#in a very birdy sort of mood lately. so. more birds coming is likely

[cadere-art]

A collection of diving birds.

A kingfisher, a pelican, an osprey, and a booby.

[pallasperilous]

Boneless Wings

 {AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares. 

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now. 

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it. 

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1.  Bird mites. Holy shit. 

 2.  Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

 3.  Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube. 

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose. 

4.  The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is. 

 5.  When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

 6.  Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

 7.  After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a  “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning. 

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can. 

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit. 

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8.  No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.” 

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry. 

 9.  Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

 10.  Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

 11.  You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice. 

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex. 

12a.  One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV. 

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

 12b.  The less said about angel molt, the better. 

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit. 

 13.  There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings. 

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

 14.  Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas. 

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

 15.  Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

  16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement. 

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

 16.  So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon. 

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously). 

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off. 

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17.  For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration. 

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening. 

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack. 

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel. 

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy. 

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato. 

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually. 

 18.  There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything. 

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

 19.  Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership. 

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns. 

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

 20.  Seriously though, the bird mites. 

Gross.

[gacuseni]

The last three hours had been not interesting. Batman and Robin were during their daily, or nightly patrol. There was nothing special about it, it had been pretty old fashioned. There had been two attempts of robbery, a minor gangster fight, and one attempt of kidnapping. It wasn't exactly too calm to put Batman or Robin nervous, but it was calm enough for a normal patrol in Gotham.

Batman had never liked the quiet though. And Robin had learnt from his father, he had a bad feeling about it, a feeling he couldn't quite name, but he had a feeling as if someone had could happen at any moment if they lowered their guard.

And they were right. As Robin was talking to the owner of the store they had just saved from a couple of armed guys, Batman heard a noice coming from the back alley, something had fell, at first he thought it could be a stray cat messing around, but he still got closer just to check.

"You better hurry! We don't have all day!"

Batman opened his eyes, he knew that voice, Harley had escaped a couple of months ago from Arkham, but she had gone quiet ever since. What was she doing there?

Robin looked at his father, he said something else to the owner of the shop and quietly followed him to the alley, he was about to ask, but his father make him a sign to keep quiet.

Aside from Harley, there were also some men on the alley. Each one of them was carrying a box and placing them inside a truck, Harley was looking at them impatiently. When the last one man arrived, he almost dropped the box as he placed it.

"Careful!!! We don't want to break it, don't we?" Harley said. And then she kicked the man in the chest making him fall.

The man tried to protect himself as he fell to the ground and covered himself with his arms.

For some reason Harley was apparently not in the mood to punch people, or she was really on a rush to arrive to wherever she was taking the boxes on the truck.

She looked around to check if someone else was following, she didn't notice the couple of bats that were looking at her from the other side of the alley.

Harley looked at the man on the floor. "That's what I thought, now get on the truck!!" The man, who was apparently also the driver followed her orders quickly and got to the driver's seat before the rest got inside and they departed to some place in Gotham.

Batman and Robin hid themselves as the truck exited the alley.

They looked at each other, as is for a fraction of second they had a mental conversation, they already knew what the other was going to do, both nodded before they started following the truck through Gotham's rooftops.

Batman informed to Oracle over the comms that they were following Harley, who was more likely working with the Joker, and that the rest of the bats on patrol should be alert in case they needed backup.

***

After following the truck through half of Gotham they arrived to the decks, more specifically to an abandoned warehouse. Damian was not surprised, the Joker and the rest of criminals should really get another creepy location to do their evil plans. But again, this was Gotham, there were more warehouses than McDonald's in the city.

There was a small window on the ceiling that Batman and Robin used to see what was going on. Joker was already in the warehouse, waiting for the truck.

He smiled with that creepy smile he always had on his face as Harley got out of the truck.

There was too much noice inside and outside to hear clearly what was going on, but Robin knew the couple was talking about the boxes, while they were watching from the hidden window in the corner of the roof.

