#gen's cave scrawlings

[selkienight60]

°𐐪♡  𝔻 𝕀 𝕊 𝕋 ℝ 𝔼 𝕊 𝕊   𝕊 𝕀 𝔾 ℕ 𝔸 𝕃  ♡𐑂°

∘₊✧── 🌲 ──✧₊∘  ∘₊✧── 🌲 ──✧₊∘

| Rating: Teen and Up Audiences | Warnings: No Warnings Apply | Category: Gen | Fandoms: Red Robin  ─ ✩ ─ Batman: All Media Types  ─ ✩ ─ DCU | Relationship(s): Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Batfamily Members | Additional: Broken Bones, Misunderstandings, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake Has Mental Health Issues, Tim Drake Has Abandonment Issues, Distress Signals, Damian Wayne has a Heart, Damian Learned How to Be a Good Brother and Now Feels Bad, Bruce Wayne Is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne Loves His Children, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tim Drake-centric, Batfamily Dynamics, Angst With a Happy Ending |

Summary:  

Pages and pages of distress calls, each one recorded, dated, and filed away. With a few efficient taps Jason narrows the search. The screen goes from lists of white, answered signals, to a flood of red.

04/02 - 10:21 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED. 04/02 - 10:22 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED. 04/02 - 10:24 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED. 03/16 - 03:38 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED. 03/16 - 03:40 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED. 05/18 - 00:14 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED.

Read Distress Signal by sElkieNight60 on Archive of our Own or below the cut!

∘₊✧── 🌲 ──✧₊∘  ∘₊✧── 🌲 ──✧₊∘

The cave is neither empty nor quiet when Tim limps in on Redbird, broken wrist awkwardly cradled against his chest.

The scene he walks into is a familiar one.

By the Batcomputer, Batman and Orphan are huddled together conspiratorially. Both hold freshly brewed mugs of coffee between their hands. Their eyes wander about the room askance, as though daring some fool to attempt to steal their liquid gold.

Just beside Orphan there is a ratty green couch that Tim had once convinced Bruce to bring down during his tenure as Batman’s sidekick. It is still there, and in it sits the current Robin, irritably hunched over and scowling, muttering away about some recent injustice either Batman or Nightwing has dealt him, his palms wrapped around a hot mug of cocoa.

An almost musical warbling can be heard coming from the showers. Steph’s sonorous vocals, somewhere between a screech and a bellow, nearly drown out the whiny male lead of whatever punk-rock band she is currently obsessing over. The smell of her honey soap and lemongrass shampoo wafts throughout the cave, pleasantly mixing and mingling with the earthy tones of the still steaming Keurig.

Over by the armoury, a maskless Red Hood steadfastly cleans what appears to be dried blood and sewerage from his uniform. Rag in hand and half perched on a steel table, he looks relatively cheerful considering the task, exchanging sarcastic banter with the dark-haired, blue-eyed vigilante beside him, the eldest of Batman’s brood, Nightwing.

With the dying remains of a laugh on his face, Dick looks up first, the expected ‘you’re late’ quip fleeing along with his laid-back expression.

Carefree calm morphs into shock horror instantly.

If Tim had known beforehand just how off his intel was, he would have left the warehouse by the docks for another night, a night he was sure he would have backup on hand if he needed it. Which he had. Desperately.

It should have been an easy take down, no more than ten men in total.

It was more than double.

The peaceful atmosphere of the cave vanishes with Nightwing’s vocal alarm.

It seems too late to hope he doesn’t look as bad as he feels.

Jason’s bloodied jacket slips from Dick’s hands and falls to the floor with a dull thud.

Mouth parted, eyes wide, and panic scrawled over every inch of his face, Dick strides over in just a few easy steps.

“Holy— what the hell happened to you?”

Eyes scan him unscrupulously, Dick’s hands fluttering but never landing, unsure where to touch.

“Oh god, that’s broken— Bruce. BRUCE!”

From the hideous moss coloured couch, Damian ceases his mutterings and glances up. The horrible yowling music coming from the showers stops too, along with the hiss of water through the plumbing.

Jason is quick to sidle up alongside before muscling Dick out the way to let Tim through to the medbay.

Bruce catches up with them just as Tim hops up on the clinical cot.

Unable to hide the wince, the reassuring smile he means to offer his quickly gathering family turns into little more than a pained grimace.

Hair still wet, Steph emerges from the showers.

Jason brings over the medkit.

Damian scuttles over to peer up at Tim from the foot of the bed.

The cave is suddenly a hive of activity and Tim feels a little lost amongst it all.

Out of habit, while Bruce works on creating a temporary splint, Tim rattles off a shaky rendition of a typical debrief.

“—unanticipated amount of assailants,” he distantly hears himself say. “—clipped my comms. Tried radioing in several times before I realised the damn thing was broken.”

Bruce wears worry like he wears the cape—too easily. It doesn’t help the guilt welling up inside of him. Not for the first time, he’s let the man down.

It’s not like he’s green, either. Tim is a seasoned vigilante, he can do better. Be better.

Pinned in place by the shrewd stares locked onto him, Tim patiently waits as Bruce begins to bind his wrist. It’s not meant to be permanent. Just until they can get a cast on him.

Dick continues to assess, rattling off the rest of Tim’s visible injuries to Steph. One by one she takes them down, noting them in Tim’s medical file. Adding them to his list of failures.

Alfred appears from nowhere as if by magic, taking over the splint.

A blanket makes its way around Tim’s shoulders.

“How long have you been working on this case alone?” Dick asks when he finally pauses to draw breath.

Tim almost shrugs, before thinking better of it. “I don’t know, a couple weeks I guess? It’s not my first solo flight, you know.”

Strangely, Dick looks mildly vexed. It serves only to annoy Tim.

“I know,” Dick begins, face tight with concern. “But—”

Bruce interrupts. “What Dick means to say,” he cuts in over top. “Is that you should have called us for backup.”

They’ve already covered this.

Exhausted, frustrated, Tim snaps.

“I told you,” he spits out, glaring back. “I tried! My comm broke!”

Placating palms rise. “I know,” Bruce mollifies, softening his tone. “But you have any number of distress beacons sewn into your suit, sport. If you’re in trouble, use them. I don’t know if it’s a pride thing, or—”

“Are you serious?” Tim interjects, barely biting back the harsh, cynical scoff. “Like that’s ever gonna happen.”

Bruce frowns, worry made more obvious in the harsh light of the medbay. “Of course I’m serious—”

“Listen, I screwed up, I get it. But B—” he huffs, ready to chop off his own ears if it means he doesn’t have to listen to whatever weird attempt at parenting this is. “When was the last time you actually answered my distress calls?”

For some inexplicable reason, Bruce has the audacity to look wounded. The hurt bleeds into the lines on his face. The crows feet by the sides of his eyes scrunch up as his lips part. His mouth falls.

Tim sees more than hears the sharp inhale that comes next.

“How can you say that?” Bruce whispers a little hoarsely, sounding as though someone has punched all the air out of him. “I always answer your distress signals.”

Squinting, Tim stares up at him, searching for the lie. There isn’t one.

It just… it doesn’t make sense.

Because it’s not true either.

“What are you talking about?” he laughs shakily, feeling strangely numb. His gaze drops to the loose thread poking out of his suit. “B… no one has answered my distress signals for almost ten months.”

The cave falls utterly silent. Every vigilante in the room stills. Only the quiet and ever present chittering of the bats in the tunnels can be heard.

Colourless and unmoving lips manage to stutter out half a: “What?”

“It’s fine, B,” Tim hurries to add, then throws in a pale facsimile of a grin. “Not like I’m dead yet. I get it, I do. Training wheels gotta come off at some point, right? Can’t keep relying on big ol’ daddy bats, I know. ”

It was all by design, right? It was Bruce’s idea, right? Meant to get him thinking, meant to remind him that going in over one's head got Robins’ killed.

Tim waits for the laugh. The chuckle. For Bruce to stop playing.

It never comes.

Slowly, carefully, he looks back up.

Bruce looks back at him as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Which is funny, in its own ironic way, because he isn’t dead.

“Ten months?!”

A new and horrible fear is beginning to dawn on him. A horrible fear that perhaps Bruce had not known all this time. That it was not on purpose, not by design.

“Y...eah?” Tim squeaks back, tone curling up.

Jason turns on his heel and splinters from the group, but Tim hardly notices. His head feels woozy. He feels nauseous. His stomach roils in protest.

Then Dick follows, and Tim tracks his walk to the Batcomputer.

Screen after screen of logs are pulled up, one by one.

Tim feels like he’s floating. Disconnected from his arms and legs. Disconnected from his face and from his voice.

Uneasily curious now, he slides off the cot gingerly as Alfred finishes wrapping the sling behind his neck.

Bruce follows half a step behind as he makes his way over, eyes similarly glued to the enormous computer screen.

The closer Tim gets the more clearly he can see the logs Jason has pulled up.

Pages and pages of distress calls, each one recorded, dated, and filed away.

04/11 - 00:22 NIGHTWING - RESPOND: BATMAN.

04/17 - 01:34 NIGHTWING - RESPOND: RED HOOD.

05/16 - 01:20 SPOILER - RESPOND: ORPHAN.

05/16 - 02:00 ROBIN - RESPOND: RED HOOD.

06/01 - 02:02 NIGHTWING - RESPOND: SPOILER.

06/27 - 00:10 BATMAN - RESPOND: NIGHTWING.

06/19 - 11:37 ROBIN - RESPOND: ORPHAN.

07/03 - 11:55 ORPHAN - RESPOND: BATMAN.

With a few efficient taps Jason narrows the search.

The screen goes from lists of white, answered signals, to a flood of red.

04/02 - 10:21 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED.

04/02 - 10:22 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED.

04/02 - 10:24 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED.

03/16 - 03:38 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED.

03/16 - 03:40 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED.

05/18 - 00:14 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED.

05/18 - 00:15 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED.

05/18 - 00:15 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED.

04/18 - 00:17 RED ROBIN - RESPOND: DISTRESS SIGNAL REROUTED.

Although Tim only gets the briefest glimpse of Bruce’s face, what he sees is swollen with equal parts surprise, horror, and grief.

Pushing past him and then muscling between Dick and Jason, he all but falls into the computer chair and begins tapping away at the keyboard, clicking through the logs, looking for errors, for inconsistencies, for anything that would seek to explain why it seemed only Tim’s calls were getting rerouted.

“I don’t understand,” Bruce admits, voice cracking harshly. “It doesn’t make any sense?”

His eyes never waver from the screen. There’s a keen desperation to them.

