#it comes across like the only reason she's doing this is because Barbara bruised her delicate little ego

[soleminisanction]

Have I ranted before about how the Devil's Square makes no fucking sense?

So I'm trying to write the next part of Batgirl, Repentant, and more fool me, that means I need to go back and re-read parts of Batgirl (2009) for research. And like what always happens when I do that, I noticed yet another detail that stops working when you stop to think about it for even a moment.

Because see, on the second page of the third issue, we get these two moments in rapid succession.

Scarecrow's hideout is in "Gotham's Western Quadrant, the Devil's Square," established in the previous issue as a bad neighborhood, quote, "Otherwise known as 'Thunderdome.'" This place is treated like it's a Big Stinkin' Deal for the first two arcs (maybe the first year? I don't remember clearly and I don't want to go any further down this rabbit hole than I have) of this series, but nothing about it makes sense.

We are never ever given a clear reason why this neighborhood is supposedly such a uniquely terrible place, but it's supposedly so bad that it's worth making a whole terrible philosophy lecture out of why criminals would choose to stay there.

But the closest thing we get is that, at one point, Professor Exposition describes it as "a demilitarized zone."

Which does not make any goddamn sense because that would require Gotham City as a whole to be the location of an ongoing military conflict. Y'know, like the one between the Koreas.

I can only assume, given Brian Miller et al's tendency to do zero research on even the most basic of plot elements (see also: labeling all of Stephanie's obviously freshman-level college classes with 400-level designations intended for seniors or grad students) that what he actually meant here was autonomous zone. Like the CHAZ, as imagined by your Republican uncle. The implication being that this is an area of town that's been completely abandoned by police and emergency services, reducing it to a lawless wasteland where criminals roam free. (A no man's land, you might say. 🙄)

EXCEPT. APPARENTLY. LITERALLY ONE ISSUE LATER. We get the panels I started this post off with, where Steph arrives at Scarecrow's hide-out in the Devil's Square and we get EXPLICIT confirmation that the police will be there in five minutes.

That's all to say nothing of the fact that it being "Gotham's Western Quadrant" that's been cut off makes zero sense on its face. Besides implying that's an entire QUARTER of the city that's just been completely abandoned, Steph at one point describes it as being "on the west bank of the Gotham River."

There is no west bank of the Gotham River. Gotham is on a series of islands off the coast of New Jersey. The west bank of the Gotham River is the MAINLAND where Bristol and the suburbs are.

Gotham's geography is super fluid and can change from book to book, but it being on an island connected only by a series of bridges was a big deal in this era and the only reason the No Man's Land concept even worked. If you're gonna rip that plot off, Miller, you gotta use an eastern neighborhood. Or a northern one. Or even a southern tip. Anything but west. That's like saying there's an east side of Chicago.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Fight Club

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone will say Jason Todd is protective of the people he loves. But sometimes independence is more important than protecting. 

Word Count: 4,000 [One Shot]

Warnings: harassment, stalking, general daily discomfort that women have to deal with 

Y/N was so fucking tired.

It was a miracle that she hadn’t fallen asleep on the bus home from work.

But anyone with half a brain knew that doing so in Gotham was basically asking to get robbed or worse.

Never fall asleep on public transit. Only buy purses and wallets that zip close. Never leave any personal belongings alone in public. Never use an ATM at night. Only take well-traveled and well-lit routes. Always be aware of your surroundings.

These were the unwritten rules of living in Gotham. It was how you stayed safe, how you stayed alive. But even when one followed them strictly, that didn’t insure that they would always be safe.

Which is why Y/N noticed a middle-aged man staring her down on the bus. He knew what he was doing. He knew that he was making her uncomfortable. He was clearly getting off on it.

Y/N just blasted the music in her headphones and pretended not to notice. But she could feel his leering and it made her stomach twist into knots.

She looked down at her watch: 6PM.

Y/N knew she could call Jason. She knew this.

It would take her all of 30 seconds to explain the situation, Jason would instantly understand and then be waiting at her bus stop for her, ready to escort her home safely and glare at whoever had made her uncomfortable.

But Jason was probably sleeping still. 

Last night, he’d returned from patrol needing stitches and had so many bruises scattered across his face that Y/N kept messing up her counting. She was also suspicious that his right hand was broken, but Jason brushed if off so smoothly that she let it slide.

The point was that Y/N had managed to force pain meds on her boyfriend. Jason always slept until late afternoon after patrols anyways, basically becoming nocturnal since he often wouldn’t get back until 5AM.

The meds were meant to make him sleep all day and force him to recover.

The stubborn part of Y/N didn’t want to prevent Jason from getting his much needed recovery and rest.

Except this guy didn’t plan on just staring at her.

When he saw that she was getting off at the stop that was just announced, he too stood up from his seat and moved to the other exit that she wasn’t using.

Y/N was aware of all of this, making sure to track him subtly through the corner of her gaze. It was from the conditioning that all women unfortunately had to go through, whether they realized or not.

Without turning around, she caught his reflection in the window of a building she walked past. He kept a distance to remain unsuspicious, but it was obvious that he was following her.

Y/N tried to subtly walk faster. But she also realized she couldn’t go straight home now. Even with Red Hood being her live-in boyfriend, there was no way she was letting this creep know where she lived.

She started taking a strange route, making weird turns. But it was hard not to lose him without fully running, which she didn’t want to do until it felt absolutely necessary.

But then she came upon a coffeeshop that she knew had a front and back entrance.

She quickly went inside and pretended to get in line for coffee. But when she looked for the man in the corner of her eye, he wasn’t going to come in. Instead, he decided to linger outside and wait for her to come out.

Y/N subtly left the line and made for the back exit.

‘Now it’s time to run,’ she thought to herself.

Y/N was grateful that she had decided to wear stylish sneakers today instead of heels.

By the time she reached the steps of her apartment building, she was breathing heavily. She had been looking over her shoulder every few feet to make sure the creep didn’t get smart.

When she reached her door, she made sure to be quiet in case Jason was still sleeping. Then when she reached the bedroom and quietly opened the door, her mountain of a boyfriend was still passed out in bed with his face pressed into her pillow.

Y/N decided to get started on dinner and quietly moved about the kitchen.

But no matter how much she tried to concentrate on her cooking, her mind kept returning to the man who had tried to follow her home.

What would he have done if he found out where she lived?

Did he plan on grabbing her before she got there?

Did he just get off on making women scared?

Was he planning on raping her? Abducting her? Killing her?

The more Y/N thought about it, the more her fear shifted into rage. Why was it so much more unsafe for women to just merely exist in the world?

But she had no intention of telling Jason.

He would be furious. Not at her, at a man who thought it was OK to even make his girlfriend feel uncomfortable and unsafe – let alone any woman. He would go on a hunt for him and teach him a lesson.

Jason Todd was protective of the people he loved and the innocent – of which Y/N was both. But he also had a bad temper. And whoever was the reason for it starting up better run for their life because Red Hood was not a merciful man and his morals were unpredictable.

So, no. Y/N was not planning on telling her boyfriend, who was also secretly a vigilante with rage issues, about the man who ogled her on public transit and tried to follow her home.

But Y/N was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear said boyfriend finally wake up.

Next thing she knew, someone was slowly wrapping their arms around her waist.

Y/N jumped.

Obviously it was Jason. She knew that. This was not uncommon behavior for him.

But after the day she had and being lost in her thoughts, the feeling of someone’s touch scared the life out of her.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jason immediately muttered in a whisper at her reaction. “It’s just me.”

Y/N turned around in hopes of easing any worry before he asked any questions.

“Sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t hear you wake up.”

But Jason narrowed his gaze at the crazed look in her eyes. He could somehow feel her heart racing as he gripped her torso, and traced lines up and down her rib cage with his thumbs in an attempt to soothe her.

“What happened?” He asked as he brushed some hair out of her face.

“Nothing. I’m fine. I was just in my head and zoning out, so you scared me.”

Jason was basically a human lie detector. So he raised an eyebrow at her attempt.

“Y/N,” he warned.

She sighed and shook her head. “Promise you’ll just listen? That you won’t freak out?”

Now Jason was even more worried. “Y/N, what happened?”

She sighed again, knowing it was pointless to ask him not to freak out when it came to her. Now all she could hope for is that she’d be able to calm him down.

Y/N explained what happened to Jason: the bus, the following, the running to make sure a threatening stranger didn’t follow her home.

She could see Jason’s body getting more and more tense, and his expression angrier and angrier. His hands clenched into fits. His posture straightened with purpose.

“Did he grab you? Did he touch you?” Jason asked as soon as he was sure she was done with her whole story.

“No, but…” her words died out.

“He didn’t have to for you to feel violate,” Jason offered her.

Y/N nodded and hung her head.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jason asked softly.

“I…I don’t know. I wanted to you to rest.” Then Y/N really thought about it. “And despite his intentions being very clear…there was still a voice in my head telling me not to overreact, that there was a small chance I was being paranoid.”

“Y/N, even if you had been wrong, I would’ve rather you felt safe than worry about being wrong. I wouldn’t have been mad at you, or even annoyed.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N.” Jason sighed and pulled her into his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just love you and want you to be safe.”

She nodded into his shoulder.

———

For the next week, Jason was waiting for Y/N every day after work at her bus stop to walk her home. She didn’t ask him to or even suggest it. But Jason knew she was still shaken after the incident. And the last thing he wanted was his girlfriend living in fear.

On the eighth day of him doing this, Y/N finally spoke up.

“Jason, ya know, you can’t do this forever…”

“I know,” he smirked.

“Why are you smiling?”

“How would you feel about me teaching you some self defense?”

Y/N stopped walking and turned to face him. “Are you messing with me?”

���Nope.”

———

The next weekend, Y/N found herself in the bat cave with her boyfriend, both of them in workout clothes.

“First things first, you have to gain your strength. I can teach you all the moves I want, but you have to make sure your body is in the right condition to defend yourself. And I don’t mean just physically. Confidence is key, beautiful.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the last part, but still smiled.

“Did we have to have an audience?” She asked as she looked over to see that Tim was on the computer, and Dick and Barbara were working out together.

“Ignore them.”

The next couple of hours, Jason taught Y/N all of the basics of self defense. Especially the tips that benefitted women.

Eye strike. Knee to the groin. Heel-palm attack. Elbow hit. How to escape from a bear-hug attack. How to free herself from a choke hold. How to get out of a headlock.

Y/N was covered with sweat. Meanwhile, Jason looked as put together as he had when they started.

“OK,” she finally said with hands on her hips as she tried to catch her breath. “But if someone that’s the same size as me tried to attack me, I don’t have a chance.”

Jason tilted his head to the side. “And who said that?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “J, come on. Look at you! Do you really think I would be able to get away – no matter how hard I tried?”

She looked her boyfriend up and down. He was built like a tank, standing at 6’3 and with an almost inhuman width. Just his thighs seemed bigger than her torso.

While Y/N loved cuddly with her giant teddy bear of a boyfriend, she had mercy for anyone that decided to pick a fight with Jason Todd or Red Hood. They didn’t stand a chance.

“Size isn’t everything,” Jason told her with a wink.

She rolled her eyes again.

“Dick! Barbara! Can you come here for a sec?”

“What’s up?” Dick asked with Barbara by his side.

“Y/N thinks that she’d never be able to take on someone bigger than her,” Jason shared with them.

Barbara didn’t even bother trying to hide her laughter.

Dick smirked. “It’ll take a lot of training, Y/N. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to kick Jason’s ass. Until then, let us know if he’s giving you any trouble and we’ll handle him for you.”

Jason glared at his older brother, but chose not to give his usual sarcastic retorts. He turned his attention back to Y/N instead. “Dicky here is 5’10 and about 175. Meanwhile, Babs is 5’6 and can’t weigh more than 120.”

Barbara crossed her arms. “Didn’t you ever learn that it’s not polite to comment on a woman’s weight?”

Jason gave her an apologetic look but he knew she wasn’t actually offended. “The point is that I’ve seen Barbara hand Dick his ass more times than I can count. Not to mention guys twice her size.”

Then he looked at the couple and gestured to the sparring mat. “Would you be so kind?”

Dick didn’t seem to have any issue with facing off with his girlfriend.

Meanwhile, Barbara looked excited.

As the two of them began sparring, Jason lowered his voice down to Y/N and pointed out Barbara’s strategies and moves. Then he would explain how she was manipulating her smaller frame and turning it into an advantage.

Next thing Y/N knew, Barbara had Dick on the floor.

Dick was beaming up at his girlfriend with nothing but pride and awe.

“See?” Jason muttered quietly in Y/N’s ear.

Barbara laughed and held a hand to help Dick up. He jumped back onto his feet and gave his girlfriend a kiss. 

“What’s going on?” A voice said at the bottom of the stairs.

They all turned to see Damian had entered the Bat Cave.

“Teaching Y/N some self defense,” Jason shrugged.

Damian sighed. “I do not understand why society does not train women to defend themselves – especially when they are not protected from evil men.”

Y/N laughed. “Not everyone was raised by a league of assassins, Damian.”

But then Damian’s words hit her again in a different way. She spaced out for a moment.

Jason looked at her with concern. “You OK?”

She just nodded.

He wasn’t convinced, but let her be. “I think that’s enough training for today.”

Jason’s brothers convinced him and Y/N to stay for a family movie night. 

They used Jason’s old room to shower, since Y/N was covered in sweat by the end of her self defense lesson. Jason gave her some of his old clothes for her to wear that he’d left behind.

When they got to the theatre room, Jason could tell how exhausted Y/N was. She was going to be sore tomorrow – probably for a few days, actually.

She curled into Jason as they grabbed one of the love seats. In moments like these, Jason was always amused how she seemed more like his pet cat than his girlfriend.

Dick and Barbara cuddled together, as well.

Damian brought a book, pretended to already be bored, and acted like he was forced to join family movie night.

Tim brought in his laptop so he could continue to work.

Alfred brought them snacks every so often.

Even Bruce came in halfway through the movie, making his entrance so subtle that they almost didn’t notice.

But lo and behold, not even 15 minutes into the movie, Y/N had passed out. 

Jason ended up having to carry her to his car after the movie – not that he minded in the slightest – and drive home as smoothly as possible, so he didn’t wake her.

———

A few days later, Y/N found Jason reading while lounging on the couch in the living room of their shared apartment.

She hopped on beside him, laying across his chest and sliding underneath his book.

Jason chuckled at her antics and put his book down, realizing she wanted his full attention and not just to snuggle while he continued to read.

“So, I was thinking…” Y/N began.

“Mhmm,” Jason hummed.

“I’m not the only woman in Gotham who’s been harassed. You of all people know that – probably better than I do.”

Jason’s amusement disappeared as he listened to where she was going.

“Did you know that in most big cities, there are almost always more women than men?”

“I did not.”

Then she sat up straight, but remained close to him. “But Gotham is the only major American city where there are 20% more men than women.” She waited for him to interrupt, but he just continued to pay close attention. “Researchers believe it’s because of the high crime rate in Gotham, and therefore it’s even more unsafe for women to live here than men.”

“Makes sense,” Jason agreed. “Why are you telling me this?”

“When you started giving me self-defense lessons and then Damian made the comment about no one training women, I kept thinking how other women don’t have a family of vigilantes to keep them safe or teach them how to defend themselves.”

“I’ve seen enough of this city to know that you’re right,” Jason commented darkly.

“Exactly.”

“You still haven’t explained why we’re talking about this…”

“Right,” Y/N smiled embarrassingly. “What if we – I don’t know – started a center for women to learn what you taught me. Completely pro bono. Like a…”

“Fight Club?” Jason offered with a smirk.

“Well, not exactly. But kinda,” Y/N giggled.

Then she frowned as her mind was still working all of it out. “I just don’t know who could teach it. You and your family are already too busy. Teaching women how to defend themselves is a little beneath you…”

“First of all, it’s not beneath us. But you’re right: Dick barely has a second to spend with Babs. Tim is so sleep deprived that he’s just gonna collapse one day. It also wouldn’t be smart for our cover and show that all the Wayne kids can hold themselves in a fight. People might start putting things together...”

“Right,” Y/N agreed and looked further disappointed.

“Hey,” Jason said with an encouraging smile and lifted her chin to look at him. “It’s a good idea. And between my brothers and me, we know plenty of retired heroes that would be more than willing to help out.”

Y/N’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

He nodded. “Dinah, Roy, Wally and Artemis. Hell, I bet if Bruce mentioned it to Diana, she’d smuggle in some Amazons to really show ‘em.”

Y/N smiled at the idea.

“You should tell Bruce,” Jason added.

“Bruce?”

“He has a habit of blindly writing checks for a good cause. I bet he’d just straight up buy you a warehouse to hold classes in.”

She frowned. “I don’t – won’t he feel like I’m taking advantage of him?”

Jason laughed. “I know he’s shit at showing it, but Bruce likes you. And I think he’d be more than happy to help.”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over. “Bruce Wayne likes me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head…”

“So, you think this is a good idea?”

Jason couldn’t help himself when she looked this adorable and excited. He grabbed her torso and flipped them so her back was on the couch and he was now hovering above her.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he told her softly before kissing her.

But before Y/N could push the intimacy any further, Jason pulled away from her lips.

“I have to tell you something,” his voice suddenly went serious.

Y/N’s smile dropped. “What? What is it?”

“I know you didn’t want me to…”

Then she sat up, lightly pushing Jason off of her. “Christ, Jason. What did you do?”

He took in a quick breath. “I found him.”

“Found who?”

“The guy who followed you.”

“Fuck,” Y/N put her hands over her face. “Jason. God. What the fuck.” “I know! I know. I should’ve told you sooner.”

Y/N rubbed her face and looked at him. “Please, please tell you didn’t kill him.”

Jason had the audacity to roll his eyes. “I didn’t kill him, OK? Happy?”

“No, I’m not happy! You went after him when I explicitly asked you not to!”

“Did you forget that the guy you’re dating is also a vigilante? In what world did you expect me to not look him up?” He shook his head in wonder. “I mean, the idiot’s face was all over the public transit database I hacked when I looked up the footage from the cameras on your bus – not to mention the footage from half the storefronts you walked by.”

Y/N only glared at him.

“Don’t be mad,” he requested.

“Well, I am.”

Jason sighed. Then he scooted closer, hoping she’d allow it. “Look, I get what’s going on. And I get why you want to help all these women.”

She eyed him, but let him continue.

“I’m sure it’s hard to believe, but I know what it’s like to feel like you can’t protect yourself.” He cleared his throat, catching himself. “I know it’s not the same as what women have to deal with on a daily basis. I’ll never really know what that’s like.”

Jason kept all the terrible things he’d seen on patrol to himself. But there were things he knew would terrify and traumatize her. Because of this, Jason wasn’t as oblivious to the suffering of women as the majority of men were. Or maybe he just chose to actually acknowledge it and care.

He took in a deep breath. “But I just hated the idea of someone doing that to you. And I know there’s probably a million times its happened and you haven’t told me, or you didn’t even notice because you’ve gotten so used to it. I just…I couldn’t let him get away with it.”

Jason paused to let her process his excuse. He’d be the first to admit it wasn’t a good one.

But Jason Todd was fiercely protective of the people he loved. And Red Hood’s sole purpose was to protect the those who couldn’t protect themselves – no matter the cost.

So when his girlfriend was troubled enough to lose sleep or zoned out constantly to rehash what happened, he was going to do something about it.

Jason was fully aware of his anger issues. But he also learned how to redirect them to be something a bit more productive.

“So…what did you do to him?” Y/N asked nervously.

He gave her a look, silently asking her if she really wanted to know.

“Jason…” she warned him.

“He had a record, OK? Let’s just say you weren’t the first woman he’s done that to. And a lot of them weren’t as lucky as you. So he got what he fucking deserved.”

“And what is that?” She pushed, refusing to let him gloss over it so easily.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I roughed him up a bit, alright? Told him I’d be watching. Scared the shit out of him enough that, hopefully, he won’t ever pull that shit again.”

Y/N let out a laugh and shook her head at him.

Jason would take her amusement over her anger any day, even if she was teasing him.

“What?” He asked through a grin.

She bopped his nose. “So protective over me.”

Jason had enough of the distance between them.

He moved her body so she had no choice but to sit on his lap. “‘Course I am.”

Then he kissed her. But when he pulled away, his face was rather thoughtful.

“You’re not going to feel helpless forever, ya know.”

They were words to comfort her. Because deep down Jason knew that promising to always be there for her wasn’t going to make her feel better. She wanted him as her boyfriend, not her bodyguard – despite Jason being more than happy to be both for her.

“I know,” Y/N confirmed with a shy smile.

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

Whatcha think?

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 23

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

@alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 22

Next Chapter: Chapter 24

Alastair was exhausted. By the time they made it back, it was seven in the evening even if they’d been in the land in between for much shorter. He was cold, still soaking wet, and he didn’t want to know what had been in the water that had flooded the dungeon. He imagined he and Cordelia both smelt terrible, but completely covered in it, Alastair could not smell it himself. It was frustrating, because Thomas and Lucie did not indicate anything about their scent, but Alastair suspected they did smell whatever had been in that water and were just too polite to mention it. Thomas didn’t touch him and kept a little more distance than he usually did.

All the way back to the Herondale’s manor, Cordelia and Alastair were arguing about who could use the bathroom first, until Lucie pointed out there was a second bathroom connected to the master bedroom.

‘Why do you both want to go second anyway?’ Thomas asked. ‘I’d imagine you’d argue about who gets to go first.’

‘Because I am cold and dirty and want to use the bathroom for at least an hour, and if I go first, Cordelia will start yelling at me to hurry up after about ten minutes,’ Alastair said.

Thomas tilted his head. ‘And if she goes first?’