Robin was ready to jump in the moment it was needed, his father on the other side was observing, analyzing the boxes that the men were opening.

"Hm" he made that noice he used so much as both Batman and Bruce. "They look like materials for his gas. There is also some new stuff, he might be changing the formula." He said through the comms. He then looked at his son, who was not really paying attention to him, but instead was about to jump through the window. "Robin, no. It can be dangerous, you will have to wait here until I say so."

Robin looked at his father, who was back at looking at the boxes, he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, just waiting for some orders. The night had been boring for him, and now that it started to get interesting, he was ordered to wait in there.

Batman was about to go inside when Joker and Harley stopped talking after one of the men had approached the Joker and said something to his ear. Joker nodded and then looked at Harley.

"Bring her here." The Joker ordered to Harley.

Harley nodded with a smile, she left and returned a couple of minutes later with a woman around her mid or late thirties, who was cried on the floor after Harley pushed her.

"No! Please! No! Let me go home!! Please! I have a family!" She was shaking her head as she trembled, tears falling down her face. Robin felt anger through his body as the woman continued pleading for her life and safety. Talking about her family and her home. She was just an innocent woman.

Batman noticed how tense his partner was, he was also not happy about this, but he covered it better than his son.

The Joker's smile was getting bigger and bigger as the woman cried and pleaded. At some point Robin was sure it couldn't get any bigger.

As Harley approached the woman ready to beat her with her bat, Robin decided it was finally time to do something. Orders be damned, so he started moving toward the window.

Batman glared at him, but Robin ignored his father, while he kept approaching to the window. Hiding in the shadows without anyone noticing him.

And finally, he jumped to fight the men.

"Robin, no!" He could hear his father yelling at him, but he ignored him, again. He could hear the exasperated sigh his father gave, he didn't looked back, but he could perfectly visualize his father's frown under the cowl, pinching his nose.

He landed along the shattered glass, making a noisy entrance that directed the attention to him and not the woman. Good, he thought.

"Oh look the little bird is here." Harley spoke, she glared at the men behind her. "What are you waiting for? Go get him!"

Robin took the first two men down, leaving them unconscious in the floor. They were sloppy and useless, he wasn't surprised.

Robin smirked at Harley as another couple of men attacked him and he took them down easily.

"Ugh!! Why can't nobody do something right?!" She screamed, then she looked at other four men "What are you people looking at?! Do something! Or are you waiting for a lollipop?! You are absolutely useless!"

The four men quickly ran towards Robin.

He dodged the first two men easily, but as he was about to punish one of the men, he looked at his left where he saw the Joker about to hit the woman with a crowbar, and Robin got distracted.

He had let his guard down, and never noticed that one of the men had a knife. A knife he used to stab him on his right leg, as the other man hit him on the face.

He was about to get another hit when a dark shadow landed in front of him, taking down the man who had stabbed him.

"Robin!" Batman yelled to his son, as he continued to take down the men. Robin had to admit they were at least brave, or very stupid, as they continued to get up and keep fighting them. "What the hell we're you thinking?! I told you to wait!"

Robin punched one of the men on his stomach as he looked at the woman being hit by the Joker, who had started laughing. Ugh, he really hated that laugh, it always got on his nerves.

"Less talking more acting, you can scold me later father."

Robin quickly ran towards the Joker, who was about to hit the woman once again, she was half reacting by now, Robin wasn't sure if it was because of her injuries or some sort of shock.

He took some speed before he make a flip and he kicked the creepy clown on the face, as he yelled to the woman to move, giving her time to react and get away from the clown. Batman helped her get out of the warehouse quickly.

Robin was supposed to follow Batman and the woman to the outside, but when he was halfway there, Harley grabbed his cape and tossed him to the men who restrained his arms.

He looked at the door, Batman was probably outside by now and would soon realize Robin hadn't got out yet.