An unexpectedly small voice pipes up.

Damian, half-hidden behind Alfred and leagues away from Bruce, clears his throat with a wince.

“I… know why.”

Every head in the room swivels at the same time.

Dick’s face falls.

Tim doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man look so disappointed.

“Dami… no.”

Damian does not manage to conceal the flinch.

His gaze drops to his feet.

“It… it was me,” he admits. “I did it.”

Tim hears Bruce get out of his seat, but he doesn’t take his eyes from Damian.

“Son,” he starts, and his voice shatters. It splinters into a million different pieces. He’s so disappointed. He’s horrified. He’s angry. He’s upset. “Damian, why? Why would you do something like this?”

The youngest vigilante balls his hands into fists by his side. There’s a tear, followed by several more, followed by a waterfall.

And his voice is so, so tiny when he answers.

“I forgot,” he admits. “I did it… I did it when I first arrived. When Drake and I were still… at odds. I just. He left… after. And I… I forgot to change it back.”

Bruce wastes no time.

In less than a minute he has Damian gently by the wrist and they’re heading straight for Tim.

Bruce doesn’t say anything at all.

It’s quite clear that he doesn’t need to.

Damian is bawling his eyes out.

Without warning, Tim has two tiny arms around his waist, hugging him, clinging to him fiercely, apologies blubbering out between wet, heavy sobs.

Lightly, Tim places his uninjured hand atop Damian’s soft locks. It’s not forgiveness, but at the same time, it is.

His fingers card through the kid’s hair.

Damian clings all the more tightly.

It isn’t long before Tim looks up, only to find Bruce staring at him. Still worried, still terrified, still scared out of his mind at the new knowledge that he came so close to losing Tim so many times. But the mix of expressions lifts the heavy weight from Tim’s chest.

He feels a hot tear roll down his cheek. It lops off his chin and falls to the ground below. He brushes it away roughly, giving an awkward little chuckle.

“I didn’t know,” he says with a tiny wet laugh and a shake of his head. “I just thought… well, I guess I just thought… because it was me…”

Bruce doesn’t give him the opportunity to say any more. Suddenly, he’s being gently crushed against a broad chest. Bruce is mindful of his arm, but Tim finds he hardly cares anyway.

He’d trade a thousand broken arms any day for this new weightlessness.

“I’m sorry,” Damian sobs quietly, face still pressed against Tim’s kevlar clad torso.

The words are mirrored in Bruce’s expression.

“You’re home,” he says instead, dropping a heavy kiss to Tim’s crown. “You’re safe. You’re here. That’s all that matters. The rest we can fix.”

And suddenly he is all of ten again, his faith unwavering, so small under Bruce’s hefty promises

Yeah.

Damian shudders in his arms.

The rest?

They can fix.

∘₊✧── 🌲 ──✧₊∘  ∘₊✧── 🌲 ──✧₊∘

Notes:

The guilt sticks with Damian for months. Every time a distress signal comes in, he answers it. Red Robin doesn't send out many. Tim isn't sure he can trust it. But every time he sends one out, Robin answers. They start to team up. They begin to bond. Over little things at first -- mutual dislike of Gordon's favourite trenchcoat, rum and raisin ice-cream, art -- but slowly it begins to grow. Slowly they get closer, until one day Bruce walks in on them watching Homeward Bound, with Damian almost asleep, snuggled up against Tim's side in a beanbag.

∘₊✧── 🌲 ──✧₊∘  ∘₊✧── 🌲 ──✧₊∘

🌸 ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʙʏ ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏʀ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢɢɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ sʜᴀʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs! 🌸 ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ! 🌸 ᴄᴏɴsᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪsᴍ ɪs ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏʀᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴜᴅᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ. 🌸 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ!

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

Soulmates - AUgust Day 3

Title: Soulmates

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: n/a

Relationship: Tony Stark/Sam Wilson

Link: Read on AO3

Summary:  What are soulmates? Soulmates are two (or more) people who join to make a whole.  Sam Wilson knows he has one, but he’s unsure if his soulmate is going to want to meet him. Written across his tricep are the words So, you’re Steve’s right hand man? Sam isn’t quite sure, but he senses suspicion in these words.

They popped up when he turned fifteen. The only Steve he knew was the school bully, and he really hoped he didn’t meet his soulmate in high school. After graduating high school and college, he joined the Air Force.

It’s funny how many Steves you meet in a lifetime. Steve his professor, Steve the nudist who staged protests on the quad, Steve his CO for three years, but the Steve he never expected to meet was Steve the Avenger.

Imagine his surprise when he found his soulmate...

++++++++++++

What are soulmates? Soulmates are two (or more) people who join to make a whole.  Sam Wilson knows he has one, but he’s unsure if his soulmate is going to want to meet him. Written across his tricep are the words So, you’re Steve’s right hand man? Sam isn’t quite sure, but he senses suspicion in these words.

 They popped up when he turned fifteen. The only Steve he knew was the school bully, and he really hoped he didn’t meet his soulmate in high school. After graduating high school and college, he joined the Air Force. The first and only person to whom he showed his soulmate words was Riley, his wingman in battle. He understood Sam asexuality more than anyone else Sam knew. When Sam lamented that even if he found his soulmate, they might not want him because he disliked sex, Riley told him that his soulmate would accept him; that’s what soulmates are for. If they didn’t, Riley surmised, they would only be hurting themselves and also not worth Sam’s time. Sam appreciates Riley’s aggressive love for him, but he still wonders how it would feel to have your soulmate reject you. He knows that plenty of people never find their soulmate, and some of them don’t even look for them, but he wants to find his.

It’s funny how many Steves you meet in a lifetime. Steve his professor, Steve the nudist who staged protests on the quad, Steve his CO for three years, but the Steve he never expected to meet was Steve the Avenger.

 Sam met Steve Rogers by chance when the super soldier trolled him while running around the reflection pool. He must have made a good impression because Cap came to visit him at the VA and then came to him for help to take down HYDRA. When Steve found out that the guy that he was fighting was his old World War II buddy, Sam didn’t even want to think about if it had been him and Riley. Naturally, he stepped up and helped in whatever way he could. Punching Nazis was actually a stress reliever.

 Now Steve is bringing him in to meet the team, which consists now of Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Thor, Bruce Banner, and Tony Stark. When Steve calls ahead, Tony tells him that Sam is always welcome at the Tower and there is a floor with his name on it. It’s been a while since Sam has had a vacation; thus, he agrees to stay for a week or two. He meets everyone but Thor, who is off-world, and Tony within the first couple of days. He even meets Colonel Rhodes, and he’ll admit, he freaked out a little. Rhodes has been his hero for a while now. Everyone is nice enough, and he quickly falls into a comfortable camaraderie with the Tower occupants.

 One morning Sam is taking care of his breakfast dishes when who should walk in but a well-dressed Tony Stark. “Good morning everyone!” He greets the kitchen.

 “Board meeting?” Clint asks.

Tony scoffs. “I can wear suits for other reasons than board meetings.”

 “But?” Romanoff smirks.

“Yeah, yeah, Pep’s making me go.” Tony concedes. He spins unexpectedly and sees Sam. “So, you’re Steve’s right-hand man?”

 Sam can feel the words on his arm tingle, and he stares dumbly at Tony Stark. Playboy, sex god, Tony Stark. He thinks. Oh shit. This isn’t going to end well for me, is it? “No, no, I can’t deal with this right now,” He says and practically runs out of the kitchen.

 +++++++

“No, no I can’t deal with this right now.” Wilson says, and Tony’s heart drops as he feels the words wrapped around his ankle tickle his skin.

 When the words had appeared sometime in his fifteenth year alive, he had been lying across the couch with his feet on Rhodey’s chest. Seventeen-year-old Rhodey claims he saw the words being scrawled around his ankle. Tony excitedly asked him what the words said, but he lost his enthusiasm for soulmates once Rhodey said the words “No, no I can’t deal with this right now” in a very regretful tone.

 When Rhodey saw Tony close off, he tries to reassure him. “Hey Tones, you don’t know what’s happening here. What if they have like fifty dogs that they have to take care of at that time? What if they say it first because you’re about to rant to them, and they have to leave in like five minutes? It doesn’t mean it’s bad. It could just be a time thing.”

 “Yea, sure whatever. It doesn’t matter. Soulmates are stupid anyways,” Tony mutters, but he clings to that hope that it’s a timing thing. Even when Howard finds out what his words are and laughs at him, telling him he’s so messed up and worthless that even his soulmate won’t want him. Even when he’s sitting in a cave, ashamed that he never cared enough about his company to prevent anyone from double-dealing. Even when he wakes up in the middle of the night, riddled with nightmares. Even when Pepper breaks up with him, telling him they just won’t work and that she found her soulmate. (He agrees with that one – she deserves someone much better than him).

 Tony has clung to that hope for so long that it takes a lot of will-power to hide his devastation. As Wilson runs out, he shrugs and says, “Okayyyy… not sure what that was about.” He heads straight to the elevator and puts on his sunglasses even though the only thing he really wants to do is break down and cry. Howard was right, once again. Even his soulmate doesn’t want him.

 He focuses on the numbers the whole drive to SI headquarters. He needs something to distract him. Tony also pays attention throughout the meeting, no matter how boring and tedious the topics. Pepper shoots him a few surprised looks but doesn’t question him. He stays after the meeting to chat with a few board members until he knows he just needs to talk with Pepper. She knows him the best other than Rhodey, and Tony just can’t be at the Tower right now.

 Walking into her office, he stops when he realizes she is eating lunch with her soulmate. They both look up as he enters, and he raises his hands. “Hey sorry. I’ll just… go.”

 “Tony, wait.” Pepper must have seen something in Tony’s body language because she calls after him.

 He turns back to hear Gen, Pepper’s soulmate, ask, “Seriously?”

 “Look, I’m sorry. I forgot what time it was. I don’t want to interrupt.”

 “I was just going to say that if you wanted to stick around HQ for another twenty minutes or so, I’ll be available.” Pepper gestures to him.

 “Right. Ok. I will, thanks.”

 Tony wanders down to the R&D department. Wandering through and talking to the workers, he is able to get his mind off of the whole “soulmate” thing. He has a genius plan. He’ll just work in his lab until the pain goes away!

 A half hour later, Tony finds his way back to Pepper’s office. Sitting across the desk from her, he says conversationally, “So, I met my soulmate today.”

 “And why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing?” Pepper steeples her fingers.

“You know my words, Pep!” Tony cries. “He said the words and booked it. How is that ever a good thing?”

 “Well, did he have somewhere to be?”