‘Then I will yell at her to get out after ten minutes,’ Alastair said. ‘And since I am freezing I’d be completely justified.’

‘We both have very excessive bathroom rituals,’ Cordelia added. ‘Especially when we’re this dirty. But staying in there for an hour would be rude if someone else also needs to use the bathroom. So whoever goes second can yell and be completely justified, and then has all the time they need to get warm and clean. It’s a good thing there are two bathrooms and we can both go take a shower.’ .’

Two separate bathrooms sounded good. He remembered his childhood home had had that too, before his father had been forced to sell the family home when Alastair was around five. Jem had bought it back a couple of years ago, but Alastair found it difficult to imagine why one person needed a house that big. Although he guessed Jem had grown up there too and had lost his parents at a young age, so perhaps there were sentimental reasons.

Both the Herondales and the Lightwoods were at the manor. Will and Tessa were reading as usual, Sophie was tidying something up in the kitchen and Gideon was pacing back and forth until he noticed the four of them.

‘Finally, you’re back,’ Gideon said, concern written all over his face. ‘What happened?’

‘We got the skin,’ Cordelia said. ‘Grace is free. But the dungeon the skin was hidden in was completely flooded, so if you don’t mind I want to use the bathroom. Alastair and I both do, and Lucie mentioned there was a second bathroom.’

In the end Cordelia took the bathroom connected to Will and Tessa’s bedroom while Alastair took the one upstairs, glad to finally have some peace. He was exhausted as well as cold and dirty. There was a huge bathtub in there and Alastair turned on the water while getting in the shower to first rinse off the worst of the filth and to get warm again. He got out of the shower when he felt like he was semi clean and the bath tub was nearly full. Even if he’d been in the shower for some time and felt a lot cleaner than before, he was still so cold. He got in the bathtub. There was even a bubble bath function, exactly how rich was Lucie’s grandmother?

Perhaps he should ask Thomas to join him here sometime. He imagined that would be nice. Alastair allowed himself to relax. Although he was exhausted, he did feel a lot better than yesterday. At least with Grace freed, he felt like he’d accomplished something. Like he wasn’t useless and deserved to be liked again. That was something he often struggled with.

He sought out memories, but unlike other days he didn’t seek out the bad ones. Right now he wasn’t seeking to make sense of the past, nor was he interested in hurting himself. Instead, he let himself settle comfortably into a memory of Thomas confessing his feelings to him, of their first kiss. It wasn’t all bad, the memories.

When he was younger, they didn’t have a lot of movies at home, so sometimes they would rewatch movies Cordelia had seen at Lucie’s place instead. His mother had been a little concerned about that, usually children being too quiet was bad news but them sitting on the couch for over an hour in the same position was just weird.

Lucie had a tendency to talk through movies, so Alastair had come to associate certain scenes in the Little Mermaid or Aladdin with her commentary. Alastair had always loved Aladdin as a child. Although now he was far more critical of the strange way in which the movie mixed together Persian, Arabic and Indian culture and architecture, at the time Aladdin had been one of the few movies with a main character who looked like him.

He returned to reality after a while, finally warm again and decided to stay in bath for a little longer. Bubble baths really were nice, Alastair guessed if he had ever had enough money for one he’d buy a bubble bath. In the current economical climate he doubted he’d even be able to buy a home, but he could dream.

***

Thomas was busy in the kitchen with his mother. He liked to cook, and was quite good at it. From a young age he’d wanted to go into the kitchen and look at what his mother was doing there, or help out. Barbara was a decent cook but didn’t love it like he and his mother did, and Eugenia had been banned from using the kitchen, but Thomas had picked up cooking quite easily. Now, they were making a vegan shepherd’s pie, Thomas was cutting the onion, trying to cut the pieces as tiny as possible. Compared to his mother, he was less sensitive to onion and was therefore always giving that task while cooking together.

‘Were you surprised?’ he asked out of a sudden. ‘When you and dad found out I like boys?’

His mother threw away the potato peels. ‘Not really. I remember when you were fourteen and would come home from school. You could only talk about this older boy you’d met, about how beautiful his dark hair and eyes were.’

Thomas realized his mother had a point, that wasn’t exactly subtle. And he couldn’t talk about his feelings for Alastair with his friends, so instead he’d talked about him at home. ‘That boy was Alastair,’ he said.

‘Really?’ his mother asked. ‘Now that you mention it, that was his name, but we never met him.’

‘I think dad suggested I invite him over for dinner, but Alastair barely acknowledged me back then and I didn’t dare. Nor do he think he would have accepted.’

‘And while you were singing his praises, James and Matthew could only complain about him. So we figured there had to be a reason why you thought he was perfect when your friends thought he was awful. We weren’t sure it was a crush, or if there was some other reason, we figured it was best to let you figure that out on your own.’

Thomas hadn’t realized it was so obvious, but looking back it was a miracle anyone had missed it.

‘Thanks for that. I don’t think I was ready to talk about it at that age, even if I wasn’t exactly subtle. We do have a bit of a history. While I was in love with him, he was awful to us. I think I idealized him then, because he was beautiful and smart and appeared so confident, and I downplayed his rudeness. But he isn’t like that anymore, he grew up and changed and he apologized for his behavior at school.’

‘People change,’ his mother said. ‘I believe people deserve a second chance. Especially when someone was so young when they made mistakes.’

‘Exactly. And now I feel like I’m getting to know the real him. You and dad, you do like him right?’

‘Of course we do,’ Sophie said. ‘He’s been nothing but polite, although a bit blunt. Your father sees himself in Alastair, he thinks Alastair struggles with connecting to people because of his past, and wants to help.’

‘Alastair thinks you only like him for his ability and his willingness to save me,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not sure why he thinks that, it seemed unlikely and he couldn’t really explain his line of thinking either.’

Sophie sat down at the kitchen table, cutting the carrots. ‘When you’ve been treated badly in the past, it can become difficult to accept kindness. At some point, you start to expect people aren’t sincere, they can’t be trusted, because that’s all they’ve known.

It was difficult for me, at first, to trust your father’s kindness because I knew people were not always genuine, because I’d been hurt before and I was scared it would happen again. Because I thought, with this scar, who could believe I’m beautiful?’

Before meeting his father, his mother had been in a relationship with a man who’d cut open her face when she’d broken up with him. He’d claimed that if he couldn’t have her, he’d make sure no one else would want her. The cut had left a scar across her cheek and her ex had eventually gone to prison.

Thomas didn’t know the details, but suspected her ex had been abusive before the break up already. People didn’t always realize how dangerous leaving could be for an abuse victim. His mother’s ex had turned to carving up her face with a knife. Benedict Lightwood had decided to sacrifice his wife when he realized she was leaving. He had to admire Alastair for being brave enough to leave his ex. Even if someone wasn’t physically violent it couldn’t be easy.

‘Do you think he distrusts your and dad’s kindness because of that?’ Thomas asked.

‘I think that’s likely,’ Sophie said. ‘I think he blames himself for what happened to him, and might not believe it’s possible for other people to genuinely care for him. Perhaps he thinks people have treated him badly because he’s a bad person, or perhaps he thinks that he’s too broken to be loved. Perhaps to him it is so unlikely that we care for him that it makes more sense that we are kind because we want something from him.’

Thomas figured it was something like that. But what did to mean for Alastair’s feelings for him? Did Alastair think he too would abandon him if things became too difficult? Or did he think Thomas would only stay with him as long as he could satisfy his needs, with no care for his own? Did he feel guilty about falling into that flashback last night when Thomas had touched him, like he was not good enough? Thomas wanted to make him understand that it wasn’t true, that he loved Alastair and wouldn’t abandon him, but he wasn’t sure how.

‘How do I convince him that’s not true?’ Thomas asked.

‘The only thing we can do is let him know we care,’ his mother said. ‘And be patient with him. Does he communicate his feelings to you?’

‘He tends to be honest and rather blunt with his feelings,’ Thomas said. ‘I like that about him.’

When Alastair wanted to be honest, he wasn’t one to dance around the message or his feelings. He was very straightforward and blunt in what he wanted to say, not much like what was common in Britain, to hide behind politeness. Thomas found it refreshing, to know that when Alastair said something nice he meant every word of it.

‘So make sure you communicate with him as well,’ his mother said. ‘I know you struggle with verbalizing your emotions, but you have to let him know how you feel or he might end up believing you don’t really care for him.’

Thomas nodded. His mother was right, he did struggle with telling people how he felt. Most of the time, it was because he was scared his feelings would inconvenience other people. He was determined not to do that to Alastair though, he knew his feelings for him weren’t inconvenient and they weren’t shameful. Nevertheless sometimes it was hard just to get the words past his lips. Perhaps that was why he’d waited so long to come out when he’d wanted to for some time. Ultimately, kissing Alastair when they would see was easier than telling them, but he knew he could not communicate with Alastair the same way, he’d have to tell him how he felt as well as show it.

‘Was it difficult for you, entering a new relationship after the last one had ended so badly?’ Thomas asked.

‘It took a while until I was ready,’ his mother said. ‘At first, I thought, who would want me now that I have this scar? I think Alastair might feel the same way, even if his scars aren’t literal like mine is. It took some time before I started believing Gideon when he said I was beautiful. That is a process, and all you can do is support him and be gentle with him while he works through that.’

‘Last night, something I did triggered a flashback,’ Thomas admitted. ‘I thought he was okay with it, I think he thought so too. Or maybe he was scared to refuse because of how his ex used to treat him. Something I did reminded him of his ex and he panicked.’

‘Did you communicate what you both wanted?’ his mother asked.

Thomas had to think. He’d asked, of course, and Alastair had said yes. But perhaps what they needed was a more in depth discussion of what they both liked and what Alastair was comfortable with.

‘Yes. He likes it when I ask for consent before kissing or touching him. I think he didn’t see it coming. That it would trigger a flashback, I mean. But I don’t want to hurt him, and I think maybe he feels like he isn’t a good partner if he’s not ready to have sex? I’m not sure exactly, but I think his ex was very demanding when it came to sex.’

‘It’s best to ask him,’ Sophie said. ‘You said he usually honest and blunt with his feelings, so I think if you ask him how he feels about sex, he’ll tell you. Those aren’t always easy conversations, but it’s the best way to make sure you don’t accidently hurt him. And I think when you accidently trigger something, it’s best to apologize and move on when he does. Lingering on it might make him feel worse.’

They finished the shepherd’s pie and put it in the oven. Thomas always struggled with preheating the oven at the right time, he didn’t want to leave it on for a long time while he wasn’t ready to put anything in it, but it was also annoying when everything was finished but he had to wait for the oven to get warm. It was another half an hour until it was done, which would give Alastair and Cordelia plenty of time to finish bathing. Thomas hadn’t wanted to say anything but they did smell awful after coming out of that dungeon soaking wet, and he could tell they were both chilled to the bone. He hoped neither of them would get sick.

Thomas sat down on the couch with his father and Lucie. ‘I’d been waiting for you,’ Lucie said. ‘I thought it would be better with you here.’

Gideon frowned. ‘What’s going on?’

‘This might be difficult to process,’ Lucie said. ‘While I was waiting in the land in between, I saw a ghost. Not like I usually see ghosts, she was only half there, transparent like in the movies. Until I asked her to show herself so Thomas could see her too. When I was back in our world, I could do the same thing. According to Grace, I stole a soul back from the thief of souls.’

‘You stole a soul?’ Gideon asked. ‘I’m not sure I’m following. Is she a ghost now?’

‘She’s right here,’ Lucie said. ‘A ghost, yes, but no longer trapped. She’s your mother.’

‘My… mother?’ His father seemed in shock, his voice a whisper. ‘You mean to say she’s here?’

‘She’s been trapped for a long time until I found here. She didn’t realize how much time had passed until we told her and she found out Thomas was your son. She wants to talk to you if that’s alright with you.’

Thomas found it difficult to imagine what his father must be feeling. Would he be happy for a chance to see his mother, or would it only tear open old wounds? He knew Lucie had done the right thing to set her free, and hoped she could find peace and way to move on from this world, but he wasn’t sure it was kind to his father. Not telling him was infinitely worse though.

‘Yes, of course. How does this work? Do you tell me what she’s saying?’

‘Actually, I can make her visible,’ Lucie said. ‘Barbara, show yourself.’

Barbara Lightwood appeared once more, standing in the middle of the living room. She looked a bit disoriented, glancing around before settling her gaze on his father.

‘Gideon. It has been so long,’ she said. ‘Last I remember you were still so small. I’m so sorry for leaving you.’

‘That wasn’t your fault,’ his father said, tears in his eyes.

Thomas wondered if he should leave, if this was a private conversation, but Lucie couldn’t leave since she had made Barbara visible. Perhaps he should stick around for emotional support?

His father had a long conversation with Barbara, telling him about his life, about Thomas’ sisters. Barbara started crying too when she realized Thomas’ oldest sister was named after her.

Thomas imagined Barbara had to be devastated to learn what Tatiana was up to and hoped she could find peace with it. He didn’t think Tatiana could be persuaded to stop by a mother she didn’t even remember. Gideon was the only one of her children who remembered his mother at all, although uncle Gabriel claimed to have a few very vague memories even if he could not recall her face and had no concept of who she had been.

Alastair entered the living room, his hair still damp but otherwise dry, wearing a clean dark green button up shirt with black jeans. Thomas went to him, he didn’t think they’d explained to Alastair what had happened or who Barbara was.

‘That’s the soul Lucie took back, isn’t it?’ Alastair asked.

‘Yes. Her name is Barbara, and she is my grandmother.’

‘Benedict’s wife? The one he sacrificed?’

‘Exactly. Somehow Lucie saw her and when she made her visible, she pulled her through to the world she was in, and now she’s here.’

Alastair looked concerned. ‘Do you think the thief of souls will try to take her back?’

‘I’m not sure. But if she moves on, we think she should be safe. How are you?’

‘Tired, but feeling a bit better. The bubble bath was nice, you should try it sometime.’

Thomas wondered if Alastair meant he should try it because it was nice or he wanted them to use the bubble bath together. He didn’t dare ask for clarification. He’d be far too embarrassed if it turned out Alastair had no desire to take a bath together. Just after he’d told himself he’d have a conversation with Alastair about sex and what he wanted.

‘Maybe I will,’ Thomas said, not sure what he meant he’d do. He wasn’t opposed to taking a bubble bath with Alastair, but wasn’t sure Alastair was ready for something so intimate. He’d ask later, he told himself. ‘You smell nice.’

All traces of whatever dirt he’d been in were gone. Instead, he smelt sharp and minty, but also sweet.

‘Just my shampoo. And I guess also the scrub, bath oil and body cream, but they all have the same scent.’

‘I like it,’ Thomas said. ‘Like eucalyptus, maybe?’

‘That’s in the products I use, yes,’ Alastair said. ‘Are you alright?’

Thomas guessed Alastair had read some worry on his face. ‘Well, I never knew my grandmother so it’s mostly confusing. I think it’s hard for my father though. He lost his mother when he was five, it’s been a very long time and seeing her again has to be painful.’

‘I can’t even imagine what that’s like,’ Alastair said. ‘But I’m happy for him that he gets the chance to talk to her even if it’s only once. He deserves that.’

‘They really do care for you, you know,’ Thomas said, returning to the kitchen with Alastair in tow to check on their shepherd pie.

‘Your parents?’ Alastair asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know,’ Alastair said, head bowed down, avoiding eye contact.

‘I just asked my mother, she likes you and you remind my dad of him when he was younger. They both care. I’m not sure why you have this idea that they don’t, but I thought you should know.’

‘I don’t know how to explain,’ Alastair said, still refusing to look him in the eye.

Thomas guessed eye contact might be difficult for him. Lucie was the opposite, staring into people’s eyes so much it became uncomfortable. She was a writer, after all, and how else was she to know Thomas’ hazel eyes had both hints of green and gold in there?

‘My mother thinks it’s because you were hurt so badly you find it difficult to believe people could love you. If you want, you could talk to her about it. I may not know what it’s like, but she does. Her ex hurt her too.’

‘Not everyone is as easy to love as you are, Tom,’ Alastair said with a sigh. ‘Now that you’ve seen the extent of my scars, how long until you realize that I’m just not worth the pain?’

His mother was right, Alastair did believe he could not be loved. He believed Thomas would grow tired of him? That it was painful and difficult to be with someone like him and it wasn’t worth it? How could Thomas make him see that he was wrong, that he was loved and that he deserved that?

‘You are worth it,’ Thomas said, running a finger through Alastair’s soft dark hair. ‘Having a mental illness doesn’t make you unworthy of love, it doesn’t make you too difficult.’

‘You realize that this might never go away, right?’ Alastair said finally looking up. Thomas realized with a shock there were tears in his eyes. ‘I still have hope for EMDR, but PTSD is a very difficult disorder to treat. Perhaps it will get better over time, but it might not.’

Thomas imagined that was a difficult idea for Alastair to cope with, knowing that he might never get better. He’d read a lot on PTSD in the past week, and it was true that it was difficult to treat, especially when caused by prolonged childhood abuse. But according to his admittedly limited internet research, even then people could learn to cope better, find better support. One metaphor he’d found interesting was how the symptoms were like waves of the ocean, Alastair might not be able to stop them but he could learn to surf.

‘And if it doesn’t go away, I’ll still want to be with you,’ Thomas said. ‘I’d still do the best I could to support you. My feelings for you are not conditional on you getting better, although I certainly hope you do. For your sake.’

‘It’s easy to say that now,’ Alastair said softly, once more refusing to look him in the eye.

‘I’ll prove it to you then,’ Thomas said. ‘I don’t care how long it takes until you believe me, but I’ll keep proving I care about you.’

‘Just how do I intend to do that?’ Alastair asked.

‘Well, I’m still figuring that out but it would involve lots of cuddling. And my mother thinks it’s important that I tell you how I really feel, so I’m going to do that too.’

Alastair’s expression changed, showing a small smile someone else might have missed. ‘I’d like that. When will you be next available for cuddling?’

‘Give me a moment, I need to check on the shepherd’s pie. You need to eat and I couldn’t feed you burnt food.’

Thomas checked the oven, everything looked fine and needed a little more time in the oven. He set the timer and returned his attention to Alastair.

‘I am available right now if you want. Another ten minutes until we can eat.’

[goldandbluesmiles]

Nickname Game

Summary: Bruce wakes up with a drug in his system and shenanigans ensue. 

Ao3

XXX

Jason was about to have lunch when his phone buzzed. He was going to ignore it until he saw who was calling him.

"Oracle," he said after picking up the phone, "Why're you ringing me during daylight?"

"Bruce has been kidnapped,"

A beat of silence.

"What?"

"Bruce-"

"Yeah. Yeah. I heard you," said Jason, "From where?"

"Lunch break," said Barbara, "Only a few witnesses and they've been kept quiet,"

"Okay," said Jason, already switching the call to Bluetooth and grabbing his keys, "What's the plan?"

"All the other Robins are out of town. You're with Cassandra on this one,"

"Okay," said Jason hopping on his cycle

"Jason?" said Barbara

"Yeah,"

"Good Luck," she said, "And be careful,"

xxx

There was no ransom demand. The kidnapping was done by a disgruntled former employee that Bruce and Tim had personally seen the termination of. Jason didn't need to know why it had happened. Neither Bruce or Tim was in the habit of firing people for no good reason. There had probably been something fishy going on.

He was more worried about how long it was taking them to find the man. Cassandra's taut muscles showed him she was worried too.

He's batman. He's fine.

It didn't help.

They did find him thirty-seven hours after the kidnapping. He was chained to the warehouse ground, covered in cuts and bruises. There were needle marks on him showing that something had been given to him.

He was unconscious, resembling a dead man more than an alive one.

It took all his will power and Cassandra's firm hand on his shoulder to keep from beating the perp to a pulp.

"Take him home," said Cassandra

Jason took a deep breath and steadied himself. She was right because of course, she was. The only bat with at least some common sense.

"Okay," said Jason, "Okay,"

xxx

The good thing about keeping the kidnapping out of the media was that they were able to bring Bruce home without raising too many questions. He was instantly taken to the med bay where Leslie did her tests as the various children of the manor slowly trickled in.

"He's stable," said Leslie, "From what I can tell he's on some cocktail of sedatives and pain mediation. I'm not sure what they were trying to do but it's nothing overly harmful. He'll probably just be a little loopy when he wakes up. If he's not up for another 48 hours, we should probably do some more tests,"

Jason can hear Tim and Alfred asking more questions but all he can do is stare at the nearly lifeless body was his da-former mentor.

"You did good," said Dick, gently squeezing his shoulder.

Jason tried to nod, tried to give any reaction. It didn't work.

He wondered how long it would take- how long it would take for this oily dark feeling in his stomach to go away this time around and if he would ever stop feeling it every time he saw the older man laid up in bed.

He wondered if he even wanted to stop feeling it.

xxx

When Bruce started to stir awake thirty-two hours after the rescue, Jason was the only one awake, the rest of the bats having dozed off at different spots around the cave.

"Hunghhhh," said Bruce as he stirred awake

"Hey," murmured Jason gently touching the man's shoulder, "You with us, B?"

Bruce blinked slowly, looking as if he was having a hard time focusing. Jason gave him a few minutes to adjust. Once he stopped blinking, he noticed that bruce was looking at him with an odd tilt to his head and a confused look in his eyes.

He frowned. Maybe the injections had some side effects.

"Hey Bruce," said Jason, "Do you know who I am?"

Bruce frowned in concentration and then a bid dopey smile spread across his face.

"Murder Baby," he said

Jason couldn't believe his ears, "What?"

"Murder Baby!" said Bruce, this time a little more enthusiastically

"What?" this time his question came out in a screech and prompted everyone in them cave to wake up. Dick fell off the chair, Timmy and Duke accidentally elbowed each other from where they were curled up together. Everyone also looked ready for a fight. Cass was the only one who looked even a little calm.