Robin tried to kick one of the men grabbing him, but he kicked him first on his stab wound, making him hiss in pain.

Joker looked at him, and finally proved Robin wrong.

His smile could get bigger. And let me tell you, it was not a pleasant image. Damian wished he could forget it.

"Oh look, the little birdie wants to take someone's place."

"Shut the fuck up" Robin was able to kick the Joker on the stomach, but when he was about to punish him again, was hit on his use and fell to the ground.

He turned around to look what was going on, Harley had a grin on her face as she got in position to hit him again. With the crowbar Joker had been using.

"I think the little kid wants more! So fun he could join us in our play date! Don't you think pudding?" She exclaimed as she hit Robin repeatedly, her voice getting angrier as her hits were getting harder.

Robin grunted in pain as he tried to stand up, just as the Joker kicked him to the floor. He used the moment Joker started laughing to kick him on his legs, taking his to the ground and standing up.

He didn't noticed when Harley had got behind his back and was about to hit him with the crowbar until he heard a noise similar to a punch. When he turned back he saw his father was back, and was fighting with Harley, taking her away from him and starting their own fight.

And here is the thing. Robin might be a trained soldier. Damian may have trained his entire life ever since he was born and was able walk and grab a sword.

But the Joker was a hard opponent in a one vs one fight, even to Batman. So it was even harder for Robin, specially with him being injured.

That didn't stopped him, Robin continued to fight the Joker, but he was getting tired, his leg was hurting a lot, the stab wound felt like fire on his leg, he was sure a part of the knife was still in there, and he also probably had a broken nose because it wouldn't stop bleeding, and a small concussion aside with some broken ribs.

The point is, odds weren't good for him, is his father didn't take Harley down soon and helped him, he wasn't sure how long he could keep going.

And the Joker didn't looked like he was getting tired, or as if he was going to get tired at some point soon, or at least soon enough for Robin to get away from him.

Robin tried to jump to avoid a low hit, but when he did his leg starting hurting a lot, causing him to loose balance.

The Joker used this to grab his arm and twisted it in an unnatural way, making Robin to hear the crack of his bone, breaking in two or maybe more parts.

Robin cried in pain. This made the Joker laugh, he was finally getting what he wanted.

The joker grabbed the crowbar that had fell a few inches away from them, and hit Robin on his head. Hard.

He may had hit him more than once, that was very possible. But after that first hit everything had become blurry for Robin, he couldn't focus well and he couldn't keep his balance. He shook his head as he tried to focus and keep fighting. Every time it was getting harder, but he needed to, he needed to-

"ROBIN!"

Robin looked around, someone had called him right? But they had said Robin...Damian knew that a Robin was a bird, his name was Damian wasn't it? Why would someone call him as a bird?

He lost his train of thought, tried to focus on what he was doing, he was on the floor? He didn't really knew, but everything was too dizzy, and he was getting too tired to think, his head hurt, his leg hurt, his arm hurt, everything pretty much hurt and he couldn't remember why.

There was this laughing he could hear distantly, Damian didn't liked it, he wanted it to stop, but he could also hear another voice, and he knew that voice, that voice knew him too right?

While Robin had been fighting against the Joker, Batman had tried his best to get rid of Harley, and get as fast as possible to his son, he knew he was tough, but Jason had also been though and wasn't able to get away from the Joker.

He had already called Oracle and contacted the rest, he just hoped they could arrive soon.

Batman looked at his left, Robin was struggling, he knew it. Joker was hitting him and laughing, and Batman just saw red.

He was finally able to finish the fight, punching Harley so hard she fell unconscious to the floor.

As he turned again to his left, Robin was barely conscious, laying on the ground. Joker had seen how he knocked out Harley, and probably left him there.

"Robin!" He called his son, trying to make him stay awake. "Hang on, hang on." He said as he grabbed his son.

He looked to the place where he had left Harley, she was not there anymore. Batman didn't cared about her, Robin was hurt, and badly.