 “No, he was washing dishes and talking with the team. He wasn’t in any hurry until after he talked to me.”

 Reaching out and squeezing Tony’s hand, Pepper says, “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

 “I just want to hide away from the Tower for a while. Can I stay in here?”

 “Sure, but you have to do this paperwork.” She hands him a stack.

 Pepper seems surprised when Tony gladly takes it. “I’ll make sure I read every word before I sign.” He gives her a lopsided smile.

 Tony works in Pepper’s office until she is ready to leave at 7. “I’m sorry, Tony, but we have to go. I’m supposed to meet Gen soon. Good luck.” She gives him a hug.

 “Thanks Pep. Don’t make me cry,” Tony says wetly. “I shouldn’t cry. It’s stupid.”

 “You’re allowed to cry, Tony. It doesn’t make you weak; it makes you human.”

 Tony just shakes his head, wipes his eyes, puts on his shades, relaxes his body, and walks out with Pepper, seemingly unaffected. Walking her to her car, he helps her in and tells Happy. “Take her home Happy. See you later.”

 As soon as he gets home, Tony goes straight to his lab. “Blackout mode except for Rhodey and Pepper. Steve can enter on Avengers emergencies only.” He tells JARVIS.

 He opens up a saved project and begins working. It’s four am before he crashes on the couch to sleep until nightmares take that away from him. Tony wakes up at 7am, grabs some coffee, and keeps working. Rhodey comes down a little later with a plate of bacon and eggs.

 “Hey Tones. Why is JARVIS telling me that you’ve been hiding out down here all night?”

 “I was busy. I slept a little.” Tony comments absent-mindedly.

 Rhodey sits down where Tony can see him. “Is this about Wilson?”

 “Why…” Tony’s voice cracks. He clears his throat and starts again. “Why did you have to bring it up? Why can’t we just leave it and never deal with it?”

 “Because it will fester until it kills you. Either you can talk to me, or you can call up your therapist, I don’t care. But you need to talk about it, Tones.”

 “Why? Why do I need to reiterate the fact that I’m so worthless and messed up that not even my soulmate wants me?” Tony shouts. “The one person in the world who is supposed to love me unconditionally can’t even spend a few minutes with me without running away! Is that what you want me to say, Rhodey, is it?” His breathing is getting ragged, and hot tears fill his eyes.

 Rhodey wraps him up in a hug. “You’re not worthless. If he doesn’t love you, that’s his problem. To be honest, I was very shocked at that reaction. He seemed like a nice guy.”

 “You’re allowed to like him, too.” Tony tells him miserably. “You can have friends who don’t like me.”

 “If someone won’t give their soulmate the time of day, they aren’t that great in my book.” Rhodey pats Tony’s back as they are still embracing. “Listen, take the time you need in here, but don’t wear yourself out. There are people who love you, Tony, remember that. Also, eat your breakfast. I have training but I’ll be back.”

 Tony sits down to eat his breakfast and waves goodbye to Rhodey. He loves his Platypus – he’s the real deal. He can count on Rhodey to never leave. He starts up his work again in much better spirits.

 ++++++ Sam has not been doing good. He’s still reeling from the fact that Tony Stark is his soulmate. His. Soulmate. How… what… he can’t even form a coherent thought. He feels like an ass, running away like he did. Tony probably thinks he rejected him.

 Once I get my head wrapped around it, I’ll talk to him. Sam thinks. Geez, I really need to wrap my head around it.

 “Hey Sam, you ok?” Steve knocks on his door.

 Sam jumps off his bed and walks to the door. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just needed some time.”

 “Why? Is everything ok with you and Tony? What happened?”

 “We’re, ah, soulmates.” Sam puts his hands in his pockets.

Steve lights up like a gigawatt bulb. “That’s amazing!”

 “Yeah, except when I found out, I ran out of the kitchen. And I don’t think the words I said were great either. Shit I need to go talk to him. Hey, JARVIS, can you tell me where Tony is?” Sam looks up at the ceiling.

 “I am afraid I cannot tell you where he is, but I would like to say Sir is usually in one of four spots.” JARVIS replies.

 “He’s probably in his lab. Floor 53.” Steve tells him. “I’ll let you go.”

 Sam races to the elevator and asks JARVIS to take him to floor 53. He requests access to the lab, and JARVIS tells him he cannot let him in. “Can you pass a message to Tony?” JARVIS says he can. “Thank you, JARVIS. Hey, Tony, I’m sorry for running out of the kitchen yesterday. I definitely did not react the right way, and I am truly sorry for that. Do you think we could talk at some point? I have some personal stuff I’d like to share, and then you can decide if you want to be with me or not. I know it could be a deal breaker.” Sam waits for JARVIS’s reply. Instead the lab doors open, and Tony is standing at a worktable, waiting for him to come in.

 “What do you want to say?” He asks rather shortly.

 “So, I… I’m asexual. I won’t have sex with anyone because I don’t like it. I like holding hands and cuddling and even kissing, but I don’t like sex.” Sam sees Tony open his mouth to say something, and he holds up his index finger. “Just hear me out, ok? I know I handled it terribly but imagine being afraid your soulmate will reject you because you won’t have sex with them. And then I find that my soulmate is an ex-playboy who is like a sex god. It caught me by surprise and then I just panicked. I’m sorry.” When Tony looks at him pointedly to see if he has anything further to say, Sam gestures to him. “Your turn.”

 “So, my words are ‘no, no, I can’t deal with this right now.’” Tony wiggles his fingers as quotes. “My whole life I was afraid that my soulmate would take one look at me and just bail, which you kind of did. But now that we’ve both explained why we reacted the way we did, can we just start over? Hi, I’m Tony, I’m your soulmate. I don’t care that you’re asexual. I mainly had so much sex with people because that was the only intimacy I knew for a long time. Well, except for Rhodey. Sorry, I’m rambling.” He stops and takes a deep breath. “Your turn.”

 “Hi, Tony. I’m Sam, your soulmate. I don’t know you all that well, but I would like to. Is that acceptable to you?”

 Tony nods. “Definitely acceptable. Can I ask you one question? I don’t know how insensitive it will sound. Do you have, like, set boundaries for PDA? I just don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable.”

 “Well, it never hurts to ask if you can touch me. I do like to cuddle up on a couch or in bed. I love hugs. Kisses are acceptable unless you like to lick the inside of my throat. Holding hands is great. Simple touches are fine, too. As long as it’s not sexual, I’m probably ok with it. I will let you know if I’m uncomfortable.”

 “Sounds good. Would you like to get dinner tonight, soulmate?”

 Sam grins. “I would love to, soulmate.”

[winchesterprincessbride]

The Contest-Part 36

To celebrate Supernatural’s 15th season, the producers have decided to hold a contest to cast an unknown in a recurring role as Sam’s rumored love interest.  They are doing open casting calls all over the country.  Your best friend Nikki wants to go and she drags you along. Much to your surprise, you land the role and your life changes forever when you fall in love with one of the show’s leads, Jared Padalecki

A/N:  I am actually telling two stories here, Jared and Readers, and Sam and Gemini’s.  It flips back and forth, so try and keep up! : *Note: My vision for the show is different from what has actually happened, and some characters and plotlines may differ.

Part 1                   My Masterlist

Characters: Jared Padalecki, Reader, Best friend Nikki(OC) Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins,  Rory Montgomery (OC), PA Emily (OC) Cliff, Other Supernatural cast and crew

Gemini’s POV

My head popped up from the table, startling Sam and Dean, who were quietly eating their breakfast so as not to wake me. “Pancakes?” I said groggily as I sat up quickly. “Why do I smell pancakes?”

“Hey sleepyhead,” Sam said with a smile. “You must be beat, Gem. You fell asleep right at the table!”

Dean pushed a foil-wrapped plate in my direction. “Saved you some.”

I shook my head to clear it. “No guys, listen! My BFF Kelly Kline paid me another visit in my dreams. She told me where Jack is!” I pushed away from the table and stood up. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but I waved a hand at him.

“And before you say anything, I HAVE to go. Jack will only come to me. Don’t ask me why, but Kelly said it had to be me. So I am going! Get Cas, get Mary, but I am going and you can’t stop me.” I was starting to get really worked up.

Sam held out a placating hand. “If Kelly says it has to be you, then it has to be you. I don’t like it but I won’t stop you. I just want you and the baby to be safe.”

I jumped out of my seat and grabbed a piece of scrap paper and I pet from the junk drawer. I quickly scrawled down an address and handed it to Sam, “This is where Kelly says Jack is.”

Readers POV

When  I entered Jared’s trailer, he was face-timing the kids. The turned when I entered.  “Perfect timing, babe. They were just asking for you.”

I looked over Jared’s shoulder at the screen. “Hey, Sheppy! How’s it goin’ bud?”

Shep proceeded to laugh into a long story about some cool bug he had found before Tom apparently had enough of waiting and pushed him out of the way. “Lemme talk!” he demanded.

“Hi, Tom-Tom! I promise I will talk to everyone. How’s school?”

Tom’s face filled the small screen. “I can add now!” he said proudly

I grinned at him. Damn Jared’s kids were adorable.”Good for you! Keep up the good work. Where’s Odette?”

“She’s nappin”.  But Mamma wants to talk to you. Bye Daddy, bye, Y/N.” Without another word, Tom zoomed off, and the screen was blank.  The Gen appeared, looking like she had everything under control, as usual.

I don’t know how the woman did it. Yeah, she had help, but she had two very high energy boys, a girl that was into everything and still managed to find time to run a blog. “Hey Y/N! How is your mom? We missed you at the wedding,” Gen said with a smile.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. She’s much better, thanks for asking.” I replied

Jared cleared his throat. “Uh, Gen, we have something to tell you, well two things actually. I asked Y/N to marry me, and she’s pregnant.”

I leaned over his shoulder, “just to clarify, he asked me to marry him before I told him I was pregnant.” I said with a smirk.

“Oh my god! That’s wonderful news! I am so happy for you two! I can’t wait to tell David! When’s the wedding going to be?” she asked curiously.

Jared and I looked at each other. “We haven’t really talked about that yet.”

Gemini’s POV

Sam looked up from the paper I had handed him.”Jack’s in Biloxi, Missippi?”

“That’s what Kelly said,” I told him as he grabbed his laptop and entered the address into a site to get a satellite view. He turned the computer towards us.

Dean peered down at the screen. “It looks like a farm in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m sure it will be crawling with demons,” Cas commented as he stared at the screen.

“Lucifer wouldn’t have it any other way. He knows we are going to take another crack at him, he’s just biding his time.” Sam said as he glanced at me with worry in his eyes.