Bruce grinned and waved when he saw all fo them.

"What's wrong Little Wing?" asked Dick, "Everything okay with him?"

Jason didn't know how to answer.

"Uh, B tell me again who I am?"

Dick frowned but Bruce answered without missing a beat.

"Murder Baby!"

There were a few murmured 'what the hell's around the room?'

"Father what's wrong with you?" asked Damian, coming to stand beside Jason

Bruce grinned again and bopped Damian on the nose "Little Cutie!"

"Oh my God," said Dick gleefully, "It's the drugs,"

Bruce turned at the sound and smiled at Dick, "Birdie!"

"Well okay then," said Tim.

Bruce grinned and made grabby hands at Tim. Tim carefully came closer only for Bruce to bodily haul him up on the bed.

"Hi dad," said Tim, a happy grin on his face. Jason thought it looked good on him.

"Coffee boy," murmured Bruce, gently poking his cheek.

"Ain't that accurate," scoffed Stephanie

"Eggplant girl!"

"That's also accurate," said Tim, "Hey B who's that?"

Bruce followed Tim's finger to Cass and smiled, "Dancey girl,"

A few chuckles were heard around the room and a game was made of it.

Duke was dubbed 'little mister light'

Kate was 'Kit Kat', apparently a childhood nickname by Bruce

Barbara was 'Little Red', another childhood nickname

Selina was still called 'Cat'

Harper was 'blue brat'

Cullen was called 'Cute bug'

But the real kicker came when Alfred finally came downstairs.

"What ever is going on down here," he asked

A few voices went up to explain but it Bruce's words that cut through everything.

"Hi, Dad!"

Silence. You could have heard a ghost pin drop.

"Master Bruce?" asked Alfred

Bruce held out a hand and made an impatient motion, "Dad!"

Alfred quickly came to his side and squeezed his hand, making Bruce smile a big dopey smile all over again.

"What is happening here?" asked Alfred, sounding both bewildered and happy

"He's giving everyone nicknames," Jason told him, "We think it's the drugs. He keeps calling me Murder Baby,"

"And apparently you're dad," said Dick, a soft smile on his face, "Makes sense really,"

Alfred smiled, a little wetness in his eyes, "I see,"

"You should hear what he's calling the rest of us," said Stephanie, "Hey Bruce, who am I?"

And then the nickname game began all over again.

"I didn't think he would use the word murder in association with me so...affectionately," said Jason

"You guys have come a long way," said Dick

"He's high on drugs," said Jason, trying not to let hope swell in his chest, "Probably doesn't know what he's saying,"

"He called Alfred Dad, Jay,"

Jason didn't have anything to say to that.

The real shock came when Leslie came over to check up on Bruce.

"Mom!"

Leslie stopped in her tracks.

"What?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's the drugs. He's giving everyone nicknames," said Tim

"And I'm..."

"Mom!" Bruce finished for her

"Well, baby," said Leslie, voice suspiciously rough, "Let's get you checked out,"

Bruce complied with a grin and nod.

Half an hour later, Bruce had dozed off again while everybody settled down around him.

"You all should really head upstairs," said Leslie

Nobody moved

xxx

Bruce woke up again two hours later but this time everyone was alert. Kate, Selina and Leslie had left while Alfred had gone back upstairs but the kids had all stayed.

Jason was once again the first one to notice that he was waking up.

"Hey, B," he said, "You with us?"

"Hmm, Jay?" said Bruce, prompting everyone to surround him once again.

Jason smiled, "Yeah. Yeah. It's me. How're you feeling?"

"I'm okay," he said, carefully, "How long was I out?"

"The first time nearly two days after. You woke a couple of hours ago and then fell asleep again," said Dick

Bruce frowned, "Please tell me you all haven't been here the whole time,"

"Don't worry about that," said Tim, "Do you remember anything from when you first woke up,"

Bruce frowned, "No, Should I?"

Everyone in the room shot each other looks, trying to but not succeeding in hiding their grins.

Bruce gave a resigned sigh, "Just show me the video,"

Four different phones were extended towards him. Bruce took Stephanie's and played the video displayed. They all watched him carefully as he cycled through very different emotions. Surprise, amusement, happiness and then utter bewilderment.

"I called Leslie, mom?" he asked, looking up at them

"Yeah," said Dick, "We were a little surprised,"

"I'm gonna have to talk to her aren't I?" he asked

"That's probably a good idea," said Duke

"Have you ever called her that before?" asked Tim

"Once," said Bruce, "I was around ten. I ran away and hid in my room for a full two days,"

"Wow,"

"Yup,"

There was a beat of silence and then Damian spoke up.

"Father, now that all this sentimental commiserating is over, I would like to bring up a complaint about the nickname you gave me,"

"Really brat?" said Tim, "Bruce was drugged for god's sake,"

"Quiet Drake," said Damian, "As I was saying, my nickname should not involve the work cute. I will allow little as I am the smallest right now but not cute,"

"But Dami," cried Dick, "You are cute,"

"I am not-Grayson! Get off of me- Father! Help!"

Bruce just shook his head and smiled.

Eventually, everybody wandered away from the cave, leaving only Bruce and Jason behind.

"So," started Bruce, conversationally, "What about this is bothering you? The murder part or the baby part?"

Jason stared at him, "I have no idea what you're talking about,"

Bruce raised his eyebrows and yeah, that was about eight on the Did you forget I'm Batman scale.

Jason sighed, "I don't know,"

"Is it a bad thing?"

Jason thought about it and landed on 'no'. Hearing it threw his for a bit of an emotional loop but it wasn't something that needed talking about. He would probably forget about it the minute he started eating Alfred's cookies.

"Nah. I'm good,"

"Okay," said Bruce, "Jay?"

"Yeah,"

"I love you,"

"Love you too, Old man,"

Yeah. It was good.

xxx

A few days after the incident, the family were all gathered in the den, having a rare night of pizza and movies. Well, the pizza was the rare part, not the movies.

Damian was grouchy about something like usual and talking-well complaining-Bruce's ear off.

Bruce was looking at his phone though and at one point pulled Damian close while shushing him absentmindedly.

"Hush, Little Cutie,"

There was a moment of silence and then the room exploded with Damian's screeching and everyone else's amusement.

Poor Bruce just looked bewildered.

"I-I didn't mean to say that," he muttered

It made Jason roar and double over.

"Your face!" he said between gasps

Bruce glared.

"Shut up, Murder Baby,"

It only made Jason laugh harder.

[zayray030]

I love you because you're human.

Summary: Dick overhears Barbara, Roy, Jason, Tim and Stephanie talk about his ass and he starts to question the things around him. At least until Kori defends him and reminds her boyfriend that she loves him. Dickkori. Mild Barbra Bashing.

“So what was the best part about dating Dick?” asked Stephanie.

“Oh, definitely his ass. God it was glorious.” sighed Barbara, pretending to swoon. All but one stated laughing at her dramatics.

“Must have made it for his far less lovable qualities?” joked Jason.

“Oh absolutely. As long as I got to stare at it I would forget about his stupidity. Hell even before we started going out I thought his ass was enough for me to ignore him.” sighed Barbara.

Another round of laughter went around the group.

“So you got free access to the Grayson ass. Must have been amazing, eh?” joked Roy.

“Sometimes I wish we could still be dating, just so I could have free access to it. But alas, there's so much a nice ass can get you.” joked Barbara.

“Fair enough. Surprised its prettiness managed to last that long.” muttered Tim, over his fifth cup of coffee.

“Hey, Timmy. That amazing could get him away with anything.”

As they all continued to joke around about Dick, they never realised that said owner of such an amazing ass had his comm on and was listening to every little thing. Hurt and betrayed he threw his comm across the room, forgetting to switch it off.

Honestly, Dick didn't know why he was so upset. He knew that he had a pretty ass and it was part of the reason why so many people dated him, but it still hurt when his own siblings and his exes talked about him as if he was a piece of meat instead of human being with emotions and feelings.

Then he started to wonder if what they were was true. Did people only let him get away with things because he had a nice ass and not a nice personality.

He collapsed on the floor, tears falling out of his eyes as he thought, am I worth anything except a quick fuck?

~With the others~

“So did you actually like him, or did you just find him physically appealing?” asked Kori. With anyone else it might have sounded inquisitive, teasing even, but on Kori it sounded threatening. However everyone was too drunk to take notice of the alien princess's tone.

“I mean partially. The guy is nice and all and super intelligent but at times he's just so frustrating that you have to focus on the pretty part of him to make sure you remember why you dated him.” said Barbara dismissively, not realising that she had just opened up a beast.

“So, instead of talking it out like a normal couple, you sexualised him and didn't take his feelings for account?” asked Kori again, more instantly.

“I mean kinda. It isn't like the guy doesn't spend most of his time showing his ass of to everyone else.” she answered, the alcohol making her brain to mouth filter non existent.

“And he can't just be walking normally without being sexualised by everyone, can't he?” Kori asked sarcastically. By now Roy and Jason were starting to notice something bad was going to happen but they decided to stay out of it. They learned their mistake of getting the princess angry once, they weren't going to do it again.

“Not my fault he's pretty.” snapped Barbara defensively.

“Ladies, ladies. Let's not fight.” Stephanie says, trying to play the peacemaker but she immediately collapsed on the floor. Must have had one too many drinks. They heard another thud and they turned to see Tim passed out in front of his computer. Must have had an hour less sleep.

“What does his physical appearance have anything to do apart from the fact that you can't trust the man!?” snapped Kori, her eyes showing anger.

“That anyone would want a piece of him!”

“He's not everybody's type you know!” snapped Kori. Barbara just scoffed and then they heard another two thuds and turned to see Roy and Jason passed out with bruises on their faces.

They must have punched themselves unconscious to stay out of this fight. Pathetic.

“Oh yeah? You dated him princess! You can't exactly say you didn't like him for his ass either!” challenged Barbara.

“Actually I liked him because when I landed on earth he didn't try to take advantage of me! He made sure I was protected and safe! He gave me a home! He never degraded me!” yelled Kori at the other red head. Her hands were starting to heat up and if Barbara didn't know how to keep her mouth quiet then Kori wasn't going to be responsible for her actions.

“What-” before she could continue she collapsed in a thud. Kori rolled her eyes at her before quickly placing everyone in comfortable positions while also cursing them in every swear she knows.

She might be pissed but that didn't mean she was going to let them wake up with a stiff neck and a sore back.

However, while cleaning up she saw Jason's comm and found it open.

“Hello?” she called onto it.

“H-h-hey Kori.” came Dick’s voice after a beat of silence when Kori thought that whoever was there was gone.

“Dick, how much did you hear?” she asked worriedly.

“Enough.” he said, his voice scratchy.

“Where are you?” she asked, already heading out to the balcony of the safehouse.

“My apartment.”

“Wait. I'm coming over.” and before he could protest she threw the comm away and flew out.

~Dick’s apartment~

Dick sat nervously on his couch as he awaited for Kori to come over.

What was he supposed to say? “Hey thank you for sticking up for me against my ex and siblings.”? Like hell.

Dick jumped when he heard a knock on his window and he saw Kory flying there. He quickly scrambled up and opened it up.

“What were you thinking? Do you want people to know I'm a vigilante?” he hissed.

“Or people could think that your amazing girlfriend had decided to come over and see her clearly distraught boyfriend? Take your pick Dick.” she said sarcastically as she lounged down on his couch.

“KORI! I am not distraught!” he snapped, crossing his arms to make a point.

“Of course you aren't Dick. Just do me a favour and sit here.” she said patting her lap. Dick blushed bright red but did as she said, albeit with some insecurity in his movements.

“Did you mean what you said, earlier?”he asked nervously, looking up into his girlfriend's green eyes, full of warmth.

“Of course I did Dick. I won't deny it, you have a nice ass.” Dick looked down at that but Kori placed her hand under his chin and tilted his face up. “But I didn't fall for your body. I fell for you because even though you didn't know who I was you still decided to save me. I love you because despite all your faults you still try and push through. I love you because you care about me and my feelings. I love you because you're human and not a piece of meat.”

With every word she said Dick’s eyes grew wetter and wetter to the point where tears were just streaming down his face. Eventually he collapsed into his taller girlfriends chest and started sobbing. Kori just rubbed her hands up and down his back in a soothing gesture.

Eventually when he was done sobbing he looked up, a light blush on his cheeks. “I love you Kori.” he said shyly.

She smiled softly back and kissed his lips briefly.

“As I love you. Now let me show you just how much I love you.” she whispered seductively before picking Dick up and carrying him to the bedroom.

Dick squealed slightly before wrapping his legs around Kori’s waist.

It was going to be a very good night indeed.

[ravenkinnie]

ao3

Cass isn’t big on teams which seems to be uncommon in her family.

It’s not that she hates working with others, getting away from Gotham to go on a mission with Birds of Prey is a genuine joy. It’s more that… she knows Oracle and she knows Birds; they work well together. Cass is not sure if people who don’t know her are comfortable with how she works.

She thinks that worries Bruce. Well, Barbara thinks it does.

So, Cass is gathering her wits after being knocked off her feet by a metahuman build like a brick house; she thinks maybe, just maybe, Titans missions are not necessarily within her range when a sudden surge in energy somewhere around her almost knocks her off her feet again. She would be annoyed but then there’s a hand on her shoulder and Raven reaches out with her other hand and the metahuman who was about to rearrange her bones flinches away violently.

Raven looks at her, seemingly mindless of whatever visions she sent onto him. Cass is reminded of unclear wild lakes she used to make her home, how the seaweed would grab at her ankles sometimes, dragging her down, and her heart thumps inside her chest once, strongly, on beat and then the energy is gone and Raven with it, disappearing as quickly as she appeared.

Titans missions are not within her range. Cass has never backed down from a challenge, though.

***

Duke has his ribs broken. Cass thinks it’s kind of dumb for metahumans not to have healing powers. She doesn’t think he will appreciate her opinion so she stays quiet; Barbara would call it growth.

She just keeps her arm on his shoulder as he cringes through Raven’s attempt to assess the damage with her hands. “It’s extensive,” she says, and Cass doesn’t worry; Raven’s stoic demeanour doesn’t change with the realisation.

Duke’s breath hitches. He’s about to say something and then his muscles relax and he gasps in surprise. Her brother will be okay, the momentary tension in Raven’s torso tells Cass that.

“Okay, yeah… that’s incredible,” Duke smiles at Raven and Cass squeezes his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Raven stands up, looks up from Duke right at her. It’s a small gesture, a flicker but Cass feels like she needs to stand her ground against it. “It seems pointless to create superhumans and not let them heal themselves, doesn’t it?”

Cass laughs, no point in keeping that in, Raven would feel her surprise and amusement anyway. She laughs and she’s glad she does because Raven seems pleased, but she shies away almost immediately. Cass wonders if Raven blushes on her chest when she’s flustered like Steph does.

“So, she does hate me,” Duke states, his voice is light but Cass sees some hurt in the lines of his mouth.

“She really likes you,” it’s true, there’s some gentleness and newfound fondness in the way Raven pressed her palms against his bruised chest.

Duke accepts her words but his body screams doubt. It’s odd how often her family would rather believe their own versions than trust her expertise.

***

She doesn’t really have a reason to be here. Well, she does – Damian has been staying between the Tower and the Manor more and more lately. Cass would lie if she said she didn’t miss his strained, expressive presence by her side in Gotham. It’s good for him to train with others, Dick said, be with heroes his age. He’s probably right but something in her rears its head to ask if its’ wrong to want her family close. Sometimes Cass can’t ignore that.

She takes a peep from inside the control room over the training hall. One of the younger boys Titans took in (Cass has never been good with names) is talking to Damian, his hands outstretched in an open, teasing manner. Damian frowns but Cass knows him, there’s no malice behind the expression.

“Vic said someone came around,” she turns around and Donna leans in the doorway, smiles at her warmly. Cass hasn’t really had much contact with her but Dick’s features when he talks about his best friend tell her everything, so she smiles back. “You should come down, I’m sure Jamie –“ ah, Cass thinks, Jamie”- would love to watch you two spar.”

Cass nods and Donna leaves. She lingers around, wondering if she should ask but also… maybe patience pays off. She considers it for a moment, shrugs off her sweatshirt and heads out of the room, leaving it draped over the back of a chair.

Cass is sure Bruce would not be happy with her motives. He should be proud of making her a strategist.

***

Cass has her routine.

It comes naturally to her at this point, every step and jump and punch rehearsed and repeated and planned out years in advance. That’s why it works, there’s no room to calculate how to land, how to twist her wrist or tense her muscles to soften the jumps and the kicks. Cass can recreate it and focus on the burn in her muscles and the clicks of her joints.  

Barbara thinks she gets it, the calming effect of repeating known movements. Cass isn’t sure she knows how to explain the pleasure in not just knowing but feeling her body has limits. She’s not sure she understands the push and pull herself.

She lands harder than necessary, sending shockwaves through her legs, when the air crackles with energy and she knows who it is before the figure materialises.

Raven has one of her hands in her coat pocket, the other one holding the sweatshirt Cass left at the Titans tower. She raises her eyebrow in tune with the hand holding the garment. “I thought I would drop this off.”

Cass can put on an act but there is no point, really. Not with most people, definitely not with Raven. “Good,” she shoots her a toothy smile.

Raven smiles back, Cass is sure it’s involuntary because she catches herself; her eyes travel around the cave briefly. Her hair is messy, the shorter pieces of her fringe must be tickling her cheek. Cass wishes she could tell if Raven notices that.

“So,” Raven says, looking back at her; the smile playing at the sides of her mouth looks voluntary this time. “I think you should invite me upstairs.”

***

So, Cass ends up on the couch with her brother’s teammate, their legs tangled together. She unbuttoned Raven’s shirt hastily, the gap in the material is small and uneven but Cass – Cass needed to see her hand against that smooth, pale landscape of skin.

Raven kisses her with purpose, her lips catching Cass’ own in tune with the hard thumping heartbeats in Cass’ chest; she thinks maybe there’s another tune coming from her, one only Raven can feel, one that guides her, one that says this is a good moment to pull away, that this is an even better moment to come back and catch Cass’ bottom lip with her teeth.

It’s a good rhythm, Cass very much likes that rhythm, especially when Raven tangles one of her hands in her messy hair and angles her head just enough to tease her lips with the tip of her tongue and her other hand travels down Cass’ back, her leg realigning between Cass’ own and oh-

-oh, that’s a very good rhythm.

***

Cass opens the door to the manor kitchen with her elbow and almost spills her iced coffee. She kind of hopes no one is around to see it but no such luck.

Bruce sits by the kitchen island, his face unshaved and a Tupperware container in his hand. He seems lost in thought when she walks in but blinks it away and says, “Morning, Cassie.”

“Morning,” she takes the seat across from him.

Bruce watches her carefully. He always watches her carefully. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.” She woke up half an hour ago, but he doesn’t need to know that. Damian didn’t exactly ask her to make a day trip with him to an art gallery opening in Metropolis, but she could see how his body vibrated with pure excitement. As much as he tried to hide his hopes, he couldn’t quite crack it with her. Cass isn’t a secret fan of modern art but she is a secret fan of watching Damian talk about it with barely contained joy and passion.

Bruce probably knows it all anyway. “I’ll ask Alfred to pack you some leftovers.”

Cass is pretty sure that’s Bruce’s way of making amends. He’s probably not even sure what exactly he’s making amends for anymore but the drive is stronger. Cass remembers a brief argument she started at a patrol once, just to rile Damian up jokingly, about how much better honeydew melons were than cantaloupes. She didn’t think Bruce listened to any of their bickering but the next day she opened her fridge to find it filled with pre-cut honeydew melons.

Cass is pretty sure Alfred had nothing to do with it. The fact that she didn’t like raw vitamins bothered him too much to attempt that.

Damian bursts into the kitchen, his coat only halfway on, Ace right behind him. He snaps at her, tells her to hurry up and is out the door almost immediately so Cass gives Bruce a quick hug goodbye and skips outside right behind her brother.

It’s not until she adjusts her rear-view mirror that she notices a pink-purple mark on her collarbone, just above the hem of her shirt.

Well. Healing powers don’t mean anything if you don’t use them.

***

“That’s a lot of fruit,” Raven frowns at her fridge.

Cass is chopping vegetables through onion-induced tears, so she just signs “yeah” and tries to explain Bruce’s fruit-based love language. Raven checks on the stir fry on Cass’ barely used stove, frowning more through the story.

Raven detangled herself from Cass’ arms earlier that evening, declared her eating habits sad, and send her to the store while rummaging through the cupboards to find kitchen utensils. Cass doesn’t mind, really; her diet consists mostly of beef jerky and chicken ramen; she’s pretty sure Raven’s vegan.

“So, you have a fridge full of your father’s love,” Raven teases; her brow smooths and she points her spoon at Cass. “Something about you just makes people want to feed you, I guess.”

Raven put on her oversized men’s flannel and left the buttons undone so Cass can trail down the hollow of her throat, through the valley between the slopes of her breasts, down the line of her stomach to the waistband of the boxers she also stole from Cass.

“I guess,” she repeats.

Turns out cilantro tastes like soap. Cass washes the aftertaste out between Raven’s thighs.

***

Whatever they have going on between them, whatever it is that they settle into at the end of the day - it's unlike any other relationship Cass experienced before.

She's not unfamiliar with friendships. Her and Steph build a camaraderie based on incessant picking each other up and pushing and pulling and laughing and crying for each other and together. Cass knows what it's like to settle into couch cushions with Steph, pretend like neither of them is enjoying the horrible, cheesy movie they put on and mock all the parts that actually pull on their heartstrings. She knows what it's like to fall asleep to a TV playing and wake up with her face pressed into Steph's shoulder

She doesn't know if she can describe what settling on the couch with Raven feels like but it's nothing like that.

