thrill run through his body at Tommy’s words, but he’s watching that cake with rapt attention. “Give me the last bite,” he says. He sounds pleading even to his own ears, so he doubles down. “Tommy, please.”
“No,” Tommy deadpans. “If you’re gonna break ketosis, you’re gonna do it with someone else’s cake.”
“I don’t want someone else’s cake, baby, I want yours.” Buck goes for charming, flirty, seductive, but he’s desperate. He hasn’t had any carbs in days and the cake smells so good. He’s about to launch himself at Tommy and take that last forkful of cake himself.
“Mmm, lucky me,” Tommy purrs. “Pretty boy wants my cake all to himself and here I am, just trying to keep up.”
Tommy pops the cake into his mouth just as Buck lunges at it. His hand lands on Tommy’s empty plate.
“Evil!” Buck gasps, laughing.
“You love it,” Tommy repeats around his mouthful of cake.
“I really do.”
Tommy barely has time to swallow before Buck is kissing him; open-mouthed and honestly a little too dirty considering where they are and which homophobic captains are still around. Buck is chasing the taste of cake and frosting on Tommy’s lips, on his tongue, and he can’t help but moan as the flavors swirl and burst to life in his mouth: vanilla and strawberry and Tommy. He’s never tasted anything better.
Tommy pulls back before Buck starts licking the sugar off of his teeth. He presses a hand into Buck’s chest to gently push him back into his seat.
“Easy there, Evan. We’re still in public.”
“We got medals for breaking the law.” Buck’s eyes are dark, hungry. Now that he’s had a taste he wants seconds, thirds. Tommy’s been teasing him and all Buck wants is to get his mouth back on Tommy and never come up for air. “We can do whatever we want.”
Tommy laughs. “If only that were true. Save your appetite, though. I might have some cake you can eat at home.” He smirks, eyebrow raised. “If you behave.”
Buck smiles, wide and flirty. “Is it keto-friendly?” He leans closer again.
“All protein, baby.”
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