“Gabriel was the only thing that kept us from getting our asses handed to us last time we tried to take on Lucifer! What’s gonna be different this time?” Dean demanded.  “If anyone has an idea I’d like to hear it.”

“Rowena,” I whispered.  “She hates Lucifer. He destroyed her body. He’s the reason she transferred her soul into me. Maybe we can strike a deal with her. Give her something she wants in exchange for her helping us.”

“I don’t trust her,” Dean snapped. “She always finds a way to screw us.”

“Do you have a better idea?” I said impatiently.

Dean looked over at Sam and they had one of those silent conversations that drove me nuts. I rolled my eyes in annoyance, would it kill you two to talk out loud lie normal people once in a while?”

Sam smiled sheepishly at me. “Sorry. Dean thinks we should call Crowley. He hates Lucifer with a passion. We can probably get him to help us. But I know how you feel about him.”

“Desperate times, Sam,” I said with a sigh. “He’s not my favorite person, but whatever we have to do to get to Jack and make it out alive, then I say we do it.”

“Fine then. You do your dream talking thing and see if Rowena will bite, and I’ll reach out to Crowley.” Dean decided.

“"What makes you think Crawley will listen to you?” I said with a smirk.

“Crowley and Dean were very close at one time. I think Dean will be able to get him to agree.,” Cas told me, and I looked at Dean with surprise.

“You and Crowley were close? Why on earth would you and the king of hell be BFFs?”

“Back when Dean was a demon, they were very close,” Cas said matter-of-factly.

“You were a damn demon? Seriously? Is there anything you two haven’t done?” I muttered with a shake of my head.

Dean glared at Cas. Thanks a lot, bigmouth!”

Cas looked completely confused as to why Dean was annoyed. “But you WERE a demon,” he repeated as if this explained everything.

I smiled at Cas. “Just ignore him. He’s just mad because he didn’t want me to know. If he can use his past with Crowley to get him to help us, then great!”

“So what kind of deal can you make with Rowena?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. But she hates Lucifer enough that maybe she’ll help us just to see him suffer.,” I said hopefully.

Reader’s POV

Now that I was pregnant, the long days of filming were starting to take a toll on me.  When I was not needed for a scene, I could usually be found napping in Jared’s trailer. When I was late to shoot a scene because I fell asleep, the immature assholes I work with made sure to tease me about it.

“It’s about time, Sleeping Beauty. We have work to do.” Jensen said with a smirk.

“It can’t be easy carrying Gigantor junior in there. It must be sucking the life from you like a parasite,” Misha interjected.

“Guys…” Jared said warningly.

“For your information, children, you get to have all the fun, but we women are the ones who do the heavy lifting. So until you are ready to carry a baby, shut the fuck up!” you practically snarled.

Jensen and Misha held their hands up in mock surrender.  “We were just messing with ya, Y/N,” Jensen said consolingly.

“Well knock it off, or I’ll rat you out to both your wives.”

Misha’s eyes widened, “you wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me!” you said with a grin.

Gemini’s POV

I struggled that night to fall asleep. I didn’t like sharing my head with Rowena.  Every time she hijacked my body and I lost chunks of time, I resented her for it.  But eventually, exhaustion won out and I drifted off to sleep.

Just like before I was back in the dark, cave-like space, and I could barely make out Rowena’s figure in the shadows. “Hello, Rowena,” I whispered, not sure who else was listening.

“So, here for my help, are you?” she said with a cold smile.

“How do you.....I began, but she cut me off.

“I am always in the background listening, dearie. So if you want to count on my help to fight Lucifer and fetch his wee son, it’s going to cost you.”

“Cost me what?” I demanded impatiently. “Name your terms!”

“Normally I have healing spells in place so I can’t be killed, but after the last time, I took precautions. That is why I transferred my soul into you. Lucifer destroyed my body so thoroughly there was no way I could come back from it this time.”

“Tell me something I don’t know!” I snapped in annoyance.

“What’s left of me is sitting in an evidence box in a forensic lab in Chicago. An unsolved murder no one cares about.” I could tell Rowena was furious just by her tone of voice.

“What can I do?”

I need you to get one of my bones, there is a spell in the black grimoire that I can use to regenerate my body.  That is my price for helping you.”

@skybinx-blog  @percywinchester27 @a-sea-of-fandoms @dorky-and-i-know-it @waiting-4-the-doctor @ladylachesis @chelseypaigeake @tiffanycaruso @allinhishands @theoriginalvicki @elliewinchesterr @nothin-after-79 @oriona75 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @faegal04 @padackles2010 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou  @mannagryn1 @munlis   @phoenixiaxia @pinknerdpanda @vh1015   @ally-miller16  @hellokittenface  @traceyaudette @theartofbeingmilla  @jaleeniexweenie   @magpiegirl80   @silver-and-green  @atc74 @sams-little-toy @pretty-fortune @luciisthebest @tmccarney @jayankles @bookshido @supersecretspnfanfiction @notnaturalanahi @multifandomlove2002 @ivebeenwinchesterd @kreborn17 @dekahg @mariahoedt @mizzezm  @jazzzybee @scrumptiousarcadebear @winchestergirl-love @moonstar86 @magickal-angel @duckieburns @imaginesofdreams @gecko9596 @joyfulinfluencermoon @everlastingcas @gemini75eeyore @hartman1967 @the-supernatural-yogii @essie1876 @squirrellover1967 @multifandom-slytherin@beachy2014@dixonsvixon2017 @cloudyaries @smoothdogsgirl@m00sesquirre1 @idratherhaveyou-cursed-ornot@captainradicalpassion@keelzy2 @disneymarina@mrswhozeewhatsis@deniewinkle @scrumptiouswinnie @nikkilafox @sammy-salamander @internationalmusicteacher @ellen-reincarnated1967 @i-like-it-heavy-so-i-can-panic @daughterleftbehind @iamnotsaneatall @crispycurly @tjforston @shamelesslydean @goldenolaf25 @my-squirrel-and-moose @eleven-eleven-make-your-wish@sadnessabuse @laurenisnot @maddieburcham1  @canadianjelly@muliermalefici @brewsthespirit-blog @ilsawasanacrobat @nanie5@weasleywinchester @samisimportant @fatalcrossbow  @soab1967 @bagiab @spnbaby67 @plaid-lover-bay25 @feelmyroarrrr @nessy-bearxb @mandylove1000 @kay18115 @carryonmyswansong  @spn-ficfanatic @akhuna01 @mirandaaustin93 @kissofvenom922 @super-fan-of-all-things @superlightalternateuniverse88   @tokyoghoulyz  @midnightjazzmine @moonlitskinwalker  @ronnie248-blog @bohowitch @just-another-busyfangirl @jotink78 @kittenofdoomage  @frankiea1998 @akshi8278 @stylinson531 @valynsia @dr-dean@theoutlinez  @imweirdandobsessed @growningupgeek      @laurenisnot  @canadianjelly@muliermalefici @brewsthespirit-blog @ilsawasanacrobat @nanie5 @weasleywinchester @samisimportant-blog @fatalcrossbow  @violetsamalamb @letmusicguideu @grantsgorgeousgirl  @feelmyroarrrr @milkymilky-cocopuff @mikimausiii @the-greatest-temptation @superpanicromancesummer @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @emoryhemsworth @squirrel-moose-winchester@jennifromtheblock1013  @mogaruke @sweetmisseddreams2002@negan–is–god @spnwoman @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @maximumkillshot @sweetpeamoose @mrs-meghan-winchester @woodworthti666  @herbologystudent252 @sandlee44 @blackcherrywhiskey @themes87 @some-random-stranger-007@topthis808 @justballoonfishthings @masha-meow01 @mannls @michelleraethings @awkwardnesshabitat @mountaingirlforever @thelittlestwinchestersister

[laylainalaska]

I forgot to rec my Agent Carter Valentines and Chocolate Box here! I lucked out. MY GIFTS ARE AMAZING. Quickly slipping my recs in under the wire while Chocolate Box is still anonymous.

If This Room Was Burning by glorious_spoon (Agent Carter, 10K, Peggy/Jack/Daniel) Peggy, Daniel, and Jack are retrieving canisters containing another one of Howard's stolen experiments when they get trapped in a cave in, and one of the canisters is breached. Problem is, Howard was a little less than forthcoming about what exactly was in them... Absolutely wonderful pollen P/J/D get-together fic (minus any actual sex, it's more like h/c pollen) with hurt/comforty dubcon cuddling!! This COULD NOT POSSIBLY be more relevant to my interests. true north by anonymous (Agent Carter, 10K, Peggy/Jack/Daniel) Jack's a suspicious soul at heart. He doesn't trust anyone, least of all himself. Yes, I got TWO long P/D/J get-together stories, and both of them are delightful: well written and plotty and wonderfully characterized and idtastic. This one is incredibly hurt/comforty with Jack being tortured literally and emotionally, and ALSO about as relevant to my interests as it is possible to get. ♥ Look After You by anonymous (Punisher, 3500 wds, Leo & Frank gen) Leo knows only two people who got their wisdom teeth out before her, and Mom said no way did it hurt as much as everyone tells you it will, and Dad said no, it really didn’t, but, uh, he wasn’t chewing anything harder than mashed potatoes for almost three weeks afterward. This is SO GOOD, perfectly bittersweet and richly characterized and full of subtle, well-chosen details. Leo's narrative voice is fantastic. Post by anonymous (Banshee, 300 wds, Carrie Hopewell + ensemble) She has no reason to think he’ll receive any mail she sends to the PO Box scrawled across the back of the otherwise-blank postcard from Truth or Consequences, NM. No reason to expect that, even if he is living in the desert and checking his mail, he has any interest in pictures from the Banshee Elementary Penny Carnival. I GOT A BANSHEE FIC! This was so delightful and unexpected, and it's a glorious little gem of post-canon perfection, beautifully capturing the fabric of life in Banshee and Carrie's place in it. I loved every single one of these. I just want to cuddle them and enjoy them. Everyone else should read them too. ♥_____♥

[audreycritter]

Summer Reading Program

A short fluff for @cerusee . Thanks to @preciousthingsareprecious for brainstorming!  ~2700 Words Robin!Jason, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Gen/Family Bonding Tooth-rotting fluff Summer Reading Program

The Manor library was quiet except for the ticking of a clock and Bruce Wayne was plowing through a stack of papers that needed signatures. He'd been working on it all day and had moved from the study an hour ago just for a change of scenery. If he finished enough of the thick ream of contracts and disclosures and other legal documents he'd previewed ahead of time, he wouldn't have to do as much when things got crazy at night.

It had been a slow week for patrol and Bruce wasn't sure how much longer it would last.