They stumbled upon a random channel in Albanian one night; Cass isn't fully sure why she has that one or why Raven speaks Albanian well enough to understand the movie; she chooses not to question some choices. Cass lounged on Raven’s chest lazily, listening to her running commentary, the light from the TV flirting with the darkness behind her closed eyes. She’s pretty sure she could feel Raven’s hand caressing her naked back at some point. Pretty sure.

Cass fell asleep with her face pressed into the rise of Ravens chest and woke up against her cushions, Raven already gone.

Cass knows dating and she knows sex. This isn’t dating, she thinks, and granted – her track record of that might not be the best. There was Kon who just didn’t feel right in the end, and there was Zero who was nice and sweet and that was all he was and there was Brenda who… there was Brenda and they never got a chance.

She knows what’s supposed to be there, though. She knows what Barbara really says when she asks Dick to check in through the comm. She knows what Tim meant when he offered to help Steph with one of her classes. This isn’t dating because neither of them offers and neither of them asks.

This is sex and it's physical and that's odd because nothing about the way Raven moves is physical. It's odd because sex is a conversation, it can be a tense one, full of awkward silences or bitten back comments, it can be a teasing back and forth. Cass knows that better than most, she knows that what is being said is more important than how it's said.

She wants to focus on how Raven says it, though, she wants to focus on how Raven found the sensitive spot on her shoulder immediately, on how she catches Cass' earlobe with her lips and pushes her legs apart just as the wanton wave in her chest starts to rise.

Because the problem is, for the first time, Cass isn't sure what is being said.

That makes her uneasy. But she thinks she would miss it if she were to wake up with her face against the cushions again.

***

The world almost ended; it feels like the world is trying to end itself every other week so there's always work for Cass to do.

She's pretty sure the work caused her internal bleeding, though, and Raven seems to agree. Her hands feel cold and delicate and Cass' head is swirling like Alfred put it through a blender, her chest, her stomach feeling like they caved in after years of unnecessary and unexpected pressure.

The stony weight in her chest dissipates, it tingles away, pins and needles in her stomach and chest until she can breathe again. Cass opens her eyes and three figures hover over her, their concern heavy in the tension of their muscles even through hard panes of their costumes. She swats her hand at Bruce and Duke, she doesn't dare extend the gesture to Raven. Cass rarely can make out clear lines of her body like she can now; Raven is worried and she's holding it back.

She opens her mouth to reassure them, them or her, but Raven tugs the top of her costume down over her stomach, covering the skin that should be bruised and mauled. She lays her hand there momentarily, meeting Cass' eyes and before Cass can take her in, she's up and she's away, checking on someone else's injuries.

Bruce helps her up while Duke blinks in disbelief. He doesn't have to clarify what he means when he says, "You are unbelievable."

Bruce thinks he means the stunt she pulled to get her stomach smashed in and launches into a longish telling-off. Cass lets him. There's only love and concern in his stance.

Bruce checks on her later and tells her to take the pilot seat in the Batplane.

"You know, Cass," Dick pipes up from somewhere behind her and if he comments on her piloting again, she might throw something at him. "It's nice to see you get along with Titans, you could make some good friends there."

"It's true, Cassie," Bruce agrees.

Cass can't turn around to look at Duke, but she can imagine his face. "Unbelievable," he sighs like he's in pain.

Her family really should trust her intuition more. Theirs barely ever works.

***

People in Gotham wind up scared to death and it's not Scarecrow so Cass takes Dick's expertise and goes to the best source she knows. Bruce grumbles about metahumans in Gotham so Dick tells him "you can tell her that yourself" which shuts Bruce up. Cass thinks it's funny because Raven makes her ask for straws in restaurants.

"It looks like Phobia," Raven frowns at the Titans computer with Batman's files displayed. She's not worried or anxious, there's a bit of a weight in her shoulders, some disappointment in the realisation that someone else might not have caught but Cass can see it from where she's perched on the conference table. Raven looks sad and even more so, she looks human and Cass thinks she hasn't thought that about Raven before - not with both of them clothed.

There must be a story there, Cass might not know the details but she thinks she understands the emotions behind it.

"I'm sorry," she doesn't mean it to express her guilt because she has no place in that story. Cass heard it said this way before instead, the way that invites to share the burden or says that you already have and she's not sure why she wants to say it like this but - she does want to. She hopes she knows how, that the words sound correct.

Raven turns around to look at her and Cass knows she understood. She grips the edges of the table hard as Raven's hands slip over her own, opens her legs apart to let her slot herself in that space. Her stomach is tight, wounding itself up in knots and she touches Ravens cheek, her jaw, her lips with her fingertips like she's trying to read her. Maybe she is, because Cass can't figure out what Raven is saying by letting her breath warm up the air between their faces, breaking their eye contact by pressing her cheek against Cass' own like she doesn't actually want to be seen but Raven’s hands move away from her hands and slide up Cass' thighs, underneath the hem of her hoodie dress and Cass thinks oh.

Oh. She offered. She's not sure if Raven asked but she offered and this isn't sex, Cass thinks as Raven's hand slides to her inner thigh and up and through one of the fishnet holes.

This is comfort, this isn't her just offering comfort, this is both of them seeking it out. This is companionship and this is blood rushing to her head even before feeling Raven’s careful, delicate touch and this is her heartbeat seeming uneven and her hand resting on the back of Raven’s head and her other hand grabbing onto Raven’s sweater before the thought of it enters her mind.

Oh, they are really in it now.

***

It's not unfamiliar but it's different. It should make Cass feel more uneasy. It should make her feel uneasy that she can't read Raven well enough to know why she responds, just how she responds.

Some bodies are confusing, she knows that, they move according to whatever inner logic they construct and Cass doesn't always know how they tell themselves these stories and they don't always make sense to her but they are always consistent. They follow the internal storyline and she might not understand the world-building but she gets the plot points.

Ravens storyline feels and looks... fragmented, broken up, like she put together different pieces that lack context, that don't follow the same storytelling rules. She lays next to Cass, her body soft and pliable and then she will doze off and tense in her sleep like she's keeping watch but Cass knows nightmares and she knows Raven doesn't have those. Sometimes Raven whispers into her skin but Cass never understands the language, she's not sure if Raven is even speaking to her because it feels private, it feels like Raven’s confirming something for herself only. They will head out to grab food and Raven will fix her jacket collar, brush her fingers across Cass' face and move away, her body devoid of meaning.

Cass can't understand the narrative but the scenes she catches onto, the lines and settings she grabs onto because it feels impossible to just let them hang there - it carves itself in her bones, it makes her feel like the energy that enters the room with Raven is thrumming through her fingertips, her nerve endings. There's the power and there's Raven; Raven is the power but she's also the delicacy and the phone calls she misses just to search the number and the reality shows that she doesn't like but they still make her laugh and the passionfruit allergy Cass only knows she ignores because she can taste the tartness on her tongue.

She knows the story is there but she can't access it. She's not sure if Raven can or if- or if she just doesn't want Cas to do so.

Cass should be concerned but the pit in her stomach isn't concern. It's worse.

Raven is in Gotham now; she's not so much chasing a hunch but rather following her gut and so Cass decides to follow her own on a different matter.

So, she throws herself into patrolling the west side because she knows Raven and Dick are on the east side. Gotham picked tonight to rest, it's a quiet patrol which is unfortunate as Cass would love to punch her feelings out. She mopes around on a gargoyle, considers calling Oracle and hiding in her holo-room instead but then there's a flash of yellow and Duke lands lightly on his feet in front of her. He looks extremely unimpressed.

"I think Batman likes to brood on the west side gargoyles more. You should try those," he's teasing but she thinks there's some truth to that.

"I'm not brooding," it sounds weak and Cass can't even blame her disability on that.

Duke looks at her sceptically and then really looks at her. Cass wants to grab her grapple gun and swing away from his gaze but he speaks up quicker than she expected him to. "You're actually not. Oh wow. You're really in it now."

Cass loves her brothers more than anything; there's nothing she wouldn’t do to stop any harm coming their way. That doesn't stop her from half-heartedly throwing one of her Batarangs at Duke.

She knew he would dodge it.

***

Cass can't hide from Raven, not really, maybe she doesn't want to. Raven finds her in the Batcave and she doesn't have to say that Gotham is getting to her, this time the tension in her body is clear.

So, she lets Raven whisk them away. The metaphysics of Ravens travel isn't Cass' favorite but she can forgive it. The sand under her naked body feels nice and cool, goosebumps rising along her arms and legs and she stretches out to uncover more skin.

Cass looks to the side and Raven seems lost in thought, her thumb going over the material of the jacket Cass threw over her shoulders. The small bonfire Cass lit to sooth the goosebumps on Raven’s legs illuminates her but doesn't add any warmth. It casts shadows on the few exposed bits of skin; Cass wants to piece together a story from the shapes playing out.

"We just try to change it, but it always seems to bounce back," Raven says, lips glistening in the warm light; Cass doesn't know the world-building, but she catches the plot point.

"Then we do it because it makes sense," Cass says, stumbling over the words only a little, and Raven looks at her, really looks at her, and the goosebumps on Cass' skin have little to do with the breeze and the ocean roars in her ears.

She thinks Raven is piecing together her own story from the shadows behind her words and the pit in her chest tightens but maybe she wants to push through that-

-but then the jacket drops from her shoulders and Raven has sand on her skin and she tastes like Cass.

***

Dick swings on the bars like his joints have no limits on the angles they can take and Cass copies the moves, Steph following suit. She tends to neglect stretching and flexibility part of her training sometimes but her muscles start to burn quickly, reminding her why it's not optional.

Dick lands steadily, takes a look at the clock on the gym wall and grabs the towel Barbara throws at him. "Gotta go. I'm taking Raven to lunch, she can't leave Gotham without trying the vegan Nightwings."

"She doesn't like them," Cass says automatically and chokes on her water when Dick turns to her puzzled.

"So, that's why I barely see you anymore," Barbara teases as Steph laughs hard and Cass puts her hoodie over her head to pretend she's not there.

When she emerges again, Dick looks like he's investigating the case of his lifetime. "I didn't even know Raven was gay."

"She could be bisexual, " Steph throws her arm over Cass' shoulders. "I get it, she has that whole mysterious Victorian ghost shtick going on, like you just want her to hold your face and recite Charlotte Brontë," she stops, freezes a little in her confusion. "Am I bisexual?"

Dick's puzzlement turns into full shock. "Wait, we thought you knew."

"Listen, Cass," says Barbara firmly. Cass has to focus on her words through Steph's rambling right next to her ear, "however you feel, she knows. And she's still here."

Barbara doesn't read people like Cass does but she does know her.

The narrative straightens itself in the tiniest way. Cass thinks that's enough.

***

Maybe Raven is haunted by emotions like Cass is haunted by bodies. Maybe they are both haunted by narratives.

Maybe Raven is haunted by the power the way Cass is haunted by the delicacy.

Maybe it's offering and asking and along the way they both stopped asking.

***

Raven brings Phobia down with her and Duke is there to catch her; he checks Phobia’s pulse and her breathing and Cass let's him, her body is loose and her breathing is shallow but it's steady. It's not her priority and it doesn't have to be.

Raven feels and looks drained and Cass is there to fall with her, cushion her knees when they hit the floor, hold her back steady with her arm. She reaches up to brush Ravens hair off her face; she will tell her later to stop leaving it down when costumed because that's just not safe but maybe Raven's perception isn't affected by such earthly things and so maybe she will ask instead-

-and Raven looks at her as Cass' fingers brush her temple and her chest blooms instead of tightening under Raven's steady eyes, so Cass follows her gut and tilts Raven's head up to meet her lips with her own.

"Guys, not right now," Duke groans behind her.

"You knew?!" Cass isn't sure when Dick found them but she doesn't care, not with how Raven hides her face in the bat on her chest because now Cass knows that Raven does blush on her chest when she's embarrassed.

She hides her own face in Raven's hair and it smells like sandalwood. It smells like Cass' own shampoo.

***

Cass sneaks through the Manor halls with purpose until Bruce steps in her path while leaving his office. He stops so she follows, even though it takes him a moment to come up with words. It's okay, she knows the feeling.

"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," he offers; he looks awkward and embarrassed but his voice sounds steady.

 Cass meets his gaze. "Kon," she says; it's enough to make Bruce cringe with understanding.

He doesn't need to offer apologies, he's been trying to do so for years and now her fridge is full of honeydew melons. They stand there for a moment; Cass can see Bruce is piecing together the shadows. "That girl from Blüdhaven-"

"Brenda," Cass cuts in; the sting is there but it doesn't linger. "I really liked her."

Bruce nods. "Ask if she'd like to stay for dinner. Alfred will make her anyway but it's polite."

Cass smiles and sneaks past him, squeezing his arm briefly.

***

Cass slips inside the guest bedroom Raven took during her stay, closes the door behind her.

Raven is sitting at the foot of the bed, her cape in one of her hands, a sewing needle in the other, mending a hole she must have accidentally ripped at some point last night. Cass is sure Alfred would take care of it if Raven left the cape here but maybe that's too close to asking for her. Or maybe Raven likes to keep parts of her to herself just that much. Cass will be sure to ask later.

She sits next to her, loops her arm around Raven's back to keep herself up while she drops a kiss onto Raven’s shoulder. "Stay for dinner?"

Raven smiles, sets the needle and the cape aside carefully.

***

They are late for dinner, Raven thinks cantaloupes are superior, and Bruce looks like he has a headache.

Dating is nice, Cass thinks.

[bisexualsforprompto]

Of Roommates and Red Heroes Chapter 1

AO3

One (You are here)     Next

One- Of pilots and new beginnings

Jason Todd ran, ran away from the legacy he could never fill. The one he was still expected to fill. Didn’t they know? Didn’t they know he had changed?

God, was had he even changed? It’s not like he could ever make up for what he did. But he couldn’t wear the colors of the Robin ever again either. He crossed a line, he was past the point of no return.

And Bruce couldn’t let him forget it.

As far as Jason was concerned, he didn’t deserve a redemption.

He didn’t deserve a happily ever after.

Dick (in more ways than one): [is online]

Lil bro Jason: [is online]

Dick (in more ways than one): Come back.

Lil bro Jason: No.

Dick (in more ways than one): Please, Bruce didn’t mean it.

Lil bro Jason: Honestly I give zero f*cks if he meant it.

Dick (in more ways than one): So that's it. You’re just solo now and we’ll never see you again?

Lil bro Jason: You are welcome to visit when you’d like, along with Steph, Tim, Barbara, etc etc. I don’t want to see him again.

Dick (in more ways than one): He’s your dad!

Lil bro Jason: Godammit Dick! He’s not! Open your goddamn eyes! He’s not our dad, he’s a man who just uses us for his dirty work!

Dick (in more ways than one): I can’t stop you from doing this, but just talk to Bruce at least, if you don’t you’ll regret it, trust me I know.

Lil bro Jason: [is offline]

•~•Sunday Nov.17, 8am EST•~•

Knock, knock, knock.

“Mr. Todd.” 

Knock, knock, knock.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Jason said as he peeled a case file off his face, he’d fallen asleep the night prior reading it. Jason walked over to the nook where he kept all his ‘borrowed’ GCPD case filed which just happened to go missing from their archives every so often. For some reason, Jason liked to review case files. A lot. Maybe it was living with a detective for so long, but he felt at home in his own little world of files.

Jason brought a hand to his head, trying to shield his pounding headache. He remembered going out to the bar, but not much else. He brushed his hand down his face to feel stubble, another thing he’d have to deal with later. He fixed his hair a little bit before getting off his brown leather couch. He checked out what he was wearing, only pants. He sighed and picked up a plain black t shirt off the ground. Sliding it on, Jason walked over to the door and opened it.

Of all the things he was expecting today, he wasn’t expecting his landlord in full suit and tie showing up at his door. Unfortunately, it was his reality. A tall slim and bony man in a tacky olive green suit and oversized brown plastic glasses was holding a clipboard and pen in his hands. 

“Mr. Jason Todd?”

Jason sighed, “That’s me.” The man looked him up and down. Jason was about to yell at him for judging but decided against it. 

“You’ve been behind on your last payment for this flat. You have one week or you will be evicted.” The man said properly, leaving directly after despite Jason’s protests. Sighing, Jason shut the door.

He hadn’t found work in a long time. He’d been fired from his last job for drinking, and he couldn’t change his ways after being Red Hood and working with Batman. He went by the same mantle but working with Bruce did a number on him as always, only this time it was a positive change. He couldn’t work and make dirty money off drug cartels anymore, Red Hood was a lone vigilante but Jason Todd could only find himself doing honest work. Honest work that was very difficult to find in this day and age.

The only thing Jason could think that would save him would be getting a roommate. Jason sighed once more, all Gothamites were bat-shit crazy (pun not intended) and there was no way in hell he was taking Bruce’s blood money. Jason started drafting an ad and put it on Craigslist. The best he’d be able to do, hopefully before the date he’d be able to meet all of the candidates to make sure they weren’t insane. 

‘Searching for a roommate in a flat in Gotham Sun Apartments. $500 per month expected. Contact xxx-xxx-xxx for more information. (Images attached below)’

Jason rubbed his pounding temple, all he could do was wait.

•~Friday Nov. 22, 10am EST~•~•

“Voyage.” Marinette called before stepping into a black portal. She whimpered as she landed in a dark alley. “Tikki, Kaaliki, divide.” She whispered. “Spots off.” She was released from her heroine persona. Marinette was bloody, bruised and confused. She didn’t know where Kaaliki had taken her but she hoped it was far away from Paris. Marinette walked warily out of the alley to see a beautiful city full of life around her. Many people walked past and she could hear snippets of conversation, only something was off about them…they were in English! Marinette realized, could Kaaliki’s Portal have taken her to America or England? Thank god for Madame Bustier’s lessons or Marinette wouldn’t be able to speak a lick of English, she was practically fluent after all of her lessons. Marinette took out her pigtails and slid the bands onto her arm, she checked her purse, Tikki and Kaaliki were in there as well as $2000. Master Fu had given it to her before her...departure. 

Marinette continued down the street hoping to find some sign of where she was. Pedestrians gave her strange looks, most likely because of all her evident injuries. Marinette passed by street signs, all to generic to tell her anything. She accidentally bumped into a small girl wearing a sweatshirt that read “Gotham University”. 

Marinette knew it was a stretch, it could just be a random sweatshirt but still she was determined to try. 

‘Gotham University’ she typed into Google. Bingo. ‘Gotham University is a college in Gotham, New Jersey, America.’ So could she be in America? Marinette surveyed her surroundings, the most prominent building read Wayne Enterprises. ‘Worth a shot’ she mused. ‘Wayne Enterprises, Gotham’. Millions of hits, now she knew she must be in Gotham. Marinette continued to walk the streets to solve her next problem, where could she stay the night? 

Marinette sighed turning corners, looking for any signs around. She felt a rumbling in her stomach, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate. Marinette couldn't see any food places around. She wandered around looking wildly for a café, bakery, restaurant, anything. She didn’t even realize she was on a collision course until she bumped into a muscular boy, about 4 years older than herself with black hair with a white streak in it and blue eyes.

•~Friday, 9:40am EST~•~•

Jason groaned as he got up. He wasn’t drunk like most nights before. He immediately went to check his computer, still no hits on Craigslist. Jason sighed, he didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t get anyone to rent with him by Sunday. He refused to move back into Bruce’s mansion again. Jason picked up his apartment keys and went to look for some food, he couldn’t find a solution to a problem without food or caffeine (Tim had rubbed off on him more than he wanted). 

Jason opened his door and walked down the hall, he opted for the stairs as he didn’t feel like interacting with anyone at the moment. Jason brushed past the Gothamites on the street feeling extremely aggravated. He got lost in his own world of annoyance and didn’t even realize when he ran into a small blue-haired girl.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Marinette said turning pink. She backed away feeling extremely embarrassed, “I just wasn’t looking where I was going and-“ Jason recognized that she wasn’t from Gotham. She just didn’t have that shrewd personality that came with the territory of being a Gothamite. For some reason it made him feel warmer, and his anger felt more soothed.

“It’s ok little lady, really. What brings you to Gotham?” Marinette stared up into the caring blue eyes of the boy she ran into. “I uh, well, um nothing in particular. But would you mind showing me somewhere to eat?” She asked, not wanting to revisit why she had to leave Paris. He seemed caring enough, hopefully he’d take her somewhere to eat. The man nodded, “Of course. I was headed to a café myself little lady. Hey, what’s your name?” Jason could respect that the girl didn’t want to talk about why she was here, after all, Jason didn’t like talking about his own past. 

“Marinette.” Marinette blushed. “Alrighty then Marinette, I’m Jason. I’ll take you somewhere.” Jason wanted to scold her for putting so much trust in a stranger blindly as she followed him, after all this was Gotham but he just silently thanked that it was him who got to her instead of some creep. Jason led her to the Garden Café right next to where his flat was.

It might’ve been one of the only places in Gotham that wasn’t completely littered with garbage. It had beautiful flowers and an outdoor patio where patrons could eat. Jason lead Marinette to an empty black table and pulled out a metal chair for her. “Merci!” Marinette smiled, “Thank you, I mean.” Jason made the connection, “So are you from France?” Marinette nodded, “Yes, Paris actually.” Jason nodded, “What's it like there?” Marinette sighed, “Well aside from the terrorist, it’s beautiful and a great place to live.” Jason didn’t even had a drink yet but if he did, he would’ve spit it out right on the spot. “Did you just say terrorist?”