"Ba bye Batsy! See ya!!" The Joker said through a speaker that had been left in the warehouse. But Bruce was too busy and too worried to get away with Damian, and then get him help as fast as possible.

"Batman to Agent A, I need the batmobile ASAP, Robin injured, what's the ETA?"

Alfred had said something about less than ten minutes and asked Robin's state. Batman was about to answer when Damian talked.

"F-Father?"

"Yes Damian?"

"I-I'm tired..."

"I know you are, but can you please, just stay awake? Can you do that? Just until we get to the med bay and Agent A checks on you, you will rest then." Bruce told his son.

Damian lightly nodded his head, but still his eyes were closing and were not focusing anymore, that was not a good sign, and Damian shouldn't sleep with a concussion before he gets checked.

Bruce had to take him out of there now. Damian was loosing blood, and he was loosing him.

He looked around for the exit, Joker had blocked the main entrance and Bruce wasn't sure he couldn't get them both out through the window with his hook.

Then he heard it.

A bomb.

There was a fucking bomb in the warehouse.

Bruce quickly searched for it with the look.

'Oh shit...please no' He thought.

There were just a few seconds left.

He knew he couldn't get Damian away that fast in his condition. But he needed to try, he took out his grappling hook and started taking them both out, they could make it out, they still had time to at least get to the roof.

Bruce then made the mistake to look back at the bomb.

Three seconds left.

There was no way they could make it out.

Two seconds left.

Bruce hugged Damian in a way to protect his son from the explosion and the impact. Damian curled himself and grabbed his cowl.

One second left.

He was just hopping that he could take most of the impact, as he wasn't sure if Damian would survive it. He closed his eyes and grabbed his son as hard as he could.

BOOOOM

They both were sent away flying, Bruce couldn't protect Damian from more than some rocks and things that were sent flying away.

At some point he momentarily lost consciousness on the air, everything was going in slow motion, and when he gained again he realized his grip on Damian wasn't as hard as he thought, and his son's body slipped away through his fingers.

Bruce remembers how they were both smashed into a wall. Damian hit the wall with his head, loosing completely conscience.

And then Bruce got lost in the darkness as well.

Continue reading in Ao3

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A Game of Cat and Mouse Pt1

Wow something that’s actually kind of angsty...where did this come from lol. It’s kind of written in a flashback style as the events are being retold by Maggie, with Bruce probably filling in some of the blanks at some point. Something I’m working on currently, feedback would be much apriciated!!! :)

The room was bland, aside from a couple of ugly green chairs and a plant or two. An uncomfortable silence clinging to the air. Green eyes flitted around the room, as she fiddled with her fingers nervously picking at the corners of her nails.

She wasn’t really in the mood for any of this, but Batman wanted to talk about her last mission with Robin while the events were still fresh in her mind.

A dark figure moved across her vision taking the seat across from her, snapping her out of her daze. She mentally kicked herself as she hadn’t even noticed him come in.

The sat in there letting the silence hang in the air between them, before the dark night spoke,” I understand this is hard but it’s something we need to talk about, Maggie.” He told her.

She flinched a little, not used to hearing her civilian name pass his lips,” I know.” Maggie said feeling her stomach roll with nausea,” Let do this.”

“Right, so tell me when you noticed that the mission had started going wrong?” He questioned the younger girl

She snorted, he always seemed to want to get right into things, but she supposed it was as good a place to start as any.” I knew something was wrong the moment we got inside.” Maggie told him, watch the other man’s eyebrow raise but when he didn’t say anything she just continued.

“The whole thing was going a little too smooth.” She answered,” Robin and I are smart, but we should have at least had a little trouble, but it felt like we just waltz in…”

~

It was an easy mission, just in and out something that the two young vigilantes should have been able to handle. Nothing that required a whole team just a couple of expert hackers and their brains.

Robin hacked the system in record time getting them inside, while Nightingale watched his back.