With a bang, the door flung open and Jason Todd shuffled into the room. His eyes were just visible above the tower of books and fliers balanced in his arms and he made a beeline for the desk Bruce was sitting behind. He eased the pile onto the edge of the desk and then set a flier right in front of Bruce, on top of a paper waiting for a signature.

It said SUMMER READING PROGRAM in large purple letters and had the Gotham County Public Library System seal printed in one corner. The illustration was a cartoonish crowd of fictional characters with various identifying costumes or trinkets.

“I need your help,” Jason said bluntly.

Bruce flipped the trifold open. Inside, on the line for a patron name and phone number, Jason had already filled in Bruce’s name in his childish but improving cursive scrawl.

“What is this?” Bruce asked.

Jason gave him a look that told him just how stupid he thought that question was.

“It's for your book list,” Jason said, tapping the numbered lines. “You gotta read ten. I already picked out mine.”

“Why do I have a summer reading list.” Bruce read over the poorly chosen italic font. It wasn't the easiest to read.

“Because I'm asking you to help me,” Jason said. “If you turn it in, they put your name in a drawing. The grand prize is a Kindle and $25 in Amazon credit.”

“This has my name,” Bruce said, switching his gaze to the stack of books. It was a mix of middle school fantasy, Hardy Boys, and something that looked like a survival series about mountain climbing. “These are books for you.”

Jason gave an exasperated sigh and put both hands over his face and then dragged his fingers downward, pulling at the tender skin beneath his eyes. Bruce reached out and moved one hand away, worried for his exposed sclera, and Jason yanked away with an irritated huff.

“You have to pick your own books,” Jason said. “This is for my list. I need you to hurry. I just found out today and it ends in eleven days. Three chances are better than one.”

“Alfred is helping,” Bruce surmised.

“Yes,” Jason said. “All hands on deck.”

“For a kindle.”

“Do you need coffee? Are you asleep?” Jason waved his hand in front of Bruce’s face and this time Bruce leaned his head away. “I just said that. Pay attention, B. It's urgent.”

“Why do you need to win a kindle.” Bruce felt like he was missing some crucial piece of information and he scanned the flier again. Was there some kind of school credit involved? It didn't look like it.

Jason took a deep breath and launched into a rapid-fire bullet list that sounded rehearsed and bordered on pleading.

“I know I'm supposed to have limited screen time but is it really a screen if it's e-ink? It's not the one with games or movies and it has parental controls and it would help with school and I could borrow books from the library website and save money and it'll be easier to pack for trips and when I come spend the day at the office and heavy backpacks are a source of bad shoulder strain and it's not good for me and I can get books in Spanish to practice my—”

Bruce had said Jason’s name three times with no break and he finally gave up and pinched Jason’s lips together. Jason kept trying to talk, mumbling through his pressed lips.

“Jason.”

The boy stopped.

“I didn't ask why you needed one. Why do you need to win one? If you want one that badly, we can talk about buying one for you.”

Jason looked affronted and immediately after Bruce let go of his face, Jason’s fingers were pinching Bruce’s lips shut in return.

“Are you conspiring to interfere with an educational pursuit?” Jason asked just as seriously. Bruce looked into his frowning blue eyes and considered for a moment the enthusiasm with which Jason had entered the room, the way he'd dragged his feet about school the previous fall and then drastically changed his tune after just a few weeks.

He considered the stack of books and gently took Jason’s wrist and moved his hand away from Bruce’s lips. He thought Jason pinched much harder than he had, but he wasn't sure it was intentional.

“You think you can make it through all those?” Bruce asked, thinking about a balance between realistic goals and pushing one’s boundaries. He admired challenge but didn't want Jason to be overwhelmed; he was a steady reader and becoming a better one all the time, but was still slow for all his heart. They'd spent a lot of time the past year playing academic catch-up in almost every subject.

Jason scowled at him with a bright flash of anger and Bruce internally scolded himself for being an idiot.

“Why? You don't think I can?”

It sounded like defensive daring, but Bruce had spent enough time with Jason to know he wasn't Dick. Whatever bubbled to the surface was often a mask for some fear or anxiety and he'd become aware (sometimes with Alfred’s pointed help) that Jason deeply needed their simple belief in him.

“Of course you can,” Bruce said quickly, hoping it wasn't too quickly. “And I'll help. I think I can spare you from patrol for a night or two if you need it.”

“You'll do it, too?” Jason asked, brightening instantly. He was thumbing through the stack of books and looking over covers.

Bruce looked at the papers spread across the desk. He thought of the ones he'd left in his study. He glanced over at the shelves lining the walls of the room he often sat in but rarely used recently.

“Eleven days?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” Jason nodded, already with his nose in a book. It looked like something about animals with swords. “Ten books.”

“If I win, I'll let you borrow the kindle sometime,” Bruce teased, standing and pushing the papers to the side. Jason kicked at his shins when Bruce walked by, and missed, but didn't look up from the book.

Bruce plucked a book off the shelf and snagged Jason’s t-shirt collar with a finger and tugged. The kid was leaning, half-sitting, on the edge of the desk. “C’mon, Jay. Couch. Keep me company.”

The boy trailed after him without lifting his eyes and his lips moved when he was sounding out longer words. He sank into a corner of the couch with his feet stretched out and pressed against Bruce’s leg.

Neither of them moved except to turn pages until Alfred rapped his knuckles on the door frame to call them to dinner. Jason looked up and blinked owlishly, then his eyes widened even more and he was on his knees peering over Bruce’s shoulder in a second.

“What are you doing?” he demanded breathlessly. He flopped back on the couch and threw his arm over his face. “Bruce! That's like a million pages. How are you gonna finish ten books if you start with that one?”

Bruce held a finger to mark his place in The Count of Monte Cristo and held out a hand to cushion Jason’s head when he rolled off the couch toward the floor.

“I’ll finish, Jay,” he promised. Jason shoved his hand away.

“Can we read while we eat?” Jason asked. His face was buried in the plush rug but he fumbled around for his book, abandoned on the couch. “I’m at a good part.”

“I don't—” Bruce started.

“—see any issue with a temporary allowance?” Alfred prompted from the doorway. He was holding a slender volume of essays. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

Bruce thought it was pointless to argue this on the grounds that he had long been strongly discouraged from bringing work of any kind to the table in the dining room.

They ate while reading, all three of them. The only conversation was when Jason asked for a definition of a word and Bruce was halfway through an etymology of Latin roots when he saw Alfred’s raised eyebrow and Jason’s impatient lip-chewing.

“...but we can talk about that part later,” Bruce finished a bit lamely.

“I want to,” Jason said, and he sounded like he meant it. “Twelve days from now.”

The next nine days brought four patrols without Jason and a boy who was reading so constantly that one night, he missed both reading and patrol when Alfred forced him to bed early with a headache from eye strain. Jason sulked more than he slept and Alfred tried to make it up to him by reading a chapter from his current book aloud, and Bruce read another before going out for the night.

He was less than impressed with the child-protagonist’s climbing skills and problem solving abilities but kept his opinion to himself.

Despite Jason’s worry, Bruce himself made blazing progress through a whole slew of novels he'd wanted to revisit or read. He hadn't had such a good excuse to set aside work and other tasks and read for a long time and wished he'd done it sooner.

Alfred didn't seem to mind the excuse either, and Bruce frequently found him cooking or cleaning with a book in hand and unapologetic about the distraction.

Eight days in, Bruce took the whole day off of work and spent it shut up in the Manor library again with Jason and a steady stream of snacks from the kitchen. In the afternoon, Alfred joined them for a while.

Alfred was the first to finish his list, two days in advance. He clipped it to the fridge with a magnet and read another book anyway.

Bruce was two away and slightly regretting his choice of Le Morte d’Arthur when Jason kept checking his page number progress and humming worriedly at the calendar.

When he got back from patrol early, early that morning, Jason was sitting in the cave with his own final book in his hands and Bruce’s next to him.

“Read,” Jason ordered, pointing. “You have over a hundred pages left and tomorrow is the last day.”

“Jay,” Bruce said, worn out to the middle of his bones. It had not been an easy night.

“B,” Jason said, verging on pleading. “We’re almost there.”

With a sigh, Bruce pushed back the cowl and dropped into the computer chair and propped his booted feet on the desk. If he got any more comfortable he wasn't going to make it.

He wished Jason could just ask for things. Dick hadn't come from much money, and had been a frugal kid, but had few qualms asking for needs or mentioning wants. He didn't take money for granted, exactly, but also seemed more like a normal kid in his acceptance of provided material goods.

Jason swung wildly between actively resisting money being spent on him and gleefully allowing himself to be spoiled, only to collapse into guilt or self-punishing behaviors later in an attempt to retroactively earn whatever they'd given him. He'd balked at tickets to a Knights game, gone happily on the day of the event and come home with a jersey and stuffed full of junk food, and then disappeared for a day a week later.

They'd found him with a bucket of soapy water, worn out after washing every car in the garage.

But when Bruce tiredly looked up from the text to Jason, sitting on the computer desk with his face reacting to every development in his book, occasionally sounding out words under his breath, his eyes rimmed red and a happy, secure slackness in his posture, none of the comparisons or worry mattered. Bruce reached out and ruffled his hair. Jason didn't pull away but instead flipped back a page and said, “B, just listen to this part.”

Bruce didn't mind anymore.

Fifteen hours (and some sleep) later, Jason watched him like a hawk while he filled out the final line of the flier. After dinner, Bruce double-checked the spelling and legibility of Jason’s own list minutes after Jason triumphantly slapped the last book down on the dining room table.

They went to the public library together, all three of them, per the library’s policy of turning in one’s own reading list. Bruce had to fill out a form to replace an expired library card under Jason’s accusing glare.

The glare faded when Jason watched the librarian drop all three names into a decorated glass jar.

Jason talked non-stop, almost without breathing, the walk to the car and ride home. Bruce and Alfred listened to every recalled detail of the ten books Jason had read, and his opinions (with occasional profanity) on those details. It seemed like he'd been saving it all up in his rush to move on to the next book and it was all spilling out of him now.

He didn't stop through the trip up the stairs into the house or until nearly dinner, when he sighed happily and announced gravely that they had to start earlier the next summer.

The weekend passed without incident at the Manor or on patrol or otherwise. Jason roamed the house with nervous energy when he was awake and kept borrowing Bruce’s laptop to double-check the library prize drawing date.

Monday rolled around with a morning forecast of summer storms and Bruce got ready for work and offered to take Jason with him for the day. Jason usually liked going to hide in Bruce's office for the day but today, he refused from his spot by the kitchen phone.