“Um yes, I assumed it was common knowledge. I mean I know Ladybug reached out to the Justice League many times…” Jason gritted his teeth, the damn Justice League. His father’s call no doubt.

“So whos Ladybug?” Marinette pondered what to tell the man across from her, on the one hand, he was the only kind one to her, but she didn’t want to accidentally give away her identity. “She along with Chat Noir, are magical heroes who wield jewels that give them power. Hawkmoth, the terrorist, wants them, because with them he can make a wish and have absolute power.” Jason's eyes widened, sure her story seemed like a poorly written children’s TV show but from the little time he’d known Marinette he’d figured a lot out about her, and he trusted that she wasn’t a liar. And wasn’t a very good one at that. Living with the world’s greatest detective, as much as Jason hated to admit it, did have some perks, Jason could read people without knowing them for long. 

“I guess it’s not ideal to escape a terrorist and end up in the crime capital of the world though,” Jason said, he couldn’t imagine why anyone would rather be in Gotham than anywhere else. Marinette hadn’t known it was the crime capital of the world, she wondered why Kaaliki’s voyage sent her there. Maybe she was meant to resume being a hero in Gotham?

“Y-yeah.” Was all Marinette could stammer out. Talking to Jason made her realize so many things she had to do, she hadn’t had much time to think about what it could be like living in another country. She didn’t even have a place to stay yet!

“I know this might be a touchy subject, but...how’d you get those bruises Buttercup?” Marinette touched her hand to her face and ran her fingers down one of the scars. “H-Hawkmoth.” At least it wasn’t a complete lie. She saw Jason clench his fists. 

Jason was seething, he couldn’t believe the league would ignore this! One look at this girl would prove that they should’ve listened. If Jason was still aligned with Bruce he would’ve had some choice words with him, instead he decided that he’d notify Dick and possibly the Outlaws the next time he saw them. Jason couldn’t help but feel awful for the girl, he knew what it was like to feel like you couldn’t escape the clutches of a madman. He’d lost a bit of soul to Joker. He wanted to run his fingers down all of her scars and just make everything better, she didn’t deserve that kind of torment. If anything, he did.

“Say Buttercup, where are you staying?” Jason asked before the waiter came to take their orders. Marinette answered the waiter with a simple sandwich and Jason ordered the same. “Um well...I don’t really know yet,” she responded to his previous question. 

Unacceptable, she was staying with him now. “How about you come back with me Buttercup. I know we just met, but I don’t want you sleeping on the streets. Gotham is dangerous.” Marinette blushed, just now noticing the nickname he gave her. “I couldn’t do that to you!” She protested.

“It’s not a problem, Buttercup, really.” Marinette sighed, she felt grateful for Jason. Maybe she was being too trusting, but she had no other options. “As long as you let me pay you something.” Jason thought about it, he didn’t want to put this poor girl out but then he realized,

“I think there's a way we can help each other.”

[thelittleredrobinhood]

The Shadows We Cast

This is my contribution to this years @batfam-big-bang Big Bang! I’ve never been apart of anything like this and it was incredible. I have never met such kind and talented people and I can’t wait to do more with all of them in the future. The mods are all amazing and wonderful people and I can’t thank them enough for existing. 

Special thanks to @shelbychild, @kuraness, and @xvivon for betaing this chapter, and @houser-of-stories for the art for this chapter, and @coravao and @dreamer-247 for the artwork for later chapters. You were all so incredibly helpful and I’m sorry I made you work so hard.

Chapter: 1/6

Length: 4,300 words

Fandom: Batman

Ratings: General Audiences

Trigger Warnings: Food Mention, Fire Mention,

Relationships: Dick Grayson/Barbra Gordon

Characters: Dick Grayson, Barbra Gordon, Jason Todd, Tim Drake-Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth

Summary:

Just another ordinary day in Gotham city and Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Duke are enjoying the calm in different ways. But in the sunlight everyone casts shadows, and some are harder to avoid than others.

Chapter 1: Dick

 The morning light shines through Dicks window, casting his small bedroom in a golden hue. He quickly glances at the clock on his bedside table, 8:00am faintly glowing on its screen. Dejectedly, he resigns to his fate; he has to get up.

After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he carefully turns to the other side of the bed to see the beautiful redhead sleeping next to him. Barbara Gordon - sometimes he still can’t believe it. How did he ever get a girl like her? She’s smart, kind, and brave... not to mention the most beautiful girl he has ever seen.

He takes a minute just to let it sink in, then carefully kisses her forehead, and, though her eyes flutter, she doesn’t wake. Silently, he sneaks out of bed and creeps out of their room. Normally Babs would cook breakfast, but she was up late solving a cold case with Tim, and Dick wants to do something nice for her.

He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, stretching his sore muscles as he walks. Each step feels as though his own body is against him, fighting with everything it has to convince him to go back to his warm bed, but he persists. There was a time in his life when he could jump out of bed and run all the way to breakfast, but that time has long since passed.

He pauses for a moment, taken aback. When did his childhood begin to feel like a lifetime ago? He swears it was only yesterday he was running through the manor halls. Glancing around him, he takes in his surroundings; the short hallway from his bedroom to the kitchen is dark, getting lighter with each passing second. He could just see their couch, with Barbara’s favorite blanket strewn across the top and the kitchen table still covered in case files from last night.

Finally, he looks to the wall in front of him, filled with pictures of his family. The single picture of his parents surrounded by the family he has found, the family he has watched grow. There are pictures of all of them, though his favorite is the newest: a group photo of him and his brothers; even Jason is there. He can’t help but smile at the memory; it was right after Duke's first solo patrol and they all had dinner at the manor to celebrate.

Dick remembers starting out, all the pressure and the fear, but he can’t be happier with how it all turned out, with what he started. He knows it was hard on them following in his footsteps, but he can’t be prouder of what they’ve accomplished. He only hopes they know that.

After another moment, and a few deep breaths, he walks the rest of the way to his kitchen. After turning on the light, the first thing he does is start the coffee machine, the smell of the roasting beans waking him up properly. As that brews, Dick carefully clears the table, making sure to keep Barbara’s work in order.

Then he walks over to the fridge and opens it slowly, taking stock of what’s inside. His usual go-to is a nice big bowl of cereal, but Barbara deserves better. After a minute, he decides his best bet is just some simple scrambled eggs and toast; even he couldn’t mess that up, again.

A few more minutes pass and just as Dick is finishing the eggs, Barbara comes into view.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Dick says when he spots her. He always has to see her to know she’s there. So many years of training ingrained stealth into her bones, even silent in her wheelchair.   

“Morning. Is that breakfast?”

“Yep! Scrambled eggs with extra cheese, just how you like it.” Dick places her coffee and plate of food on the dining room table just as she wheels into her spot, their motions fluid around each other, practiced a hundred times.

“Thanks babe,” she says, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. He got the coffee just right too. Dick kisses her quickly on the forehead in response, then turns to retrieve his own breakfast.

Though just as he is about to sit down, smoke fills the room.

“The toast!” He remembers too late. He promptly jumps to his feet as Babs begins to laugh. Acting quickly, he pulls out the toast and opens a window, just in time to stop the fire alarm from going off, again. After a few minutes of frantically waving his arms back and forth to clear the smoke, he finally sits down, now with the burnt toast in hand.

“A lot of help you were,” he says teasingly to his girlfriend, who has continued to eat her breakfast without him.

“You had it under control, you always do. Please tell me you aren’t going to eat that?” she asks when she notices Dick begin to butter the black toast.

“What? I like it burnt.” He grins. Babs just shakes her head, a fond smile appearing at her lips.

Once breakfast is finished and the plates cleaned and put away, Barbara opens her laptop and checks her messages.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Dick asks, leaning on the back of her wheelchair to see the screen.

“I don’t know. It looks like Duke is already out on patrol and he seems to have the city under control for now,” she says without looking up.

“Well then, it looks like we can have a quiet Saturday for once.”

“That sounds nice,” Barbara says longingly.

“It does. I just need to call Bruce real quick. Then I’m all yours.” Dick kisses her cheek then grabs his phone and dials.

He puts his phone next to his ear as he walks towards the window. Outside his apartment, Gotham City is slowly waking up: cars making their way to jobs, kids enjoying their day off from school. After a few more rings, he hears Bruce’s answering machine, not unexpected this early in the morning. Though by now he knows B doesn’t ever bother listening to his voicemails, so he doesn’t leave one.

Dialing a new number, he raises his phone back up to his ear. It takes less than one ring for a voice to come through.

“Grayson.”

“Morning, Damian,” Dick says cheerfully.

“Of that I am aware. What is the reason for this phone call?” Damian asks in his ever-emotionless tone.

“What? A guy can’t just call his little brother?” Dick asks playfully.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Damian retorts dryly.

“Well now that you mention it. I called Bruce, but he didn’t pick up. Did he make it back from Star City ok?”

“Father has yet to return, he must have gotten caught up in the case, goodness knows Queen probably needs the help. He will undoubtedly make contact later when he remembers to look up from the computer screen,” Damian replies, though more curtly than usual.

“Is everything ok over there?” Dick asks. Most people couldn’t tell, but Dick could hear the odd tone in his little brother’s voice.

“Everything is fine. Brown was finally able to get Drake to sleep and I am under orders not to disturb him,” Damian responds.

“That’s good. How long was he awake this time?” asks Dick, as he turns to lean against his window.

“3 days. I don’t understand how he could even function… Not that I care. If that is what it takes for him to be of use then so be it. The mission is all that matters,” he adds quickly.

“Of course, the mission, but you know he’s family too. It’s okay to worry about him,” Dick says carefully.

“I am not worried. It would be a waste of my time to feel such emotions for anyone, let alone that imbecile,” Damian snaps, though Dick ignores the tone.

“Well I’m glad you’re not worried because Tim can handle himself,”

“If that will be all?” Damian asks haughtily.

“But if Tim isn’t bothering you what is?” Dick probes.

“Nothing.”

“Damian?” he questions.

“Really, Grayson, I am fine.”

“Ok, if you say so. Hey, since Bruce is still gone, do you want to patrol together tonight? Or are you going with Jon?” Dick asks, changing the subject.

“Kent and I have no plans. If you require my assistance, I can accompany you,” Damian replies.

“Awesome, 7 sound good?” Dick offers.

“Perfectly acceptable. I will meet you in the cave then.”

“Cool, see you then,” Dick replies happily.

Damian hangs up the phone without another word.

Dick takes a deep breath. Concern for his little brother is still fresh in his mind, but he knows if something were really wrong Damian would have told him. Shaking his head, he moves from his spot at the window back to where Babs is sitting, still looking at her laptop.

“Everything ok?” she asks without looking up from the screen.

“Yah. Bruce isn’t back yet so I spoke to Damian. Apparently, Stephanie finally got Tim to sleep.”

“Ooh, how long was he awake this time?” Babs questions, finally looking up.

“3 days. Did he seem alright while you were working together last night?” Dick asks while settling on the sofa next to her wheelchair.

“No more sleep deprived than usual. I have no idea how he does that, but I’ll admit I’m kind of jealous.”

“I’m not. I can’t imagine trying to deal with both of you while you're hyped up on caffeine.” Dick shuddered at the thought. He still had a bruise from the last time it was his turn to get Tim to sleep.

“You wouldn’t stand a chance.” Barbara smirks.  “So did Damian know when Bruce is going to be back?”

“He didn’t know, if he’s not back by tonight Damian and I are going to head out for patrol around 7,” Dick responds.

“Hmm, it's not like Bruce not to call in. Maybe I should check up on him…”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Oliver would have called if something were wrong. Now come on, we have the whole day to ourselves. What do you want to do?” Dick says confidently.

“Well, there is some shopping I’ve wanted to do, and we could probably use a new toaster, one that’s a little harder to set on fire,” Barbara remarks with a grin.

“Hey!” Though just as Dick is about to protest, one look from Babs has him thinking twice. He puts his hands up in defeat. “You know what, that’s fair. And we can grab lunch while we're out, my treat.”

“Old Chuck’s Sandwich Truck?”

“You got it! I’ll grab our coats.” Dick smiles, kissing Barbara’s cheek.

The shops aren’t far from their apartment and the autumn weather hasn’t turned on them yet. The pair decide to take the opportunity and enjoy the cool day, walking leisurely to the shops.

The errands don’t take too long, just some essentials and a new toaster. Though they take their time simply enjoying each other’s company. Finally, arms full of bags, they start to make their way home.

The streets are busy but not yet filled with holiday shopping madness. Everyone is still in light jackets and shorts, no need to hide away from the cold yet. On the last turn to their apartment, they take a left instead of a right, heading toward a small nearby park. This particular park has all the best food trucks, though that has nothing to do with why he picked an apartment nearby, definitely.

Their walks were never dull, conversation always flowing easily between Dick and Barbara; from new movies to old memories, the topics never stayed the same for long. Though right now they walk in comfortable silence, no words are needed. At a crosswalk Dick glances down at Barbara with a smile, simply content to see her face, though she doesn’t notice. Her attention is taken by a bus unloading across the street; she can’t help but grin and stifle a laugh.

Across the entire left side of the bus is an ad for Wayne Enterprises, with a giant picture to Tim Drake-Wayne’s face. Dick follows her eyes and they almost miss the sign to cross, they are laughing so much. Tears in their eyes, they finish the walk to the park, still giggling to themselves.

 “Please tell me you got a photo of that,” Dick asks once they reach the park.

“Of course. Who do you think I am, Bruce?” Babs replies sarcastically.

“Can you…”

“Already sent to your phone,” Barbara answers before he can even finish his question.

“I’m gonna send it to Tim, he’ll love this.” Dick takes out his phone and sends his little brother a quick text with the photo. 

Following one last laughing fit, the pair head to a small food truck tucked in the back corner of the park, the aroma hitting them twenty feet away, and by the time they order both their stomachs are rumbling.

After placing their order, they sit down on a nearby table. It’s covered in graffiti, like everything in Gotham, but at least it looks clean and isn’t mysteriously wet. Dick doesn’t really notice though; his mind has traveled back to the bus ad with Tim’s face. He looked so grown up.

“So, Tim must be doing well at Wayne Enterprises huh?” Barbara asks, noticing the distracted look on her boyfriend’s face.

“Huh? Oh, yeah he is. It's only been a few months and productivity is up 10%,” he says, turning his full attention back to his girlfriend.

“You must be proud of him.”

“The whole family is.” And he means it: Tim is doing a great job.

“But?”

“I just hope he isn’t pushing himself too hard. There’s a reason I didn’t go into business at W.E. Our lives are busy enough with, well, you know. I couldn’t handle that kind of pressure on top of it.” 

The words came out before he could stop them, but it was nice to finally air his worries out into the world.

“But that’s what makes you two different: stress like that is where Tim shines,” Barbara says, trying to ease his concern.

 “I guess, but he still shouldn’t stay awake for days on end.”

“That’s just what he does, I don’t think anyone can change that,” Barbara points out. “Though maybe I should have tried to get him to rest last night.”

“He wouldn’t have listened; you’re right about no one being able to change him,” Dick says, and offers up a small smile.

“Except Stephanie apparently,” Barbara corrects.

“Except Steph. At this point she may be our only hope.” He smiles for real now. He’s so glad Tim has someone like her in his life.

After a few moments of content silence, the cook shouts that their order is ready. Dick gets up and retrieves their food and brings it back to the table. As the pair eats, their conversation returns to lighter things: the meal, the weather, the rules about their new toaster. The worries from their previous conversation melt away.

Once they finish, they throw away their trash and begin walking home. As they make their way back onto the street, a light rain begins to fall from above. Some passers by raise their umbrellas while others hurry indoors, but Dick and Barbara don’t even flinch. This was Gotham after all; rain was nothing. Though they both hope it stops before patrol, as rain and spandex don’t mix well.

On the final block of their walk they pass by a newsstand, still a common sight in Gotham. It’s almost like some parts of the city are frozen in time. Shifting her bags to one arm, Babs grabs a now slightly soggy paper and pays. It may be old fashioned, but some habits are harder to break. She blames her Dad for this one.

A few more feet and Dick steps up and unlocks the complex door, holding it open for Barbara to pass through. She smiles gratefully and rolls up to the elevator doors, hitting the button with her newspaper.

While waiting for the elevator she begins scanning the cover, a proud smile quickly appearing on her face. The front page headline was from last night: Batman and Robin had busted a local gang, and though some got away, most were now safely behind bars.

A moment later the elevator arrives, and they begin the slow ascent to their apartment floor.

“How’s it feel being a hero?” Barbara asks him coyly, holding up the newspaper for her boyfriend to see.

“You did all the hard work finding them,” he responds.

“Really though, how are you doing filling in for the big bad bat?” Barbara asks, becoming serious.

“It's fine. He needed my help, so I helped.” Dick shrugs.

“Really? No mixed feelings? I know you don’t want to become Batman, but you’ve really started to get good at it,” she probes.

“…Honestly? At first, I hated it, you know that. But after Bruce came back and it became a once in a while thing, it's not so bad. It’s just no matter what I do, I know I’ll never be as good as Bruce. Like last night, it should have been a piece of cake, but some of them still got away.” He looked down, guilt evident on his face.

“But you’re not Bruce and that’s ok,” Barbara reassures him.

“Is it? Part of the reason I didn’t want the cowl was because I didn’t want to know just how much better he is than me.” He sighs, shifting his bags to run a hand over his face.

“And?”

“And maybe I didn’t want him to know either, but now we both do. I just know how much I’ve already let him down, by not joining the company, by becoming a cop. I didn’t want to disappoint him in this too.”

“You aren’t. You’re doing a great job, and if I recall he didn’t start out perfectly either. You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” she insists.

“Maybe.”

“Hey, there has to be some upside to it?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“I mean, it is nice to patrol with Damian again,” he says.

“Oh yeah?”

“His fighting skills have come so far, and he actually listens to orders now and…” He can’t help the wave of pride washing over him as he talks about all of Damian’s achievements.

The elevator doors open to their floor. Realizing they could be heard, he shifts the conversation.

“…and his grades are great! All A’s. And he’s finally making friends, he and Jon have been hanging out a ton lately, I’m actually surprised he was free tonight,” he continues, careful of saying anything suspicious.

Reaching their apartment door, they make their way inside and begin putting away their groceries.

“He did sound a little odd earlier, though he may just have been worried about Tim,” Dick remembers.

“Really, I thought they still weren’t getting along?” Barbara asks, a bit surprised.

“They aren’t really, but I know Damian cares. I should probably bring it up on patrol tonight just to be safe. I need to make sure he knows he can tell me stuff too, especially if Tim isn’t,” Dick answers, his tone going serious again.

“I’m sure Tim will come around.”

“Hopefully. Maybe I should speak to him tonight too, though I doubt Alfred will let him out on patrol.”

“If you want to stay there tonight that’s ok with me. I can do my work from here. You spend some time with your brothers,” she offers with a reassuring smile.

“Thanks babe. I think I will,” Dick kisses Barbara’s forehead in thanks. He’s so grateful for her sometimes; she always knows what to say.

“Well, we’ve got a little time before you have to head out, want to watch a movie?” she asks, hoping to distract him for a little bit.

“Sure. Why don’t you pick while I finish putting the groceries away,” he responds as he picks up another bag and begins to put its contents away.

“Perfect.” She begins turning toward the couch half way there when she adds, “And don’t even think of touching the new toaster.”

He glances to the kitchen counter where it still sits in a plastic bag, deciding that’s probably a good idea and leaves it where it is.

Once he’s done putting away the rest of the groceries, Dick walks over to the couch, shrugging off his jacket as he goes. On the TV screen the first Avengers movie is just starting to play.

“Oh Avengers, you know I love me some good Steve Rogers,” Dick says. Barbara playfully punches his arm when he comes into range, then loops hers around his neck.

“Well you’re in luck, there’s a whole marathon on.”

In an instant he picks her up and settles them both down on the couch. Raising one arm behind his head he grabs Barbara’s blanket and throws it over them both, content to spend the next few hours by her side.

Towards the end of the movie, right as Tony flies into the wormhole to save the day, a news briefing flashes interrupts the scene.

 “Good evening Gotham my name is Vicky Vale here with breaking news. This just in Gotham’s newest hero The Signal has stopped a bank robbery at Gotham National. Video shows him handing over several would be thieves to GCPD officers waiting outside. More at 6 on WWTN!”

The screen cuts back to the movie just as the Avengers decide to go out for shawarma.

“Wow look at Duke! Looks like Damian isn’t the only one finding his place,” Barbara comments.

“He’s a natural alright. He’s been here less than a year and he’s already going solo,” Dick replies.

“Well his powers can’t hurt,” she adds.

“He doesn’t need them, he does it all on his own,” Dick says confidently.

“You sound impressed,” Babs says.

“I am, no way I was doing that stuff year 1.”

“You were only 10 at the time,” she recalls.

“Still, he’s caught on so fast. I’m just glad he took the daytime route, or I might be out of a job. But in all seriousness, he really is doing great, even Bruce is surprised. And not just on the streets, he’s found his place in the family too. Even Damian likes him.”

“Wow, that’s high praise from him,” Babs says, surprised.

“It is, and I’ll admit, I wasn’t too sure at first. I didn’t see what Bruce did, but I’m glad I was wrong. He’s just the change this family needed after the past few years,” Dick says with a smile.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Barbara concurs. “Well we may have missed the end of the movie, but another is on after this. While we wait, can I trust you to make popcorn?”

“Hey, popcorn is my specialty,” he says sarcastically, and kisses her head as he gets up.

While walking to the kitchen, an alert on his phone grabs his attention. Looking down, a message from Jason fills the screen.

“I’m heading out early, got a tip about an arms deal down by the docks. Anybody else want in?”