She could feel the muscles in her stomach tighten, but she decided to ignore it for now. It was too early in the mission to decide whether they needed to pull out.

“The area seems clear I’m not getting any bio readings on this level.” She told Robin as they entered the building.

“Remember you still need to proceed with caution.” A gruff voice told them over there intercom system.

“Yeah we know this isn’t our first Rodeo, B.” Robin light hearted voice came over the air ways, calming the nerves in her stomach a little.

Everything would go fine, they could handle this.

” I’ll cover the lower area you, cover this one and we’ll meet back up with what we find.” Robin told her, flashing him her signature grin.

“So, the two of you decided to split up?”

~

She blinked coming out of her thoughts, when he asked this question.

“Yeah we decided to split up.” She told him running her fingers through her thick red hair,” It was stupid, my gut was already telling me something was wrong, but Robin was still in my range of vison and…I thought things would be okay…”

Maggie put her face in her hands,” But things weren’t okay, and he got hurt and…it’s all my fault.” She said, her voice shaking.

“It couldn’t be avoided and wasn’t the one that was hurt.” Batman told her resting a calloused hand on her shoulder,” We don’t have to continue if you’re not ready.”  

Her fingers subconsciously ghosted over the bruises on her neck,” I’m fine, let’s continue.” Maggie gave a clipped answer,” So we split up figuring we could cover more ground that way.”

~

“Are you sure something supposed to be going down here Batman because so far me and Robin got nothing.” Bruce listened starting to feel suspicious himself.

“We’ll give it another few minutes and then you and Robin will pull out.” He told the two of them, not wanting to put them into any unnecessary danger.

“Alright Bat’s but so far everything seems dead quiet…” The girl trailed of as her ears caught a faint noise.

“Nightingale is something wrong.” Batman asked, aware that something caught her attention.

“Nothing I just thought I heard…” The line went silent again before shouting,” Robin look out!!!” Before he heard a loud thump and a little gasp.

The line went dead, not even the crackle of static coming through.

“Nightingale…” He waited for a reply but there was nothing but dead silence.

~

“Do you remember what happened after you woke up?” Batman asked, his hands folded, elbows neatly resting on his knees as he listened.

She hesitated,“…It’s still a bit hazy but I think I can manage.”

~

She woke in total darkness, with an intense throbbing pain behind her eyes. Rubbing the back of her head she could already feel a lump forming.

Crawling she found her way to the nearest wall she pushed herself up onto shaky legs, following the smooth, cold wall looking for any sign of a light switch, or a door of some sort.

It wasn’t necessary as moments later the lights flickered on, making her squint against the harsh florescent lights. The room was square with bare white walls and no sign of a door.

The only thing that stuck out was the large monitor that looked built into the wall.

The situation was looking bad and she tried contacting the others, “Batman do you read me?” Receiving nothing but dead air,” Robin?”

Dread settled heavily in her stomach when neither replied.

The large monitor in front of her flickered to life, the Joker’s brightly colored clown face plastered across the on the screen,” Ahh so on of the little birdie’s is awake.” He sniggered, clearly amused with the situation,” Good I was just about to send someone in there to wake you.”

“Where’s Robin?” She questioned, worried about her friend not wanting to imagine what the Joker had done to him.

“Always straight to the point, are we?” He cackled, “Now where’s the fun in that.” He waved her off casually,” What do you say you and I play a little game?” Joker asked.

Weighing her options, she didn’t see any other choice other than to co-operate, the Joker was holding all the cards.

“That’s a good girl, co-operating.” Joker grinned widely,” Let’s play a game of Hide and Seek, you and your little boyfriend, will hide and I’ll come find you, simple enough.”

“If you batman finds you first you win.” He told them, casually brushing a bit of dust off of his shoulder,” If I find you…well you know what’ll happen” Joker sneered.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Joker crowed,” Now don’t look at me like that I’ll even give you head start.” He grinned,” But you might want to hurry your little Bird friend isn’t looking too good now.”