“Should I keep him busy with something else?” Bruce asked Alfred in the foyer, slipping his arms into his raincoat while casting an eye back toward where they'd left Jason.

“I doubt it would be very effective,” Alfred said with an equally worried frown.

Around three in the afternoon, right around the time Bruce had been planning to head home early, his cell phone rang.

“I won!” Jason yelled in his ear as soon as he answered. “B! I never win anything but they drew my name! I won!”

“That's great, Jay!” Bruce said, thanking whatever gods were listening. It wasn't even the idea of not having to console a disappointed kid. He would have read twenty, thirty books in the same time frame to hear Jason so excited again.

“I gotta go, Al’s driving me over right now. The library closes at five. Bye!”

The line went dead and Bruce decided to call it a day. He drove himself home in the rain, under ominous flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder. He made it home before Alfred and Jason by not much more than twenty minutes and the rain had let up by the time they pulled into the drive.

He helped Jason set up the device in the kitchen while Alfred cooked and the wide grin didn't leave Jason’s face for hours.

They were on a stakeout later that week, hunched down in the Batmobile, when a faint glow lit the interior of the car and Batman looked sidelong. Robin was curled up in the seat reading.

“We’ve gotta couple hours,” Robin said. “You told me yourself. Is it too bright?”

Batman studied the alley and streetscape outside the windshield of the hidden car and almost said yes. Then he changed his mind, shifted his cape, and threw it over Robin’s head.

“No,” Batman said.

“Okay,” Robin said happily from under the cape. The glow didn’t make it through the dark fabric and the interior was pitch black again. “Thanks, B.”

[ao3feed-doctorwho]

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2ZvN2ju

by embarrassingresultofmyfreetime

Prompt: "Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge!" "Can I pick?"

The Master’s Tardis had traced the call seven minutes in advance to this exact time and location. He pushed open his Tardis door to find himself in front of some no name bar with graffiti scrawled on the side, situated in front of an empty ravine. He was on Earth, and there was probably a similarly ramshackled city around him, but he didn’t so much as spare it a glance.

The Master’s steps were determined, his jaw clenched, and his hands shaking despite his signature device in hand.

He had been on the other side of the universe, licking his wounds like any old villain would when disappointed by their least nemesis showdown. It all made his blood boil to have caved so soon. To come back and HELP the Doctor.

The Doctor still had O’s number and her call was scheduled to be made in exactly seven minutes. A hysterical, agonizing call that begged the Master to intervene. He wasn’t sure what was worse, hearing the Doctor in so much despair, or the disappointment that hearing her in such agony somehow didn’t lessen his own.

Words: 2410, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: The Master (Doctor Who), The Master (Dhawan), The Doctor (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor, Thirteenth Doctor's Fam (Doctor Who), Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair, Graham O'Brien, minor alien oc

Relationships: The Doctor & The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor & The Master (Dhawan)

Additional Tags: Prompt Fic, Angst, Happy Ending, cause I love my drama but im still soft like that, the Master has to save the Doctor's companions, Thoschei, Spydoc, thirster - Freeform, this fandom is terrible when it comes to ship names

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2ZvN2ju

[dopegardenersheep]

Hc GLaDOS raises her birds by making them watch YouTube videos of various birds flying and other common crow behaviours. Crows are smartasses so it doesn't take them long to figure that out. The Internet has everything but Portal was set in a post-apocalyptic universe so in the case where she can't find what she wants, she just has to improvise.

[audreycritter]

Are you still taking flash fic requests? Can I have one of Dev interacting with the Justice League? That was one of my favourite scenes in the trilogy! (btw, Dev is in my top favourite fancharacters, he's the BEST)

HI. It took me a long time to finally answer you, but I didn’t forget! I’m still doing all flash/prompt requests in order and this one was finally up. And I even managed to keep it from getting Tragic! Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH. :-D

Beam Me Up (AO3 Link)Rating: TGen/Friendship5500~ Words

The video conference feed is lighting up the screen of the batcomputer when Batman leans forward to slightly adjust the volume. A routine protocol meeting means he doesn’t have to deal with the hassle of teleportation or the headache of listening to other members of the team become distracted by tangents. They tend to stay more focused when they know he’s a mute button or disconnect command away from leaving instead of physically stuck in the room.

As far as angles go, it’s not the best, but three active cameras provide decent coverage. Wonder Woman is talking quietly and fiercely about recovery efforts in an area they fought in recently, and J’onn looks attentive. Flash and Green Lantern are both writing furiously and it’s not clear whether they are taking notes or doing something else. Superman is adding thoughts as they go but Batman is quiet. Unless they require input or redirection, his preference is to stay out of it.

So, when the topic transitions to the details of upcoming Watchtower shift schedules– something he has an actual interest in arranging– he opens his mouth to interject.

Unfortunately, it is the same moment that shockingly loud notes of Indian pop music surge from speakers across the Cave. The shocked expressions of the JLA make it abundantly clear that Batman, for all his speed, did not manage to hit the mute button in time.

“Dev!” Batman turns and shouts. He’d known Kiran Devabhaktuni was back in the medical bay working on something, but assumed Dev was aware there was a meeting going on.

But it is not Dev at the medbay that greets him when he twists in the chair. It is Dick Grayson and Dev on the workout mats, dancing.

“What?” Dick yells over the music, without stopping. They’re coordinating movements in what Bruce guesses is a Bollywood dance but he’s not certain.

“Turn it off,” Bruce orders in a yell. “I’m in a meeting!” He’s angled his body to make sure the JLA can’t see anything but the back of the cowl. Unfortunately, this also means his chair is turned to give them almost a perfect line of sight to the dancing. He sneaks a sidelong glance at the feed. The meeting is completely silent and every eye is directed at the screen. He stifles a sigh.

“Did you,” Dick pauses in his yell as he spins, “put it on,” another pause is punctuated by motion, “the whiteboard schedule?”

Dev is very pointedly avoiding anything approximating eye contact but he’s grinning madly.

“It’s my cave!” Bruce protests, feeling like a petulant child. “I shouldn’t have to!”

He is aware there is a whiteboard on the far wall, but aside from using it for specific mission work he largely ignores it. The minor details of sparring plans or vehicle upgrades tend to rarely get in his way or conflict with his schedule. He glances at it now and can just barely make out the large scrawl in blue marker on the date box: DANCE PARTY, KD & DG @ 7PM.

Bruce’s eyes narrow under the cowl.

He could stand up and find the power button for the stereo but there’s little certainty that this would prevent Dick from immediately restarting the music. Dev alone would possibly be easy to reason with, even if he is in the mood to be a bit of an ass, but combined with Dick is a dangerous pairing. The last thing Bruce wants is for this to turn into an actual argument with Dick in front of the JLA.

The only alternatives are abruptly leaving the meeting or unmuting the feed long enough to try to provide brief details over the music.

“Should we come join?” Clark asks as soon as he turns back to the computer and activates the audio again. “It looks like fun.”

If it was anyone else, they might smirk. But Clark is sincerity itself, even if Bruce knows or suspects that deep down the man is thoroughly amused.

“Yes!” Dick shouts from behind.

“No,” Bruce says at the same time, in a level tone. “I’m coming up there.”

“Bring Dev!” Barry demands before Bruce turns the entire monitor off. Bruce freezes.

“What.”

“We were talking,” Barry says, perhaps more loudly than he needs to. Bruce doesn’t know how noisy the music seems on their end. Barry pauses like he’s waiting for Bruce to fish for information but Bruce remains silent. “J’onn and I, I mean,” Barry continues. “What happens if there’s some kind of emergency and Dev doesn’t know his way around up here? Or he’s not used to teleportation?”

“Nobody gets used to teleportation,” Bruce says stiffly, but he is forced to acknowledge that they are decent points. He considers, without looking back at Dev and Dick dancing, and then decides.

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he says, and then he ends the feed and shuts the monitor down.

The music is still blaring when he stands.

“Dev,” he calls over the noise. “We’re going to the Tower.”

And it is a small consolation that he has the satisfaction of watching the other man suddenly stumble out of a dance step.

“What? Right now?”

Dick shoots Bruce a glare and sprints across the mats to turn the music off, plunging the cave into silence.

“You just have to have the last word, don’t you?” Dick accuses. He’s not even breathing hard.

Dev, on the other hand, is trying to catch his breath and he gives Dick a torn, conflicted look.

“I can stay, mate,” he says. “We’d scheduled it weeks ago.”

“No,” Dick says, shaking his head. Bruce is relieved that he sounds more wryly amused than bitter. “It’s fine. Go. We can do it again later.”

“Uh,” Dev says, looking to Bruce now. Bruce has still not taken off his cowl. “What do I need?”

“Nothing,” Bruce says, going to the vault for a teleportation remote. He spins the dial and tugs the heavy door open and hunts on the shelves of the outer room.

“Should I take Damian out tonight?” Dick asks from the mats. “How long are you going to be up there?”

“Take him out,” Bruce says, pushing the door closed again. “I’ll find you out there if I come back in time. Dev, stand right here.”

“The bloody fuck I will,” Dev says warily, hanging back a few steps and eyeing the small device. “You’ll thoroughly explain that first and give the success rate, in percentages.”

Bruce is a focused man and there’s a meeting waiting, but he can also appreciate caution and a need to understand. While he often uses tech without thinking much about it, he is not so desensitized to be occasionally aware of how profoundly strange it is.

“It’s alien,” Bruce says. “I’ve taken one apart before but I still can’t figure out quite how it works. The success rate is 99.2%.”

Dev raises an alarmed eyebrow.

“99.2 isn’t promising when it’s a human body, mate.”

“I’m giving you a hard time,” Bruce says, feeling like he’s somehow evened whatever score has resulted from the dancing interruption. “In our history of usage, in normal conditions we’ve never had one fail or demonstrate error. Are you coming?”

There’s a long pause while Dev stares at the device.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters. “Yes.”

“You might feel sick,” Bruce warns. “It sometimes has that effect.”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it now,” Dev pleads. “Just get it over with.”

Two seconds later, they’re on the Tower.

***

Kiran Devabhaktuni thought he was braced for whatever was about to happen, but it is clear almost immediately that he was not. One second, he was standing next to Batman in the Cave.

The exact same second, he is giving in to his body’s visceral need to bend forward and brace himself, palms against knees, in a room with curved gray walls.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, swallowing bile. It didn’t feel like moving or traveling. There was a hazy flash of dissonant color and then he is simply somewhere else, with his insides all wrong. He wonders distantly if the process disrupts cellular motion, even if by parts of micromillimeters.

“Give it a minute,” Batman orders from beside him. Dev is grateful the other man does not sound amused or dismissive.