Wow, Jason really has come a long way if he’s asking for backup. Well, not so much asking, but it's probably as close as they’ll ever get from him. He hasn’t exactly needed them lately, which is fine. Jason is his own man now, but that doesn’t mean Dick doesn’t miss spending time with him.

Jason’s death had really changed Dick, made him reevaluate what mattered to him, and now that’s Jason’s back he hopes his little brother knows he’s on that list. Though he’s sure Jason definitely has other priorities; he has his own mission now after all.

A lot of other heroes in the community think of Jason as a black sheep, but Dick never has. If anything, it's always impressed him how dedicated he is to his cause. At first, he was jealous of this new kid taking over his spot, but as time went on, he saw how much the boy had earned it.  

Ever since Jason joined the family, he’s had a plan, and even now, after everything, he still knows what he needs to do. In some ways, he may even be more dedicated than Tim, giving up everything he had to fight his own way.

Dick can admit there was a time, a long time, when that was all he wanted. Now look at him, playing Batman while Bruce is off saving the world or whatever he’s doing this week. Maybe somewhere deep-down, Dick still is jealous of Jason.

“Dick, are you burning the popcorn?” Babs shouts from the living room.

“What? No, of course not.” Barbara’s call snaps Dick back to reality just in time to salvage their food.

He quickly grabs a bowl from a cabinet and pours the only slightly black popcorn inside. After adding enough butter to make Alfred wince, he heads back to the living room.

“Everything ok?” she asks, seeing his face.

“Jason texted, he’s heading out early to a bust, and wanted to know if anyone would like to join him.”

“Why don’t you join him? You probably have just enough time to go get Damian and meet him there.”

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes, I do. You’ve been feeling like your brothers aren’t confiding in you anymore, maybe spending some time with them will help. All of them.”

“You’re right, I just don’t want to make things worse.”

“You won’t. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want you there.”

“Alright I’ll go. Sorry it looks like you’re going to have to eat all this popcorn without me.”

Barbara looks down at the slightly burned kernels. “That’s too bad,” she says sarcastically.

Dick turns around and begins making his may to their hidden compartment filled with gear. He reaches for his phone to respond when it beeps again.

“Oh, maybe he changed his mind,” Dick mumbles to himself, as he looks at the device, but spread across the screen is a message he never wants to see.

Emergency: Code Red!

“Oh no…”

[iphoenixrising]

Merry Christmas, Timmy

hi babes. For those of you that don’t celebrate, I still hope you are wonderful wherever you are. Kiddo was with her dad last night, so I was all by myself, got a little sad, and thought of this little thing for the holidays. I’ve done angsty ones before (like this one), but I won’t break your heart with it <3

**

And the softly falling snow flutters around Gotham, painting the city in a semblance of joy. Christmas lights on buildings and store fronts, a decorated tree in Robinson Square, all signals the city is feeling the good cheer.

Christmas Eve and all is calm. 

Except for the vigilante standing at the top of the Wallstone Apartments, grapple in one hand, planning his next jump while the snow piles on his shoulders, and the glinting lights sparkle off his harness in the night.

The muted comm in his ear is silent, no witty banter back-and-forth or calm, cool orders, no sounds of flying over the skyline or fights breaking out against the criminals. It’s as quiet as the city itself. 

He hadn’t expected any different, knowing the patrol roster would be empty. The Bats would be at the Manor for hours already, eating and celebrating the holiday, taking a well-deserved night off unless something awful happened, and major crime took them away from the warmth and laughter.

And even if he isn’t part of it all anymore, not since he’d brought back the OG Batman from time, even if he didn’t wear the R in front of his heart like a brand, even if he’d been gone long enough to get the point, that maybe he’d only been the stand-in all along, Red Robin is still determined to keep moving and make damn sure there would be no reason to disturb their family gathering tonight.

The pain in his chest at being the last one left standing had waned in the last year, enough that he could be in the city without it being such fucking agony. It’s easier to stand at his old haunt with nostalgia dogging his steps, looking out for the same hidden niches and fire escapes sturdy enough to hold his weight. It’s easier to stay out of the way when he’s back, to run Wayne Enterprises without getting in Bruce’s sight, to patrol the outskirts and gaps away from the family, to keep his comm on mute, to keep his penthouse Perch his main haven instead of coming back to the Cave or the Manor or the Bunker and pushing himself into their lives where he probably never should have been in the first place. 

It’s easier...for everyone.

It’s easier not to make waves but to just bow out gracefully and work on the backend instead. So, yesterday, he’d bid his teammates at Titan’s Tower good-bye as they all left to go to their families for Christmas, and he boarded a plane back to Gotham with every intention of keeping the city safe while the protectors got their time to celebrate.

And the crisp, cold air is hard on his lungs after thwarting the first of three escape attempts from Arkham, bruised to the bone from some pretty good fights along the way. A few hours before dawn and he could go back to his Perch, check his injuries from the last tussle with his team to make sure he isn’t approaching an infection, and pass out for the first time in over sixty hours.

Renee Montoya, as it happens, is also on patrol, and flags him down with a full cup of coffee, grinning at his whiteouts, pulling the collar of her jacket up while they talk about the few B&Es he’d already hit. 

A swing to the soup kitchen and further to the homeless shelter. Skimming along the roof of the crooked pawn shop in the Narrows and down to the usual hangout for a few of the lesser gangs, flaring the cape out to be obvious, sending the message someone is out tonight, and a beating might not be the best present for the morning. 

An alarm raised at Blackgate, and he’s riding the Ducati at breakneck speed, jaw tight against the bitter cold, ignoring the numbing in his legs and fingers. 

It’s no shock someone as smart as Falcone would have his minions try to bust him out when the guard duty is light for the holidays. 

He shoves one out of the way of a hail of bullets, his armor taking most of the damage, and his thigh taking another in a bout of stupidly bad luck. He brings them down fast enough to keep the fighting to a minimum and as many guards safe as possible. 

He stays long enough to zip tie the cranky ones, waits for the red and blue lights, the scream of sirens signalling back-up is on the way.

The ride back to town is hazy because he didn’t get the tourniquet on fast enough and blood paints a nasty wreath-like shape in the snow.

The Ducati coasts to a shadowy alleyway a few block from his Perch, and he falls off, drags himself behind a dumpster for a breather. Midnight chimes across the city, a Merry Christmas to go with his blood loss.

And when he’s finally caught his breath enough to stand with the whitehot pain in the meat of his thigh starting to be a problem, his ear cracks to life, hazy in his brainpan.

“Can’t trace him. He doesn’t have trackers in his suit.” “What the fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout, O?” “We will absolutely address that later, Hood. For now, we have priorities.”

He laughs off his insane imagination and manages to get to his feet. He hobbles to the Ducati, pushes it behind the dumpster, out of sight, and makes a note to get it in the morning.

The grapple is slippery in his hand, and he fumbles a little on the way up, not realizing it’s because his glove is bloody and not conducive to any kind of a good grip. No running this time, just hobbling his way two rooftops over and he’s home free.

Wavery, he doesn’t fall when Nightwing and the Red Hood land it on either side of him, but damn if it isn’t a close thing.

“Finally!” “Fer fuck’s sake, Red. Ya couldn’ta bother callin’ er some shit?”

Which throws him for an important second because what the hell are they even doing out?

The step away is automatic, stepping back from the vigilantes that, in their own ways, tried to kill him. Jason, at least, didn’t try to hide the intent.

Slowly, N raises a hand, “easy, Red. It’s okay now, we’re–” “Go home,” is all he can think to say. “Go back to your family. I’ve already taken care of the city tonight.” And turns his back on them both with copper in his mouth and the pain in his chest more acute than the one throbbing in his leg.

But the tall, imposing shadow right behind him manages to stop his thought processes because of all things, he sure as hell didn’t expect this.

“The guard at Blackgate reported you could have been hit,” Robin takes a step away from Batman’s side, a hand flying out to sweep the cape back, the reinforced tights stained even in the dim. “It seems he was correct.”

Penned in on all sides, B and Robin, N and Hood, all of them closing in on him.

“Is the bullet still in?” Hand on his shoulder and fuck is it familiar. “Why the hell didn’t cha call fer back-up?!” “We need to get him home. Now.” “Do not strain it, Drake. It may have hit an artery.”

Pulling out of Batman’s hold is not something he can remember doing before tonight, and it’s easier said than done. The hand tightens down for a second before Red makes another try, lunging back to keep them all in his sight.

The vigilantes around him go quiet, all those whiteouts fixed.

“Go home. I came out tonight so the Bats could enjoy Christmas. Arkham’s been secured and so has Blackgate.” He grips his thigh, tightens his hand so the pain helps clear his head a little.

Hood holds up both hand, palms out in the I come in peace that really has no place between them. 

(Really, what’s a slit throat and bat-a-rang in the chest between enemies?)

And Nightwing still has a hand out toward him, takes a careful, easy step. But the Batman? He gives absolute no fucks about what his middle son is spewing, just strides up, moves fast and furious enough to have Red Robin up in his arms, tight against the yellow insignia on his chest, turns in a flare of cape, and dives off the roof.

“What the fuck–?!”

The Batmobile slides open silently, and B falls right in the driver’s seat without a ruffle, slams the button to start the massive engine, an arm around Red’s to keep the younger vigilante against his chest, in his lap, held securely. Robin lifts the legs off his seat and joins them.

The Dynamic Duo ignore the pointed, “wait!” as the hatch slides back in place and the car takes off down the silent, snowy street.

Robin reaches to adjust the tourniquet, a quiet, “hold your breath, this shall not be...pleasant.”

B’s hand moves to grip his shoulder while the other pilots the big car, pulling Red Robin deeper into his body, trying to shield him in some crazy way that seems too much, too fucking much, to be real.

The adjustment takes him by surprise, the abruptness of it, of them, of this, taking him completely–

out.

Which is how the Batman leaps out of the Batmobile, with Tim limp and loose in his arms, Damian following on his heels with quicker steps.

“My word,” Alfred turns away from setting up coffee, a hopeful gesture for Master Tim’s sake. 

“That’s not what I hoped for,” Stephanie is out of the computer chair in a heartbeat, her ugly Christmas sweater still lighting up since Dick and Jay said there wouldn’t be a need for anyone else to suit up tonight. She and Cass elected to stay behind and keep Alfred company while they boys went to collect their wayward Robin. 

Cass moves silently past, already throwing the screen back to the medical bay, her eyes narrowed on the swaying arm and tights darkened with blood.

The echo of Ducatis hits as Alfred scrubs his hands, gloves up, and Steph helps Bruce maneuver around the traps in Tim’s suit. 

It’s all hands on deck with Cass and Dami helping to ready supplies, stripping off pieces of the suit when they can. 

Dick tosses his gloves and gauntlets the minute they throw themselves off the bikes, Jay dropping the helmet at his workstation on the way. 

By the computer, Barbara keeps searching, her likewise ugly Christmas sweater a tacky Riddler dancing with the tastefully done rhyme: Jingle Bells, Batman smells! Robin laid an egg. The Batmobile lost it’s wheel is absolutely perfect for the night.  

Until she digs around to see what Red Robin has been in to since his plane hit Gotham, then goes a little further to see what’s been on the Titan’s roster the last few weeks.

The report is grim, and she gives it with a hard tone as Duke comes into the medical bay with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, frowning over bullet fragments pinging in a metal tray.

“By his damn self?” Because Jay feels it bares repeating. “By himself,” Barbara confirms, wheeling cautiously around to reach through the bodies and squeeze the unmoving hand. 

The bruises and contusions make the point, drive home some very hard to believe things as the Bats take him in to the skin. The new scars aren’t in his medical report, and B shoves back the cowl, eyes moving to memorize each one, already planning how he’s going to ease Tim in to talking about them all.

Dick runs a bare hand through Tim’s hair while Jay puts in an IV, Damian grips a bare ankle, his expression grim. Cass winds an arm around Steph’s waist to ground her, watches her best friend blink back tears and hold a hand to her mouth in disbelief. Duke stands with arms folded over his chest, looks for any indication he can jump in and help.

In a few hours, everyone is in pajamas, in various stages of passed out around the couch when Tim comes to slowly, strangely warm for being out in the middle of Gotham on Christmas Eve.

(What the fuck?)

He catches his breath when the ceiling above is one he recognizes all too painfully. He doesn’t even get the chance to move to sit up, to try maneuvering around all the bodies splayed in his favorite sitting room in Wayne Manor because Bruce is someone with an instinct that flares when one of his Robins is obviously in need. 

He’s awake, completely alert before Tim’s hand moves the blanket off enough to try getting free over the back of the couch and out.

“Thank God,” and Bruce’s expression is so awfully, terribly relieved, Tim has to look away or be reduced to that teenage kid, shoving himself in their lives trying to save this man from himself. 

And since, well Batman, Bruce is up on the couch just that fast, holding Tim in his lap, against his chest, rocking him gently back and forth, arms tight. 

“I’ve been so worried about you,” breathed against his too long hair, “when you wouldn’t come home, wouldn’t come back. I thought...it doesn’t matter what I thought, but you’re home and we’re going to take care of you.”

“N-no, I can’t...I shouldn’t be here. I– you should have let me go, I don’t...I’m not–” but his voice wavers when those arms lock down, keep him from wiggling away.

“Yes, yes, you should be here. Right here with us where you belong. No more running, Tim. I’m not letting you go back to Titan’s Tower until you tell me everything. We’re going to solve cases and update your files and talk about what a pain in your ass the team is. We’re going to go to WE together next time and text each other in board meetings to keep from falling asleep. You’re going to patrol with me and Dick and Damian until you remember this is your home too.”

And Bruce only lets up enough to pull the blanket up to Tim’s shoulders, rocks them both gently while his other children sleep on.

“Bruce,” is watery and lost, is so many things that make his heart ache painfully. 

“I know, well, at least some of it,” he huffs against the top of his son’s messy bedhead, “but this? You coming back? This is my Christmas Miracle, Tim.” 

A big hand loosens enough to rub soothing circles on his back, feeling the tremble that go through Tim’s body that has nothing to do with the hole in his leg. But it’s fine because he’ll sit here all day and into the night, just like this if he needs to, will keep his middle son in place if it keeps Tim from running back to the Titans, to give him the evidence he needs to see. 

(How much they need him.)

He holds on and soothes while the tree in front of him blinks brightly and the presents below wait for the excitement of his sleeping kids to wake up and rip them open. And strewn around the base, packages and packages marked Tim and Timmy and Drake and Pain in the ass and Boy Wonder and Master Tim all from the last two years without their third Robin are waiting to be piled up in his lap and spill out on the couch beside him. Are waiting for him as patiently as all the sleeping bodies have been. Waiting for him to come home, waiting for him to finally, finally come back.

By the time Alfred comes in with a tray of coffee, hoping to see their missing member awake without trying to leave, Tim is laying exhausted against Bruce’s chest, the two talking softly.

“I just...I–” “I know, kiddo, I’m sorry you ever thought that.” “B...” “It’s okay. We’ll work it out, we’ll work together to make it better for you. Don’t give up on me, Tim.” “Like that’s ever going to happen? The rest of the world thought you were dead, you know.”

Seeing the look on Master Tim’s face when he takes the first sip of coffee is intensely gratifying, watching him devour the omelette (tomatoes and spinach, still his favorite of course) before Alfred’s other charges are awake sets a bit of starch in his spine because the young man is woefully under weight. Another omelette is certainly in order.

Dick barely blinks his eyes open before he’s latching on to his little brother with his own octopus hold engaged, and refuses to relinquish the bird while the others start waking up to gather around him. 

Tears are shed and the hugs are so tight, laughter following on the edges. Gifts are piled and the attention is set on him as he slowly opens them, blinking back so his eyes don’t spill over.

And he gets to have this warmth in the niche of Dick’s lap with hands desperately holding on, grounding him here in the Manor instead of in the silent Tower or his empty Perch. 

He gets Dami gingerly handing him a wrapped package that’s a book of sketches, him in his red and black, him with a grin and domino, him with an arm around Kon and Bart, him and Dick on patrol, him and B walking to the open Batmobile, ready to take on the night. He gets a serious lecture on the statistics of sepsis and a finger wagging in his face that Dami will not tolerate his family being in such danger, Drake, and yes, that includes you.

He gets Steph holding his hand too tight, her eyes watery and lower lip trembling with whatever she’d seen while he was riding the unconscious train, and Cass rubbing his scalp with her free hand and smiling that same gentle smile from that time she came for him in the fight against Ra’s crazy ass sister.

He gets Jason Todd putting a fresh cup of coffee in his hand and a soft half-smile that seems to tell a story he’d never thought he’d live long enough to hear, and Babs treating him the same as always, going on about the new Ransomware she’d planted in Lonnie’s systems just for a hoot.

He gets to low-five Duke when the guy helps get some of the intense attention away, steering most of them back to the tree to help hand out gifts and get spots cleared so Alfred can bring in food with Jay helping so the butler can catch a seat and accept brightly wrapped packages. 

And the day moves into afternoon, terrible Hallmark Christmas movies turn into awful 80′s action movies with Christmas themes (Jason making fun of Lethal Weapon is literally the best thing he’s ever seen), and it’s strange to see someone waiting for him in the hall anytime he’s had to use the bathroom, or hobbles upstairs to change clothes.

(He never suspected he’d still have a room, a place, a workstation, a set of clothes that fit. Never suspected any of this to be waiting, thought these days were long gone and acceptance was the road better taken.)

A chorus of hell no’s! and Dick literally wrapping him up in a stifling hold keeps him in for the night when he follows in the back of the group down to the Cave and picks up his suit, assesses the damage briefly but starts to wrap his wrists anyhow.

Jason is the one to take the tape out of his hand around Dick’s crushing denial, and another finger wagging in his face with some nu-uh Timmers. That shit ain’t gonna happen, feel me? on the side.

Alfred caps it all off, mildly remarking how Master Tim would absolutely be able to work comms in their absence since someone of the household would need to clean-up the mess upstairs since he apparently isn’t getting any younger.

So he finds himself plunked down in the chair by the big computer, O grinning next to him on her laptop, warming up her system to plug into the criminal side of Gotham and get their night started right.

And this chain of events might not be what he imaged a few hours, a few days, a few weeks ago when memories of the Manor hit him in his roughest moments, gave him a bit of strength to keep moving, but it may just be the evidence he needs to also believe in Christmas miracles.

[gothambydaylight]

home

//OOC it’s called home for lack of a better title, but oh well, you win some, you lose some. have a fic explaining why duke’s been off tumblr recently!

Duke shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning against the train’s wall. There was no one else on the train, but his legs ached for activity when he sat, so he stood.

Tim was gone. Duke didn’t know how to feel about that. He wanted to encourage it, he wanted to let Tim escape and heal and let the drama die down, but… 

He looked up, staring through the windows. Duke had known and loved Gotham City all his life. Even through the supervillain attacks, even through losing his parents, even though the other cities seemed so much safer and friendlier, Gotham was his home. 

Pushing himself off the wall, he walked over to the window, careful not to lose his balance. The sun was still high in the sky, and light still drifted into the train. Duke let it warm his face for a moment before turning away, blinking rapidly.

He didn’t understand how Tim could leave Gotham. Maybe it was a rich kid thing, where you don’t grow attached to how little weeds sprouted in the cracks of the cobblestone in narrow alleyways. It would only be for a little while, Tim told him, but Duke would lose himself if he left.

And Steph wasn’t leaving, but it felt like she was. Duke chewed the inside of his cheek, remembering how Steph had blown up at everybody, how Tim and Steph had blown up at each other. Cass hadn’t said anything on the group chat for a while, Barbara shut down, Jason was dealing with his own problems, and Tim and Steph were still fighting.

He joined this family less than a year ago, and already it felt like it was falling apart.

                                                          *

His phone buzzed as he walked in, but Duke turned it off. He glanced at the warden with wide eyes. 

“Hey, kid,” the warden said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Hell of a time to be visiting your parents, huh?”

Duke tried to smile back at the warden, but his smile kept faltering. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Can—can you just take me to them, please? Not having the best day.”

The warden scrutinized him, glancing up then down. “You sure this is what you need then?”

Duke swallowed bile and nodded. 

“...Okay.”

He flinched at the sounds of giggling coming from every bed, but it evolved into a full-body wince once he saw his parents.

They wore permanent grins, saliva dripping down their cheeks because they couldn’t close their damn mouths to stop snorting for just a few seconds. This was what it was like every time he visited.

“Mom?” Duke called softly. “Dad? It’s me, Duke. I’m here.”

His dad latched onto his shoulder, his eyes red and veiny, still laughing to himself. Instinctively, Duke threw his hand off. It was easier than he’d thought—his dad had lost even more weight. 

While his mom’s laugh grew into a full out cackle, his dad collapsed onto the floor. Duke sucked in a breath and dropped down as well, looking to lift his dad up. “Please, Dad,” he murmured. “C’mon, Dad, you gotta get up. Get on the bed.”

The only response he got was chuckles.

Duke took on the responsibility of heaving his dad up himself. He dragged his dad up and plopped him down on the bed, promptly slumping down on the chair across from him. 

He closed his eyes, breathing in and out, accompanied by that dreadful laughter that made his insides seize up. 

They’d been like this for months, and even from the very beginning, doctors speculated that heavy exposure to this strain of Joker gas would cause permanent damage. They weren’t getting better. 

Duke crumpled in on himself, holding his head in his hands. His parents were lost. His new family was falling apart. He glanced at his parents, still snorting themselves silly. 

He ran. Past the warden’s pitying face, out the doors, and away.

He missed the train. Duke took a shaky breath. He could get back to the manor by foot, he knew the way.

The sun lowered with every passing second, and as consequence, the light slipped away. Duke squinted and let his photokinetic vision—which is what Bruce called it, he was still trying to think of a better one—take over. He counted the light particles to ground himself. 