The screen went black. Her heart sank into her stomach, she had to find Robin.

A door in the wall slid open and Nightingale made her way into a large hallway, leading into a maze.

Her brain was starting panic, she had no idea how she was going to find Robin in this mess of hallways

“Alright deep breaths Gale, focus…” She tried to collect her thoughts,” This is Joker you’ve dealt with Joker before…what do you know about him?”

Thinking about it she was able to calm her mind some,” He want’s Batman to suffer…so he wouldn’t let Robin die yet…that’s too easy for Joker…” The weight on her heart lightened,” So maybe he’s somewhere nearby.”

She couldn’t waste anymore time, who knows how long of a head start the Joker was actually giving them.

Turning a corner, she sighed exasperated,” You’ve got to be kidding me.” She said, finding an opening with a large Joker smiled painted over the entryway,” The Joker sure has a flare for the draumatics…”

Running inside she found Robin laying there slack and lifeless.

Her heart froze in her chest,’ Oh god I’m too late...’ She thought, going to his side, tears springing to her eyes.

But soon she noticed his chest rising and falling taking in shaky breaths of air,” Oh thank god.” She breathed out.

Taking a moment to collect herself, Nightingale scanned Robin’s body for injuries.

There was a small shallow gash just above his lefts brow, crusted over with dried blood. His lip was split, which made her smile a little knowing he’d fought back.

Shifting his arms, she examined his torso, grimacing when she noticed blood soaking through the side of his thin suit.  Not sure if she was anywhere near ready to tackle that situation just yet.

“Alright get out of immediate danger first then deal with possibly life-threatening injuries.” Grabbing his arm, she tried to drag him out of the room, but it proved to be more difficult then she first thought.

They didn’t get very far before she heard a low groan,” Robin!” She exclaimed, to the boy’s side. Watching his hazy blue eyes flicker open.

“Nightingale…what happened?” He slurred, wincing in pain his whole-body aching.

“It was a trap the Joker captured us…I’ll explain more later we have to get somewhere safe.” She told him, helping up now that he was conscious.

She stumbled a bit letting him lean heavily on her, as they slowly made their way.

They didn’t get far before they heard voice,” I think they came this way.”

Looks like their head start had ended,” You should go on without me, I’m just slowing you down.” Robin croaked.

“I’m not leaving you behind we just…have to find somewhere….” She leaned on the wall with him, his weight on her starting to take its toll.

A panel on the wall came loose making her stumble a little. Cocking her head a little she rest Robin against the wall tugging on the panel pulling it loose.

 She found a small room, no bigger than a storage closet, she wasn’t sure if it would fit both of them but the voices were getting closer so it would have to do.

Dragging Robin inside she carefully replaced the panel, sitting silently.  

Holding her breath, she listened quietly, “I could have sworn they came this way.” One of the voices said,” No matter, if we don’t find them the joker will.” Another answered.

She still waited a few minutes listen to their footsteps dim until she could no longer hear them before she releases her breath,” They’re gone.” She whispered, scanning the room with the tech in her suit for bugs or listening devices.

“The rooms clean, it looks like we can stay here for a while.” She looked over at him wrinkling her nose,” Let’s get you patched up.” She said

It look like a lot of the things were removed from her utility belt but she was relieve to see that the first aid kit was still intact.  

Peeling back the skin-tight elastic of his suit, she cringed finally seeing the wound on his side. It was deeper than the one on his brow and still slowly oozing blood but it didn’t look life threatening.

Robin hissed as she began to stitch the wound up,” Sorry I’m no Batman when it comes to these things.”

She finished stitching up the wound wrapping a bandage around his waist to cover the stitches,” It’s not perfect but it’ll have to do for now, Hopefully Batman will find us soon.”

She moved so that she was sitting against the wall, cradling his head in her lap, carding her fingers through his dark hair.

Not liking the heat already coming off him,’ Please hurry.” She thought.