When Dev manages to stand, Batman leads him out of the room they’ve landed in, saying, “I have a meeting to finish.”

There’s a note of reproach in Batman’s tone but Dev is too queasy and too overwhelmed to feel bad about it.

“I’ll take you to the medbay. It should be empty right now, and you can explore from there.”

“What?” Dev exclaims, lengthening his stride for two steps to catch up. “Alone, mate?”

“If you posed a threat,” Batman said, his jaw tight, “you wouldn’t be here. If a door is locked, leave it alone. If it isn’t locked, then you can go in.”

“Alright,” Dev says, slowing abruptly as they enter a hallway lined with windows. Outside the windows is space, and earth below them.

“Dev,” Batman says and Dev doesn’t budge. His gaze is pulled to the spacescape like a magnet and he can’t tear himself away.

“We’re in space,” Dev says hollowly. “Sodding space.”

“Yes,” Batman confirms.

Dev looks down– a bit stupidly, he realizes– at his Converse trainers on the sleek hallway floor.

“We’re not standing on earth, mate,” he says.

“No,” Batman agrees.

Dev shakes his head to clear it and glances again at the glittering black expanse, the orb of green and blue and white below. On top of his queasiness, he feels the familiar lurch of a rebellion against heights even though that’s not technically a proper reaction, physically speaking.

“Right, then,” he says to Batman. “Lead on.”

They walk further along a curved corridor and then Batman presses a button in a wall panel and doors slide open to reveal a medical unit that looks rather like an emergency department combined with an operating room.

“I’ll be back as soon as I finish the meeting,” Batman says, standing on the threshold as Dev steps in. “The elevator is two more doors down. All the rooms have intercoms.”

Dev nods, surveying the line of cabinets. The most marked difference between this and the emergency departments he’s accustomed to is the absence of cheery or plain-language posters about patient rights and pain medication refills.

The doors hiss again as they close and Dev is alone in the room. Wayne hadn’t specified but Dev feels it was rather implied that the visit isn’t entirely recreational. At the very least, he ought to explore the unit and he’s rather grateful he’s alone to do so.

It means nobody is around to see his eyes widen and hear the half-strangled gasp, cutting off a startled swear, that escapes him when he spots the thing that must be the body scanner Wayne R&D has been trying to replicate, without much success.

Before Dev can even question whether or not he should touch it, he’s searching it over for a power button. When he finds something that might be it, there’s a moment of hesitation but he barrels right past it and presses.

The thing comes to life with a faint yellow glow and a pleasant, tiny hum. It’s ridiculously maneuverable and light and Dev nearly forgets that he’s in space it’s such a distracting piece of tech.

He scans his own wrist with a faintly surreal sense of awe, feeling more like he’s stepped into one of Timothy’s sci-fi films. It seems more mentally manageable in the context of fiction. For a moment, he squints at a thin line across the bone before he realizes the machine is sensitive enough to show scar from an old fracture.

After several more minutes, he reluctantly pulls himself away and looks around the room. If part of the reason he’s there is to be prepared for future emergencies, he shouldn’t waste his time.

With a grin, Dev starts exploring.

***

Bruce is beyond done. He had known this would happen if he came up to the Watchtower and sometimes he hates being right.

Their discussion about schedules, which should have taken twenty minutes at the very most, has stretched into over an hour with interjections and side notes and questions and thoughts.

He gets the vague sense that they’re doing it intentionally, Hal and Barry, to see how far they can push him. He wishes Arthur was here so instead of sitting motionless while he swallowed a sigh, he could at least let the king’s patience wear thin enough to cut things short with a rant about the effectiveness of edicts.

Clark is too nice. He’s always been too nice. He honestly looks like he’s even enjoying everyone talking, and J’onn could be there or he could be carefully tracking conversation with his eyes while his mind is light years away. It’s hard to tell. Bruce wonders idly if he’s talking to Dev.

Usually, Diana might be useful in curtailing a waste of time, but as one of the primary complaints was hers, she’s clearly unwilling to drop things until it’s addressed to her satisfaction.

There’s a soft crackle as the intercom in the room clicks on. The table falls silent in an instant.

“Mate,” Dev’s voice carries through the speaker. “Um. I might be, well, I might be about to die.”

In the background, there’s the blaring warning that precedes an airlock door opening. Bruce is already sitting ramrod straight but he flicks a monitor panel on the table to life.

Dev’s face appears onscreen in the feed for the hangar. He looks slightly worried, but mostly angry.

And Bruce knows from experience that means probably terrified.

“What happened?” Bruce asks, flicking through the manual override commands.

At the same time, Barry exclaims, “You brought him? Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was trying to leave the bloody room after the doors shut on their own,” Dev says.

Bruce cancels the airlock door process and the alarms die off. He can see the faint slump of relief in Dev’s shoulders.

“You pushed the red button,” Bruce says. “Why would you push a red button.”

“Bloody hell, it’s not my fault they’ve not been fucking labeled!” Dev retorts. “Red means exit!”

There’s a long pause and then the other man puts a hand over his eyes.

“I see where I might have gone wrong, then,” he says.

“You aren’t technically incorrect,” Bruce replies, feeling mildly guilty for leaving Dev on his own for so long. His irritation turns almost immediately outward toward the League, who apparently can’t manage a conversation about shifts without it being an Event.

“Don’t sodding patronize me,” Dev says with a sigh.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!” Barry says again, already on his feet. “We’re done here, right?”

“Hiya, Dev!” Clark calls cheerfully. When Bruce glances up, there’s just the slightest telltale crease of concern in the alien’s brow.

Oh, great. This is going to turn into worried Checking Up On and Stern Talking, from Clark Kent.

In the video feed, Dev’s face goes ashy gray and his eyes widen.

“Did the entire League just hear all that, mate?” he asks flatly.

Bruce nods.

“Shite,” Dev says under his breath. He adds a half second later, in a much clearer tone, a rather resigned and forced, “Hullo, Superman.”

Bruce remotely opens the hangar doors to the hallway and says, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Before Dev steps out of frame, there’s a flicker of red and Barry is standing next to him, talking rapidly.

Again, Bruce swallows the desire to sigh.

***

Before Wayne reaches them, Dev’s already been joined by the Flash and Superman and led to something like a common area backed by a cafeteria or kitchen of some sort.

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell us he’d brought you,” Flash says for the fifth time. “Hal’s never going to let him live this down.”

It’s not particularly reassuring to Dev, who had been having a fairly good time exploring on his own until the Incident.

“How’ve you been?” Superman asks, and because he’s not wearing a mask like the Flash or Wayne, it’s a lot harder to not just think of him as Clark.

“Eh,” Dev says, fighting the creeping blush when it occurs to him that not only did they overhear the entire airlock fiasco, but also saw him dancing with Dick Grayson not two hours ago. “I’ve been well. You?”

“Great,” Clark says, with an easy smile. “But you still owe me a round of BS.”

“The card game?” the Flash asks, his tone rising in surprise.

“He means Bullshit, but he won’t say it,” Dev replies, feeling slightly more at ease. He doesn’t even care that Clark probably did it on purpose.

“I will!” Clark insists. “But my Ma was there the last time we played.”

“You wouldn’t just now,” Dev says, fighting a smirk.

Clark shrugs in resignation.

“Still. You owe me a round,” he says, turning to peer into the dim kitchen. “I wonder if we have cards up here. Does Hal have cards?”

“Why would Hal have cards?” Flash asks, frowning.

“Of course I have cards,” Green Lantern says in a scoffing tone, coming into the room with Wayne and J’onn. “Why?”

“We’re playing BS, apparently,” Flash answers.

“You came all the way to space to play Bullshit,” Wayne asks. He sounds unamused but Dev can hear the undercurrent and see the slight twitch in one corner of the man’s mouth.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, mate, but space is really boring. It’s full of literally nothing,” Dev answers. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind exploring the Tower a bit more but he figures he should wait and distract himself until it’s easier to keep his fingers from trembling.

“This is your first time up here, isn’t it?” Green Lantern asks. “Buddy, space is full of stuff.”

“Statistically, it’s more full of nothing,” Dev says stubbornly. Somehow arguing is making him feel less stupid.

“It’s full of planets,” Flash says.

“But if it’s a planet, does it count as space?” Dev asks. There are times he could kick himself for being an arse but he’s mostly just glad it’s keeping people from talking about airlocks. “I mean, not many stand about on earth talking about being in space.”

“Space is a vast emptiness,” J’onn says calmly, and Dev debates reaching out to the alien but feels like his mind would be too much wordless shrieking at the moment.

“I’m going to go find some cards,” Clark announces. “And Diana. She’d like this game.”

“I said I have some,” Green Lantern says, going with him. “Somewhere in my room.”

“I’m finding snacks,” Flash says. “We really need to start having food at those meetings.”

“Are you alright?” Wayne asks quietly when Flash disappears into the kitchen.

“You mean have I recovered from being a bloody wanker?” Dev asks a little bitterly. “Nearly. I’m sodding desperate for a cuppa, but I’ll live. Do we need to go?”

“Do you want to?” Wayne asks, with a slight frown.

“Not especially,” Dev shrugs. “But patrol.”

“Nightwing will take Robin out,” Wayne says. “I have some things I should look over with J’onn if I’m here.”

“Cheers, then,” Dev says.

“Are you abandoning him again?” Flash demands, sticking his head through a service window.

“He isn’t a child,” Wayne answers.

“I’m bloody fine,” Dev says. “And I’m not in the mood to lose a card game by default.”

Flash ducks back and then almost immediately reappears again.

“Wait. You’ve played games with Batman. Like actual games.”

“Our favorite is Candyland,” Dev says before he even thinks twice about what he’s saying. It’s the sort of thing he might say to make Timothy angry when talking to Jason. He figures he might as well run with it. “But he gets grumpy if we don’t have the matching sweets.”

The exposed part of Flash’s face pales.

“My favorite is black licorice,” Wayne says evenly from just behind Dev.

Flash’s mouth sets in a flat line.

“Of course it is,” he answers, sounding disgusted.

“Is this an American game?” J’onn asks.

“I’ll tell you about it,” Wayne says, heading out of the room.

It was a joke, Dev thinks before the doors close.

I was nearly certain this was the case. J’onn replies. Have you been enjoying the Tower? I am told it is an unusual experience.

It’s been bloody brilliant. The Medbay alone is a marvel. Not to mention space. I’m nearly sick thinking about it, it’s so massive.

There’s a flash of Wayne’s tense expression in Dev’s mind, like a flicker of remembering something suddenly.