And just because, Duke played around with his vision, his ability to see where light was and will be. 

A woman stumbled into the alleyway beside him, pushed by a gruff-looking older white man. Duke’s eyes narrowed.

He turned around and punched the guy, letting out a hiss of pain when the guy’s muscles turned out to be rock hard. Shit. 

Duke made eye contact with the lady and jerked his head in the opposite direction as the guy growled and lifted him without breaking a sweat. “Run!” he commanded. 

Okay, okay, what would Bruce tell me to do? Duke asked himself, now staring into the bulging eyes of a man who could snap him in half. 

He kicked, aiming for a cheap shot. 

It worked, with the huge guy dropping him. However, getting dropped onto gravel hurt, and why the hell had he decided to wear short sleeves today. 

The guy was still doubled over in pain. Duke glanced at him and the woman who was running away slowly in heels, at the distance between them. And he thought of going back to the manor, the one that almost started feeling like home but now felt like a death sentence in a game of tug-of-war. 

Duke punched the guy’s nose.

                                                          *

“Hey Riko, what’s up?” one Isabella Ortiz asked, lounging on a chair and holding her phone to her ear.

“Have you heard from Duke?”

Izzy scoffed. “What, you think ‘cause we were a thing for a couple weeks I have trackers on him?”

“No,” Riko said, worry pervading her tone. “No, I mean I haven’t heard from him since, um. Yesterday, I think. And I checked his Tumblr,”—Izzy still thought Tumblr was a dumb idea; the Waynes coming together whether online or physically always seemed to be a dumb idea—“and the last thing he posted was about going to see his parents. At the psychiatric ward.”

Izzy’s eyebrow creased as she recalled Duke coming to her about his parents the first time, frustrated and upset. He usually only visited twice a month, and stayed in a funk for a little while afterwards. She was planning to go with him next week, for moral support.

He visited early?

“Check the other Tumblrs,” Izzy said, sitting straight up. “I think something’s wrong.”

“I know something’s wrong!” Riko exclaimed. “I just have a really bad feeling about all of this.”

Izzy stood, throwing on a cap and hoodie. She decided on her Robin cap, just in case. “Tell me on the way. I’m gonna head over there, try to find him and talk to him.”

She heard sounds of frantic typing from Riko’s end and adjusted her cap. 

If Duke was hurt by them, Izzy would willingly beat the shit out of all those goddamned Waynes. 

                                                          *

Duke leaned against a wall, gingerly touching his freshly swollen black eye. Yeah, okay, maybe he told Tim he could take on a couple punks from West Robinson, but for whatever reason, these guys were out in packs. They were sneaking out, and Duke saw them, and he laughed to himself and shouted at them, and… yeah, it didn’t go well.

He panted, the adrenaline making his head spin. He closed his eyes and let the coolness of the dark calm him. 

This was fine, this was fine, he would be back at the manor in no time at all.

“Hey!”

Duke clenched his bruised fists and, with another sharp intake of breath, slung them at—

Air. Air that happened to have Izzy beside it. 

Oh, shit.

He tried to grin at Izzy, but the pain from his split lip flared up. “...Uh,” was all he managed to get out.

Izzy’s eyes were wide, taking him in. “Duke Thomas, you’re a fucking idiot,” she said finally in deadpan tone. Her expression and the way she reached down to keep him steady betrayed her true feelings.

“I was heading home already,” Duke protested. Izzy hoisted his arm on her shoulders and they walked together.

“Yeah?” Izzy asked. “And how’s that working out for you? Remember the day we met, when you got yourself into trouble with people looking to blow up the city hall? And you got in a fight with Smiley,”—Duke shuddered at the nickname, a flash of a blood red permanent grin stuck in his mind—“because of your punk cologne?”

Duke blinked. “I wasn’t in a good mental state then,” he said. “And there were so many more fights before that you don’t know about.” 

Izzy flicked his forehead. “That’s my point, dumbass. You go looking for fights so you don’t have to focus on yourself. Even when you were looking for your parents, you were distracting yourself with them. So what’s up? Riko told me about what’s going on with your family, but what about you?”

Footsteps rapidly approached them and a small figure jumped right by Duke’s side, lifting his other arm to be supported with her shoulder. Riko.

“Izzy stopped answering me when she said she was around here, so I figured that’s where you were,” she explained. “What’s up, Duke?”

Duke’s breath hitched. “It’s nothing, guys, really.”

“I call bullshit,” they both chimed at the same time. 

“I’m serious! It’s Tim’s and Steph’s argument, not mine.” Duke’s gaze drifted down. “And even then, Barbara and Cass and Jason? They’re having problems, too. Me? I’m the new kid. I’m not as invested as everyone else. Tim had to send me a PowerPoint so I would understand.”

Riko snickered. “You’re so soft, Duke.”

“Huh?”

“She means,” Izzy said, dragging them both to the side when they veered dangerously towards the road, “that you have a bleeding heart. You don’t like to show it, but you do. You gotta recognize that. Anyways, my bike is parked somewhere around here, we can get you home.”

Duke saw a weed, a small dandelion, sprouting out from a crack in the sidewalk. Gotham was dark and hazy and the sun was long gone, but it managed to continue sticking around. 

He stepped on it. 

“Not my home,” he muttered. 

He could feel Izzy’s eye roll. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

                                                          *

Upon arriving at the manor, Duke pointedly ignored Tim’s bedroom and Steph’s guest room, instead taking the long route to his room, sent out a Tumblr post, and collapsed. He was tired, and these bruises were gonna hurt like hell come morning. Maybe if he just slept through the entire next day, the bruises would fade.

And sleep through the day he did.

                                                          *

//OOC (and then once he woke up and checked tumblr again, he had a panic attack primarily caused by steph’s panic attack but also. Everything Else. this may have seemed like a not angsty ending but damnit i’m not done with duke angst yet)

[itsbxtgirl-a]

that’s my girl // stephbabs

WHO: Barbara Gordon & Stephanie Brown. Mentions of Tim Drake and Ra’s al Ghul.

WORD COUNT: 2171 words.

LOCATION: Wayne Manor.

GENERAL NOTES: Babs comes to visit Stephanie post her return to Gotham. Stephanie is unsure of her footing and what to do next, how to go on. A spark of an idea and a change is made. 

WARNINGS: Mentions of injuries, past trauma, violence.

STEPH: Tim's room was practically silent, Steph staring at the cracked screen of her phone she had found in Tim's room. Occasionally it lit up, Steph staring until it went dark once more. The lockscreen made her heart clench each time she saw the photo of her pressed against Tim's chest, his arm around her and smiles on their faces. She felt numb to the tears that slid down her cheeks and dried there, making the bandage across the gash on her cheek damp. Ra's' personal reminder of Tim she'd now have for the rest of her life. The reminder she was the reason Tim was sent to his doom, his death in her eyes.

A choked out sob escaped the shaking blonde, her curling up in on herself as much as she could without her ribs and shoulder screaming in protest. The sharp knock on Tim's bedroom door had her wanting to just scream out. "Go away!" She shouted. "I'm not hungry, thirsty, nor do I want to see anyone! Just leave!" Her words were punctuated with a broken sob, burying her face in Tim's pillow and giving into the urge to scream until she couldn't anymore.

Every bit of her was cracked into a thousand pieces and Steph had no idea how she was going to put them back together anytime soon.

BABS: The shout cut harshly even through the door, and Barbara almost considered listening. She could remember that feeling, wanting to crawl out of her own skin, never wanting anyone to look at her again. She still felt it sometimes. There was a reason she spent the majority of her life tucked away in her clock tower, surrounded by firewalls both electronic and physical. There were very few who could slip past them so easily, and Steph was one of them.

Steph who was on the other side of the door sobbing, her own firewall in place. Barbara pushed through, because Steph was stubborn and determined and positive and had steadfastly broken through every one of Barbara's walls, and there was no way she'd leave her alone. Even if that meant leaving her tower, even if it meant coming to Wayne Manor. Sometimes walls were meant to be pushed down.

She pressed the door shut quietly behind her and wheeled up next to the bed. Touch wasn't right, not unless Stephanie expressly wanted it, but she was close. "You know, I'd listen, but a while ago I made a promise to you that you'd never be alone. That's not just on the streets, Steph. I'm here."

STEPH: The door opened and Steph curled her fingers up into the fabric of the sheet on Tim’s bed. Then it shut. Another scream started to form in her chest, heart thumping and the hurricane of emotions she couldn’t pick apart started to grow until she heard that familiar voice.

Babs. Original Batgirl, her mentor and one of the people she trusted the most. Would she think she’s weak too? That she should have been better? The thought made her choke back a sob.

“It’s my fault.” Steph finally whispered, back towards Babs as she laid there. “I didn’t—I didn’t even get to see him. He wouldn’t let me see him. I killed him. I sent him off to his death at the hands of his worst nightmare all because I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t careful.” She was spiraling now, breath hiccuping as the tears rolled down her cheeks once more.

BABS: "Hey, hey." Barbara finally reached out, one hand resting on Steph's shaking shoulder. She couldn't see her face (maybe that was intentional), but she could hear the pain in every hiccup, in the way her words started to tumble.

She thought of rooftops and soft voices through the comms, the first time someone slipped through Stephanie's fingers. That sinking feeling that nothing will ever make better, and how this was worse. This wasn't some nameless loss, this was Tim.

"You are not responsible for the actions of evil men. There is one person responsible for this, and it's not you. Blaming yourself is like..." Blaming herself for opening the door. The thought caught, and she let it slip away, sinking somewhere deep and heavy in her chest. "You did everything you could, if I know you at all. Tell me you didn't get a few good zings in."

Another pause, "And you know we'll find him. I won't rest until we know where he is."

STEPH: Steph could hear Babs' words, make sense of them and comprehend them, but she didn't believe them. There was a reason she had stepped back from Batgirl, feeling a crippling dread that she would never measure up to Babs herself. This just proved it in her mind, she got the love of her life sent off to his worst nightmare all because she was the worst bat of them all.

A shudder wracked through the blonde and she sobbed weakly, finally turning to look at Babs head on. The bandage covered the majority of her cheek, left eye swollen still and purple and black bruises covered the pale skin there. "It doesn't matter, does it? I still lost. He didn't...he didn't even let me see him. I didn't even get to tell him I was sorry." She gasped out, feeling like her chest was moments away from caving in on itself.

"Ra's—" Even saying his name turned Steph's stomach and she paled considerably, shaking her head and going silent instead of finishing her thought. "...I killed him, Babs. He chose to save me. I'm not worth that."

BABS: "Don't you ever, ever say you are not worth it. Steph–" Barbara moved her hand to cup Stephanie's cheek, running a thumb gently to wipe away the tears. Gentle for bruises and cuts and injustices. "Look at me. You are worth more than you will ever know."

Stephanie had shown up in Barbara's life during a time in which she thought she'd never be happy again. Not truly, not easily. She'd tucked herself away so completely, both physically and emotionally, even her doctor was beginning to question why she never smiled. It took time, but Stephanie changed all of that. Stephanie with her quips and determination and bright smiles even the face of overwhelming odds. Stephanie who plowed through Barbara's warnings and walls.

She was worth it. And clearly Tim Drake thought so as well.

"Ra's is vile, and he will not get away with this." Her voice cut, no room for argument. "He's the one to blame. You did not make him take you, you did not make him take Tim, you have nothing to apologize for. The only one who benefits from you blaming yourself is him. Don't let him make you doubt yourself."

STEPH: Steph's eyes reluctantly shifted over to look at Babs' face, heart dropping. Her eyes fluttered shut weakly at the touch to her cheek and she let out a weak sob. This was Babs, the one who she strived so hard to be good for. To impress and make proud. Her doubt and fears in herself made her step away from the Batgirl mantle she had been so attached to. She saw the good in her even when Steph didn't see it herself. So why was she having such a hard time believing her in saying she was worth it.

"I don't know what else to do, Babs." Steph whispered weakly. The dark cloud that hung over her head seemed to infect every crevice and corner of Tim's room, it was saturated in her devastation. "I'm hanging up the suit. I can't be Spoiler anymore. It's...it's tainted now. All I can think of when I even try to think of going out again is how I let Tim down." Maybe next time you'll be more careful. Maybe next time you'll be more careful. Maybe next time—

The tears wouldn't stop. She didn't know how to make them stop, rolling down her cheeks and her breath hitching with each staggering breath. "I don't know what to do anymore."

BABS: Barbara paused, running a hand along the top of her thigh. She couldn't feel it, she hadn't been able to feel it in a long time. It was the getting back up that had been the hardest part. It wasn't that she'd failed, but the road ahead had looked like one failure after another. There were no next steps, there was only a suit on a rack she'd never wear again. But she got up. If only to prove him wrong.

"Do you remember the first time someone slipped from your grasp?" Barbara could. Curse her perfect memory, she could hear it. Stephanie's broken 'no,' and the quiet defeat when she said she was done. Her first loss, and Batgirl was back on a shelf. "You wanted to quit then, too. Being a hero just wasn't for you. But you got back up, Stephanie. You got back up, and you went on to take down the person actually responsible."

Her hand stilled, moving from her lap to the hand rim of her chair in a white-knuckled grip. Bringing up the past was a calculated risk. "You're stronger, better than you think, always have been. Don't complicate what comes next. You get up. Get up because Ra's was wrong to ever mess with you, or because you're stronger than he led you to believe, or to prove you can. Just get back up, and we'll figure the rest out from there."

STEPH: That question took the wind out of Steph. How could she forget? You never forget the first failure. The heart stopping moment where your best wasn't enough. It had broken her. The good guys were always supposed to win, right? That's how it was supposed to go anyways, but life has a funny way of proving you just how wrong you can be. The good guys don't always win, you can't always save everyone.

Babs was right, she always was. There was still the mere thought of grabbing her Spoiler gear and putting it on made her feel sick. It felt almost tainted now, like she couldn't even fathom wearing it when she held that mantle while Tim was taken to his worst nightmare. Whether she was convinced or not, she felt responsible. She could have been better.

"...I don't know how to get up this time. If I get back up, it can't be as Spoiler. I can't do that. Ra's ruined that for me. He...he ruined so many things, Babs. I have to hang it up. I just...I don't know what to do next now."

BABS: "Then try a different suit." The implication was clear. There was a symbol they'd shared once, both making it their own in different ways, but ultimately holding up the same mantle. As resistant as Barbara had been at first, she'd come to find Stephanie wore it well. She'd go head to head with anyone who dared say otherwise.

Unfortunately, the loudest protestor had been Stephanie herself, and the suit had found a familiar home on a rack. Barbara only begrudged her the change a little. Spoiler was Stephanie's, there were no shoes to fill.

But she wondered if Steph knew she never had to fit Barbara's boots, she only had to make them her own. That...

"I've told you before, I'll say it again. The suit you wear, that only gets you so far, Stephanie. Anyone can scare off a mugger with the bat symbol or a hood. The big stuff? That's you. It's always been you, and Ra's will never ruin that for you. Don't let him."

STEPH: Steph was quiet for a long, long moment. The implication was entirely too clear. Batgirl. It was a thought Steph had put in a box and shoved to the back of her mind. It had been a lot, the pressure she had put on herself to manage filling Babs' shoes. She had fallen, terrified of not being enough. She never wanted to let Babs down especially. She had much more faith in her than she thought was deserved.

Tears stung at her eyes for what felt like the millionth time. Letting out a shaky breath, Steph swallowed hard and looked at Babs. Batgirl. Batgirl. Batgirl. It was a loop in her mind on repeat, feeling entirely too much like coming home, yet moving out on her own to face the world standing on her own two feet.

Steph would do this for her. For Tim. For Babs. To show that bastard that he wouldn't get away with doing this to Tim, to her. Letting out a weak noise, Steph nodded rapidly and wiped at her face. "He won't. I can't...I can't let him. Not to me. Not to Timmy."

The fire was dim, burning barely bright enough, but a spark could lead to a flame. The flame could cause a forest fire and Stephanie Brown was a force to be reckoned with now. She'd make sure of that.

[elizabethemerald]

How about Barbara, Strickler, and Blinky having a heart to heart about the parental hardships of aiding Jim as he grows up. (Both as an individual and his role as the trollhunter.) Listen I just really like fics where the three talk about how difficult Jim is to raise okay.

Thanks for your patience!  This takes place in my Jim is Honest AU. In between the Battle of two Bridges and the Return of the Trollhunter. 

"I'm so glad we can finally get the chance for all of us to talk." Barbara said lightly as she distributed tea. Walter sat on one side of her dining room table and Blinky sat on the other. "After the battle, then the play, then my work schedule and you having to leave the country. "

She gestured to Walter. Both males pointedly didn't drink the tea she had given them. Blinky wasn't sure how troll digestion would handle the tea and Walter had already tried Barbara's tea once and didn't want to risk that again. 

"We are all here because we care about Jim and want him to be as safe as he can be considering his calling." Barbara stood at the head of the table. She gripped the table tightly. "And because I am out of my depth when it comes to trolls I am willing to put your various attempts on my son's life aside."

Walter looked down ashamed, but Blinky cleared his throat. He put one hand up, leaving his other three on the table. 

"I have never tried to kill Master Jim." He said. Barbara whirled on him, her eyes wide. 

"You may have never directly tried to kill Jim, but you knowingly sent him into every danger!" She shouted. Her knuckles were white on the table edge. "You forget, Blinky that I was the one who bandaged him up after every 'training session' with you!"

Barbara spun away from the table, releasing her death grip. "I've cared for bruises, cuts, slashes, several bruised ribs, bites, and a concussion!" She was shouting each word while numbering them off on her fingers. Her words increased volume and pitch, till she was almost screaming them out. "In just a few short months he's been burned, almost drowned, struck by lightning, shrunk and almost killed in a dozen different ways!" 

She faced him again and thrust her finger in his face. "Don't forget, sir, that while you were training a warrior, I was caring for a son! A boy, only freshly sixteen!"

Blinky looked down at his hands while Barbara glared at him. She was breathing heavily and closed her eyes to try and calm down. Walter leaned over and put his hand on her arm. Her eyes snapped open and she smacked his hand away. 

"You helped save my son's life and fought Bular and I know what that cost you. That's the only reason I'm not killing you with my own hands for lying to me and using Jim. Not to mention the very direct threats you made against his life as well." Barbara paused and breathed a little slower. "If you want us to have anything but a hostile relationship you need to start it back at square one."

Both of the people at the table stared at their hands now. Barbara took a minute to get her anger under control then sat down as well. 

"We are not here to discuss my feelings about either of you two. We are here to discuss Jim." They both looked up at her as she spoke. "With Bular dead and the Bridge safely in Trollmarket, what are the most likely threats Jim is going to face?"

"I believe the most-"

"The next threat is-"

They both started talking at once. Barbara sighed and gestured to the changeling. "Go ahead Walter."

"You are both aware of the changeling civil war that has started since Bular was felled. The actions of myself and Ms. Nomura have not gone unnoticed. We were successful in purging the Arcadia branch of the Janus Order of any loyalists but those changelings who still feel that our salvation lies in Gunmar are out there."

Walter put his head in hands. Barbara resisted the urge to put a comforting hand on his arm. After her own reaction it would be inappropriate. 

"The cost in lives … has been great. On both sides. All across the world changelings are disappearing. And it seems the fighting isn't over here either. " He paused again. "Ms. Nomura has brought to my attention that Principal Levitt has disappeared."

Barbara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Blinky however could only look in confusion between the other two. 

"Principal…" He said. 

Barbara realized he knew neither the man nor the position. "The head of Jim's school." She said,  then she turned back to face Walter. "Is there any chance of rescuing him?"

"It is exceedingly unlikely that he was taken alive." Walter said avoiding eye contact. "And if for some reason he was taken alive, if we were to find him he would likely be in no condition to return to his position."

Barbara rubbed her face. "I think we should still take a look at his house, see if we can turn up anything."

"Very well, I can pump my sources in the police force for information." Walter's eyes sharpened again, focusing on the two of them. "How ever we must also address what this means for us and for Jim."

"They could not have made the threat more clear,  either for the Trollhunter or myself. By removing the head of the school they are saying the school is not a safe place for either of us."

Barbara blanched, but Walter continued. "I was able to arrange things so that I will be taking over as interim principal, so we don't have to worry about a spy taking command of the school. And I've hired Ms. Nomura to take my place as history teacher. That will be two trustworthy changelings to protect Jim."

Blinky snorted at the idea of a trustworthy changeling, but Barbara and Walter immediately glared at him. He cleared his throat under their gaze. 

"I also believe we have another threat to consider." Barbara softened her glare at his words. "This threat I believe will come the Fair Claire."

"Do you think she's a changeling?" Barbara asked, glancing at Walter. 

"Ms. Nuñez? Certainly not." Walter paused. "We can always test by gaggletack but I don't believe her to be a changeling."

"She's not a changeling but her brother is." Blinky said. 

"The welp? He's no loyalist. He's no rebel either, but I can't see how he is a threat."

"No. But Claire now knows that her brother, her real brother is trapped in the Darklands."

"Ah." Walter said leaning back, his face troubled. It was Barbara's turn to look between the two in confusion. 

"I don't understand?"

"Remember what I told you about changelings?" Walter was the one to learn forward and explain. "The human baby we replace, is kept in the Darklands. As long as no harm comes to it we can transform at will. The welp, I believe the boys have taken to calling him NotEnrique, replaced Claire's brother. That means that her real brother is in the Darklands. You know the girl almost as well as I do now, how long do you think before she pushes Young Atlas into trying to enter the Darklands?"