I am glad you have found it satisfactory. Do you know why our interactions make Batman uncomfortable? Is there some protocol of etiquette I am breeching?

No, mate, he’s just mental.

That seems harsh but oddly fitting. Is this something I should refrain from telling him?

Don’t bother. I will. I’ve not in a bit and it’s overdue.

If you do not mind my observing it, you and Batman’s family convey respect or admiration in…confusing ways.

“Dev, are you hungry?” Dev is pulled out of his thoughts by Flash leaning through the window again. “I don’t know what you like.”

Enjoy your game, Kiran Devabhaktuni.

Tell Wayne I said I’m not miffed, if you would.

Very well.

“Not particularly,” Dev answers Flash. He’s mostly finally over his initial teleportation queasiness and hasn’t really registered hunger in its wake.

“Hm,” Flash says skeptically. He emerges from the kitchen with his arms full of a various assortment of bags and containers. “If you change your mind, we can probably find you something.”

“Are those J’onn’s Oreos?” Dev asks when Flash dumps it all on a table.

Flash looks just slightly guilty.

“Not all of them,” he says.

“We found cards,” Clark says, coming back into the room trailed by his cape and Green Lantern. Wonder Woman is only a few steps behind them. “I started to explain the game to Diana, but she said she’s played before.”

“It’s called Cheat,” she adds archly, taking a seat at the table. “If I agree to play, we will call it by the correct name.”

“Thank you,” Dev says, pulling out another chair while internally slowly building to a panic again. He’s about to sit and play cards with the Justice League. In space. “I’ve told them that and it would have spared Superman the humiliation, but some of Batman’s sons like the excuse to shout ‘bullshit’ at each other.”

“They need an excuse?” Wonder Woman asks with a crooked grin.

“Not much,” Clark says wryly, sitting down.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Dev says. “Pass the crisps.”

Flash tilts the open bag toward him and Dev takes a handful.

“So, who’s actually good at this game?” Green Lantern asks, looking around the table. Green, almost transparent and overlarge hands shuffle the deck of cards and then, ghostlike, deal them out. “I mean, Supes isn’t, of course, but, who else?”

“Why does everyone say that?” Clark protests with a wounded frown. “I’m the only one here who keeps a secret identity without a damn mask.”

“Damn,” Flash echoes. “Hal, you made him angry.”

“He’s not that bad,” Dev says defensively, feeling like he owes Clark that much at least.

“Thanks, Dev,” Clark mutters.

“I am excellent at this game,” Wonder Woman says. She pauses. “J’onn is not playing, is he?”

“He’s off with Bats,” Flash answers.

“Good,” she says. “Then I am excellent at this game.”

“I’m better with the mask,” Flash says with a slight shrug. “But I’m keeping it as my handicap.”

“It’s not golf, Barry,” Hal says. “You don’t get a handicap.”

“Are you taking yours off?” Flash counters, with a mouthful of crisps.

Dev drinks in every word and motion, trying to chew his own handful of crisps as unobtrusively as possible.

Instead of answering Flash, Green Lantern looks at Dev.

“What about you?”

“I’m not assessing myself in a room of supers,” Dev says, slightly alarmed by the prospect. “If I’m bloody awful, I’ll not have the added humiliation of saying otherwise first.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s almost as good as Batman,” Clark says, picking up his cards.

Dev glares at him, unable to tell if Clark is trying to be nice or trying to throw the others off or both.

By the third round, Clark’s nearly won and Wonder Woman is looking more and more annoyed.

“Bullshit,” Green Lantern says furiously to Clark when they go around again.

“I thought we were calling it Cheat,” Flash says, studying his cards.

“We are,” Green Lantern says. “I’m not saying it as part of the game. I’m just saying bullshit. I think he’s cheating somehow.”

“Why wouldn’t you say cheat, then?” Dev asks, taking an Oreo and making a mental note to apologize to J’onn later. His hands are no longer on the verge of trembling and he glances toward the curved window that looks out on space. His stomach doesn’t completely flip this time.

“I’m not stupid,” Green Lantern bites back. “You are cheating though, Kal, aren’t you?”

“It’s not my fault you underestimated me,” Clark answers with a pleased grin. “But I’ll sit out the next round if you feel like it’s fair.”

“Cheat,” Dev says, pulling his gaze away from space.

“Crap,” Clark mutters, turning over his card. He scoops up the handful. “How’d you know?”

“I asked J’onn,” Dev says, though he didn’t. Wonder Woman makes a noise of irritation and snaps her spread of cards shut. She studies Dev and then relaxes again.

“Hm,” is all she says.

“Do we have anything to drink?” Green Lantern asks.

“Maybe,” Flash says. “I’ll check.”

“No,” Clark says. “I will. I’m already behind again.”

The game pauses when he leaves the table and Dev takes the crisps Flash offers again. They’re vinegar flavored and fairly good.

“So, what have you seen?” Flash asks. “We’ll take a tour and fill the gaps after.”

“The medbay and the hangar,” Dev says. “That was as far as I got.”

“Well, we’re done then,” Green Lantern says, leaning over and looking at Flash’s cards. “We’ve got too much to go see. I can’t believe he just left you.”

“Are we not finishing the game?” Wonder Woman asks, frowning.

“I guess not,” Flash says, dropping his cards.

“We’ve got milk and canned tea,” Clark says from the kitchen.

“Milk? Who the hell drinks milk?” Green Lantern asks, twisting in his seat.

“I think it’s for the Oreos,” Flash says. “Does the tea have lemon in it?”

“I didn’t check,” Clark says from the dim room. “Did you say we were done with the game?”

“It’s probably got lemon,” Flash says, making a face. He stands and stretches. “We’re giving Dev an official tour.”

“I’ll come,” Clark says. “Hal, you’re on your own for drinks.”

“I’ve got coffee in my room,” Green Lantern says, gathering the cards. “I’ll make some later.”

“Sometime, we will finish a game,” Wonder Woman says, handing over her two cards. “But I, too, will come along for a tour. Someone should be there to provide accurate information.”

Dev grins at the self-satisfied look she has when Green Lantern and Flash immediately begin good-naturedly arguing with her and each other in reaction.

And even though he didn’t mind being on his own earlier, it’s brilliant to explore with bickering tour guides and less danger of pressing the wrong button. By the time they make a full circuit of the public rooms and a few of the private ones, Dev isn’t sure what’s more mind-blowing– the fact that he’s in space or that he’s chatting easily with the League.

They find Batman and J’onn in a room full of communication equipment, and neither of them seem surprised to see the group.

“We need to go soon,” Wayne says, glancing at them. “But I can show you anything they skipped.”

“We didn’t skip anything,” Clark says stubbornly. “We saw everything that matters.”

“The Kitchen?” Wayne asks.

By the way he says it, Dev surmises he does not mean the cafeteria room.

“Eh,” Flash hedges. “It’s not that exciting. More like work.”

“I’ll show you the Kitchen. Then we should go,” Wayne says, standing. “Contact me if we missed anything, J’onn.”

“Of course,” J’onn says.

“How did it go?” Wayne asks Dev when the others have said farewells and they’re in the corridor alone.

“Well, I think,” Dev answers. Now, at the end of it, he’s almost too wired to process much. “Thank you, by the way. For bringing me along.”

He does not say how much he had hoped he’d get to see the Tower someday; he doesn’t think he needs to.

“It’s a wise tactical decision,” Wayne says, and Dev understands there are also things Wayne isn’t saying but means nonetheless. There’s a faint smile beneath the cowl and his voice softens a little. “And you’re going to like the Kitchen. We use it for training, but it’s essentially a holodeck.”

They ride a lift down and walk more of a corridor and Dev is starting to feel genuinely hungry and actually desperate for a cup of tea. He’d not planned on doing so much walking about.

When they stop outside a door, Wayne hesitates.

“Don’t talk to J’onn while we’re inside,” he says.

“Sure, mate,” Dev agrees.

Wayne taps on a panel with gloved fingers and then the door slides open and they step into a massive grey room with a rounded ceiling.

There’s another computer set into the wall and Wayne presses another series of buttons and Dev nearly yelps when the entire room changes around them.

Instead of a grey room, he’s standing on a grassy knoll looking over a familiar river out across a familiar skyline.

It’s Gotham, but the entire city is quiet and there’s no movement. The buildings are in good repair and the southside docks have been rebuilt where they were sinking in; the pocket of sagging Section 8 apartment buildings just to the left of the Park Row divide are new and have rooftop community gardens Dev can make out even from where he stands. There’s sunlight over the distant bay.

And while taking it all in, he realizes that the city doesn’t feel dead and empty in the least. It looks and feels for all the world like it’s a tended home, just waiting for the return of life, like a summer cottage kept with cloth tarps on the furniture.

Dev glances sidelong at Wayne, who has pulled back his cowl for the first time Dev’s seen all night. The other man’s attention is fixed on the city.

“This room is for combat training,” he says.

“They don’t know about this one,” Dev guesses, bewildered still by how real it seems.

Wayne shakes his head.

“No.”

“You could do bloody anything, then,” Dev says, watching Wayne’s face now. “Why this?”

“This is what she could be like,” Wayne answers. He sounds certain, more determined than hopeful. “She could be a beautiful city again. A good place to live.”

Dev surveys Gotham again.

“It’s already getting better,” he ventures, not really sure if this is what Wayne wants or needs to hear. “It’s not as bad off as it was when I first arrived.”

“Good,” Wayne says. “It should be better. There are other programs we can see, but I wanted to show you this one. In case you needed to see it.”

Dev turns slowly on the grass. Behind where they stand, he can make out the Manor roof and some of the property. Further inland and north, the scraggly pines and slopes that make up Vernon State Park loom tall.

“It’s mental that we’ve come to space and still end up looking at home,” Dev says, swiveling back and meeting Wayne’s gaze.

“Space hates us,” Wayne says, a little grumpily, Dev thinks. “I’m sorry about the airlock. Ready?”

Dev nods.

***

When they materialize instantly in the Cave nearly an hour later, Bruce gives Dev a moment to collect himself. He does not admit how much his own stomach churns.

After he’s certain Dev is steady on his feet and not going to topple over, Bruce strides over to the computer and connects the comm.

“O. How is everyone?”

“Quiet night, B.”

“Tell Nightwing to bring Robin home by one. I’m not going out tonight.”

“Will do,” Oracle says cheerfully.

Bruce turns back to Dev and takes his cowl off.

“I’m sodding exhausted,” Dev says. “And I was peckish until that jump.”

“I think we owe you a cup of tea,” Bruce answers. “Let me get out of this suit.”

“A cuppa is all I’ve ever wanted.” Dev runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Bloody hell, but that was fun.”