Barbara sat back thoughtful while Blinky took up the narrative. "Not only would entering the Darklands risk freeing Gunmar, but the Darklands themselves are a black labyrinth filled with horrors and threats. If Master Jim went in alone it would almost certainly be a suicide mission."

"But he wouldn't, would he?" Barbara asked, then clarified at their confused looks. "He wouldn't be going in alone? We would be right there beside him?"

"Yes ideally we would." Walter replied. "I think I am starting to understand Blinkous' concern. Jim has a bit of a savior complex. Given the right motivation he might be inspired to think he alone can face the dangers there."

"It's unfortunately not uncommon for Trollhunters." Blinky said. "The previous one, Kanjigar, pushed away all of his loved ones, including his son and Aaarrrgghh and I. He feared what would happen if one of us were hurt."

"And it lead to his downfall. When he faced Bular, he was alone." Walter said. Barbara frowned her fingers moving on their own accord, tapping out a pattern on her arms. She hated thinking about Jim dying from all this. She felt the burning of unshed tears in her eyes. She rubbed them quickly and took a shaky breath to steady herself. 

"Alright, what motivation do you think could cause him to push us away?" Barbara asked when she was calmer. 

"A threat."

"To someone he loves."

"Something credible that he can't prevent."

Barbara tapped her fingers against her arms. "Do you think the threat will come to Claire? I know Jim has had a crush on her for two years. Or maybe Toby? His best friend would make a great target."

"Or what about his mother?"

Barbara wanted to dismiss that out of hand but she hesitated. 

"It seemed to me that the Young Atlas was most bothered by Ms. Nomura's trespass because of the implied threat to you." Walter said.  He looked down ashamed before he continued. "And after my own betrayal, he most feared that I would hurt you."

"When Draal moved into your basement Master Jim was happiest that you would be protected, even when he wasn't there himself."

"And I believe he already spends a significant amount of time caring for you since his father left. So any threat to you would be taken as the ultimate offense. Possibly enough to push the rest of us away."

"And that would leave him effectively alone." Barbara finished. She was seeing the picture they were painting. "So I guess we have to make sure I'm protected as well?"

She hated the idea immediately. She and Jim had taken care of each other ever since his father had left them. They had always been all they ever needed. She had learned Krav Maga to be able to protect herself and Jim. Now Jim's small circle of trustworthy adults were discussing how to protect her so he wouldn't do anything stupid. 

"I already have some changelings among the staff at the hospital. They should be able to head off any threat there."

Barbara looked at Walter in surprise. She hadn't noticed any new faces at work. "Really? Who?"

"Changelings go out of their way to make sure they don't know each other's human identities. I think that is something that should be continued. Especially with the current divisions in the Janus Order."

"Ok. What can we do about the house? Any defenses we make here we can pretend are to help Jim feel safer at home."

"Well there's always your guard dog in the basement. Where is he by the way?" Walter said. 

"Draal had been accepted back into Trollmarket." Blinky said. 

"Oh! Good for him." Barbara said. 

"Yes it seems he has regained his honor after sacrificing his arm to stop Gunmar's return." Blinky missed Walter's muttered, "Is that all it takes?" Barbara did notice, however she let Blinky finish speaking. "So unfortunately he will be splitting his time between here and Trollmarket and won't be able to protect the house like he used to."

"I can of course provide what weapons and spells I have available to ensure your protection." Walter said. 

"And you have access to any weapon in the Trollmarket Armory."

"Perfect." Barbara leaned back in her chair. She glanced at the clock on the wall. She wanted to pick Jim up from school today, since for once she wasn't working. She glanced at Walter than Blinky. "There is one more thing you need to do, Blinky."

"Barbara…" Walter cautioned. She could tell he knew what she was thinking. 

"Of course Lady Barbara, what do you need?" Blinky said. 

"You need to get Walter into Trollmarket."

Blinky hesitated. "As in sneak him in?"

"No. Openly as a changeling."

Both of the males spoke at once. Barbara rubbed her face with a hand. She keyed in on something Blinky was saying. 

"...it will take some time for us to change our traditions…"

"Traditions?!" The word came out as shout, immediately silencing the other two. "With all due respect, fuck your traditions."

They both stared at her open mouthed. Barbara continued, trying her best to keep her calm, despite her long seated annoyance on this topic. "Your traditions had a fifteen year old boy enter into a death match 'for honor.' Your tradition had one of the rules of your protector be always murder your opponent. Your tradition has you hating your own children who were stolen away from you and enslaved."

Barbara stood up, almost knocking her chair over. "Changelings are dying Blinky. Everyday." She turned away from him to address Walter. "How many of these loyalists are fighting because they don't believe they have any options? Because they don't think Troll society will ever accept them?"

Both of them were looking considering now. "Blinky I'm not asking for a miracle. I know it will take time, but we have to show the changelings everywhere that they have someone else who will accept them other than Gunmar."

"I will have to talk to Vendel. You are right, obviously." Blinky turned to look at Walter. "You have already helped Master Jim. I will make sure you and your kin are accepted." 

Blinky immediately stood up and walked to the stairs to the basement. Barbara leaned against the wall as he departed. She hoped she wasn't driving a wedge between Jim's allies, but she wasn't going to stop speaking her mind. 

Walter stood up and grabbed his jacket from its spot over the arm of the couch. He paused as he buttoned it up. 

"Barbara." She turned at the hesitant tone in his voice. "You said our relationship is reset to square one. So could I take you out for coffee, tea or an appendectomy?"

Barbara gave a soft laugh. "Coffee sounds amazing."

[incoherentbabblings]

First Date (1/9)

Tim has one more test to pass before Bruce will allow him out as Robin. Like Dick and Jason before him, he has to avoid being caught by Batman for one night. He has already failed once, and is determined to succeed this time. Determination which might not count for much when Stephanie Brown is on the run from the mob. Her mother kidnapped as a way to threaten her father, Stephanie manages to escape and run into Tim. Unable to leave Stephanie alone when she is in need, Tim decides to try and multi-task. All he has to do is rescue Stephanie’s mother, take down the mob, avoid Batman, and get Stephanie to agree to a proper date all in one night. Absolute anarchy ensues.  Ao3 link here!

This is 100% inspired by the First Love (2019) Trailer.  I didn't know the plot when I started writing so it's purely the premise of girl being chased by the mob and the bloke getting drawn into the mess cause he's head over heels for the girl... seems as good a place to start as any. The film looks absolutely bonkers so I wanted to try and capture that energy in a story. God knows if I succeed. Everyone is a little bit older than they otherwise were in the comics. I have no excuse.

Tim tried not to stare too long at the Robin costume behind the glass panels.  Batman was stomping down the cave stairs behind it, heading in Tim’s direction.  He was currently slumped at a desk, fiddling with small explosives.

The final test began in three hours, and Tim was so nervous he felt like he was about to give birth to a brick.

Avoid Bruce from eight at night until eight in the morning.  That was all.  A demented game of hide and seek; stop any (small) crime that you came across that night but avoid being pointed out by or grabbed by the Bat. No costume, no equipment, just you and the clothes on your back and feet.

Dick had managed it, Jason had too.

Tim was on his second go.

The first time he had fumbled simply because he was not fast enough.  He had managed until three in the morning.  Squatting in an abandoned building in the narrows, he had stopped to eat a breakfast bar and take a piss.

It had not ended well.

So, six months later, endless missions as Batman and Oracle's mission control plus one and at least sixty lessons on improving reflexes, he was getting a second shot.

He had been told under no circumstances would there be a third.  If he failed this, Robin was dead (in every way that mattered).

Dick was optimistic to Tim’s face, happily offering advice and a change of teacher whenever Tim could manage visiting New York.   However as far as Tim knew he had not vouched for a second shot to Bruce himself.  Dick still would not step foot in Gotham if he could help it.  His relationship with Bruce, something Tim had given himself the task of starting the restoration of, was still very strained.  Jason’s costume in the glass case hung over everyone like the dead elephant in the room.  Always present, always in sight, always inescapable.

No, the push for a second go had come from Barbara.  Tim enjoyed spending time with her.  She was sardonic in her wit, but patient in her teaching.  Sometimes it was reassuring, sometimes it was patronising.  She had a level head and a gentleness about her that somehow reminded Tim of his mother (little he got to spend significant amounts of time with before she kicked the bucket).

Maybe he was projecting.

His brain wandered, thinking of what a Gotham psychiatrist would make of him.  Nothing good probably.  What sixteen-year-old signs up for what he signed up for?  What he pushed for?  If Bruce and Dick had had their way, none of this would be happening.  Tim’s stubbornness appeared pathological.  He titled his head, wondering if he was being cruel by pushing Robin back into the lives of people who had wanted to leave it behind.  He briefly realised that he was acting on the assumption that he knew how best to handle the emotional state of two grieving men than they themselves did.

Although, thinking of Dick and Bruce’s emotional processing capabilities, perhaps Tim did know better.

He frowned and pressed his lips together, hands still fiddling with the small explosives that he would not be allowed to take with him tonight.  So lost in his own head he only realised he was glaring disgustedly at Bruce until Batman coughed loudly.  Tim started, fingers fumbling over the bomb’s trigger.

“I wasn’t staring at you.”  Tim said pitifully.

“Clearly.”

Tim had no response and looked down at the tiny bombs.  They couldn’t do much damage, they stung more like a paintball pellet when they exploded.  Enough to make you wince and potentially fall over, weak enough to avoid any real damage apart from your suffering ear drums and bruises from the popped shell.

“Where’s my starting point this time?”

Batman looked at the time: 7pm.  One hour until kick-off.

“Wayne Tower” he said.  “Fifteen-minute head start, then I will set out from here.  Be back at Wayne Tower any time after eight, but before nine tomorrow morning. Don't think you can squat there all night.  You'll lose in less than half an hour.”

Easy.

Nodding, Tim stood up and pulled away from the table.  He still held on to one bomb with his right hand, thumb rubbing anxiously against the sphere.

“I won’t fail this time.” He swore.

Bruce said nothing, and there was no movement of his mouth to indicate any other sort of reaction.  Tim felt himself internally slump.  Bruce had no faith in him.  He’d always known that, and logically he understood the reasoning.  It didn’t mean that it still didn’t sting a little.

“Your father understands you won’t be home tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m covered.”

Ives was the cover.  He hadn’t intruded too much into why Tim was sneaking out all night, but felt naughty enough to agree to lie to Jack in case enquired further.  It wasn’t the most solid of plans, but Tim also knew that his father barely checked on him as is.  Too lost in his own head to notice what his son was up to.

“Good.” Batman held out a small device.  “Take this.  If you need help or want out, switch this on.  I’ll be able to find you then.”

Tim stared at it for a moment, then rather reluctantly took it.  “It’s not on already is it?  Not much of chance tonight if this is already tracking me.”

Batman was unamused.  “It switches on when you switch it on.”

Tim’s awkward smile fell and he nodded, pocketing it.

“See you tomorrow morning then.”  He joked, laughing with a confidence he wasn’t sure he felt.

Bruce just grunted and went to turn away.  Tim exhaled heavily, gnawing on his lip, when his thumb snapped a small knob on the bomb.  He looked down, realised he had just triggered it, and squeaked.

The thing popped in his hand with such a loud bang that it disturbed the bats above, screeching and rustling.  One of them proceeded to take a massive crap which plopped down between Tim and Batman.  Swearing loudly, he flapped his hand quickly back and forth, trying to cool down the burn.  Bruce had turned at the sound, then stared at the pile of bat waste on the metal floor.  His gaze moved up, and watched Tim make a fool of himself.  Not one ounce of emotion was shown on his face.  Tim smiled, eyes wet with the sting.

“This is fine.”  Tim said.

“Is it?”

“Yup.  Peachy.”  Tim whistled and winced and buried his hand between his thighs, trying to elevate the sting.  Bent in half, head near the floor, he choked out a polite goodbye, wishing for Bruce to just leave him in his humiliation.

When he finally gathered the courage to look up, he saw that Bruce was gone.  Smacking his head repeatedly, he slumped away to his red car, sidestepping the bat poo that Alfred would inevitably have to clean.

A great start to a great evening for sure.

Tim parked around four blocks down from Wayne Tower, a multi-storey which smelt of piss, alcohol, weed and assortment of other nose wrinkling things.  It was around the block from the hospital, so was not used for much outside of frantic potential patients and their visitors.

Slowly he made his way down the stairs, hopping past a passed-out chap hanging over the railings.  Coming out onto the overwhelmingly busy street, he began to make his way to Wayne Tower.

He had a rough game plan.  One that, in hindsight, was not detailed enough.  First time round he had made the mistake of planning out his every move, to which once Batman had figured out that plan, tracking Tim down was easy-peasy.  No, this time, he was going to (Night)wing it.

He was going to stay low initially, stay amongst the crowds of central Gotham for as long as it was busy and as long as Batman needed to stay out of sight from the average Joe.  He’d worn bland clothing to try and blend in.  Black sneakers, black jeans, some plaid shirt and a red light jacket.  A backpack had nothing but the absolute essentials in them.  He’d been refused any tools to help him, but food, drink and money was allowed.  He’d left his phone behind, and the tracker Batman had given him was zipped in an inside pocket.

The city’s churches rang out that it was eight o’clock, and it was go time.

He took in a deep shaky breath, rolled back his shoulders, and left the tower grounds.

***

Stephanie knew she had her pissy face on.  It matched her insides, which were churning in a such a rage she had developed heartburn.

If she threw up, she begged it would be after she got off the bus.  And in front of the hospital.

Her mom had insisted on her coming to pick her up from work.  Her mother’s shift ended at eight, and there Steph was on her way to collect her mother.

A lone seventeen-year-old girl travelling in the dark on public transport.

Bad enough for any city.

But in Gotham?

Stephanie wondered if her mother was trying to get rid of her.

She knew she had enough of an angry expression that no-one dared sit near her for fear she would start ragging on their very existence.  Or throwing up on their feet.  Depended how awful the heartburn got.

Headphones in playing no music and sneering at nothing, she silently stewed the whole journey into Gotham City Centre.

Upon arrival outside the hospital, she waited for her mother to emerge.

Crystal stumbled out into the early autumn air, wearing probably a thicker coat than was necessary.  On her feet were her white slip-ons, but she had changed into what appeared to be her pyjamas.

Stephanie inspected Crystal as she shuffled over.  “What’s with the jammies?”

Her mother ignored her.  “Need to head to the pharmacy.”

Curling her lip, Stephanie shook her head.  “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?  It’s eight at night?  I’ll go to the one round the corner first thing in the morning for you before you wake up.”

Her mom didn’t seem to hear her.  “I’m all out.  I won’t sleep unless I got something to knock me down for the night.”

Seeing how uncooperative she was being, Stephanie snapped as her. “Weren’t able to grab some spares from the cupboards?  You know the in-house ones won’t give anymore so you—”

“That’s enough Stephanie!” Her mother whirled and grabbed her hand, pulling her down the street.  “I am in pain after a nightmare shift.  I don’t need you to have a go on top of everything.”

Guilt flooded Stephanie, and she shut up.  She reminded herself that she couldn’t be responsible for her mother’s sobriety and tried to let it go.  She twisted in her mother’s grip until she could hold Crystal’s hand. Her mother twined their fingers together, holding tight.  All was forgiven.  Conflict avoided.

“…We got through another scene of Hamlet today.”

“Oh?  Enjoying being Ophelia?”  Crystal asked, staggering slightly, the pain in her back slowing the pair down considerably.

“It’s fun… kinda.  Though, she doesn’t even have that much to say or do in the end.”

“No… most of Shakespeare’s tragedies don’t give much to the women.”

“Lady Macbeth and Juliet aside.”

“Hmm.  The comedies are better anyway.”

And so, they talked, slowly making their way through the centre of the city, hunting for the one pharmacy that a) was open after eight and b) was within walking distance of their bus stop route.

Gotham was noisy and bright tonight, many staggering people yelled and fell over into the road, but most of them were laughing or from having a good time.  The neon signs for assorted bars, restaurants, clubs and shops were garish more than welcoming, but Stephanie liked it all the same.  The city was alive, though down each dark alley uncomfortable smells and sights ensured both women kept deliberately facing forward.  A humdrum of the city came out at night, especially after twelve.  That was when the Bat would appear, and all hell would break loose.  Stephanie and her mother lived far enough out in the crappy suburbs to avoid the hellish events from places like the Narrows from spilling over, but that didn’t mean they had escaped what the city could be unscathed.

For example, Stephanie’s father - Crystal’s husband - hadn’t come home in nearly two weeks now.

Stephanie cared, if only because she didn’t know why and/or where he was.  Maybe he was dead, lost in a shoot out and stuffed down the sewers.  Maybe he was cooking up another awful plan to get more money, hurting who knows how many people in the process.

Stephanie didn’t love or care for her father, but she did care about the consequences of his actions on others, on Gotham.

On her mother.

They arrived at a pharmacy which looked rather empty inside, save for three blokes staring at the condoms and lube in one corner.  Crystal took one look at them and asked for Stephanie to wait outside.  Reluctant, but not wanting to fight with her mother more that evening, Stephanie nodded, and lingered under a lamp.  She plugged her headphones back in and stared in the shop window, eyes following her mother.

She watched as Crystal pulled a prescription from her purse at the counter.  A very tired and out of it looking pharmacist glanced at it, then glanced at Crystal, then glanced back at the paper, and finally back to Crystal.  They heaved such a sigh it was like they carried the weight of the world, and then moved out back to fill a bottle.  Her mother’s haggard appearance, making her look older than her age of 42, was in part due to endless cigarettes, as well as the alcohol and drug abuse.  The pharmacist no doubt recognised it, but just wanted to do their job and get Crystal out of the store.

Stephanie ignore the sound of some pervert wolf whistling her from some bar across the road and glared as one of the three condom buying men turned and did a double take at the sight of Crystal.  He repeatedly smacked his friend on the arm, not so subtly grabbing his attention.  The third guy listened to the pair as they talked, watching with no subtlety the woman waiting for her painkillers.

Feeling a drop of fear, Stephanie went to walk in the shop, praying that faced with two woman, one that could kick and punch and bite particularly hard, the men wouldn’t try anything.  The third man noticed her before she entered, and pointed with an exaggerated stupidity, like he was an old friend of hers and it was some inside joke, some usual greeting between the two.

She jerked to a stop, instead blurting out a call for her mother.

Crystal turned, frowning, when Stephanie saw them men pull out guns.

She shrieked, and the second man turned his gun on her, and shot above her head, firing through the open door.

Stephanie fell to the ground, then scrambled up.  The man had deliberately missed her, so frightening her must have been the aim.  Beyond that, she was lost at their motives.  She didn’t recognise those men, and neither did her mother it seemed, who was kicking up a storm, screeching and twisting and kicking as the other two men grabbed her.  The moment one of them put his pistol on her temple, she froze, and looked for Stephanie out the corner of her eye.  The pharmacist had seemingly hidden away in the back once the sound of shots had been made.

Stephanie tried to rush into the store to help, partially sure that the men wouldn’t do any serious damage to her, when another fired bullet grazed her thigh, shattering the store window.  She collapsed from the pain, and looked down as her leg began to run red.

The man wasn’t trying to miss, he was just a shit shot.

With a bleeding leg, a mother in danger of being shot in the head, and three men with guns ready to hurt or kill her, Stephanie freaked.

She began screaming hysterically, and a crowd had begun to gather at the spectacle.  No police presence appeared, and no-one intervened.  Drunken jeers came from the side, but no-one helped Stephanie to her feet or to check on her injury.  Three incompetent men with guns were somehow a greater threat then three competent ones to the general public.  Stephanie and Crystal were strangers to these people, and not something risking their life over.

Her mother was dragged out the shop and into a nearby car mounted on the curb, not resisting and limp with fear.  Once she was inside, two of the men turned for Stephanie, but she had managed to pull herself to her feet.  Still screaming, although with rage this time instead of fear, she body slammed one to the ground, doing a roly-poly on top of him.  Her leg burned in agony, but she managed to pull herself up to standing.  She began to sprint as best she could away, heading back towards the hospital.  She had to treat her leg first.

With what money? Eh.

And then what?

She didn’t really have the presence of mind to think chronologically or logically about her situation.  Her left leg gave way every time her foot slammed into the concrete ground, and she flinched and screamed every time a shot rang out until she was so far down the street she was out of range.

That didn’t stop them however, as the car drove away, one of the men gave chase to Stephanie, seemingly sure he could run down an injured teenage girl.

She managed to turn the corner onto a large avenue, the hospital just one more block down.  Wayne Tower, in all its fancy glory, stood watch at the far end.  Her leg gave out then, and she crashed into a streetlamp.  She called for help again as she saw the man gaining on her.  She went to push off the pole, but she collapsed in a heap on floor.  She rolled onto her back, groaning.  Most people gave her a wide berth as she stared at the man only a few feet away now.  One or two hadn't moved out of the way, probably from confusion more than anything.  The man pushed several of them out of the way.

Abruptly, and with as much strength as a brick wall, a boy in front of her held his arm out, and punched the man straight in the face.

The man actually whirled up and down, legs up in the air at odd angles, arms contorted strangely as he had stopped at such a speed and with such force.  His head thumped against the ground, and with that the man pursuing Stephanie was passed out cold on the street.  She felt herself squeak at the man now lying on the floor next to her.

The boy quickly removed the gun from his hand, emptying it of bullets and scattering them on the street.  People were staring again, but didn’t say or do anything aside from a passing comment here and there of, “Hey is that guy passed out?”

Stephanie tried not to flinch as the boy knelt in front of her, but she couldn’t help it as he looked at her bleeding leg. He went to touch it, to which Stephanie cried out, and slapped him hard across the face.

The boy lost his balance from the force of the slap but managed to hold his hands up in deference whilst looking at the floor submissively.  He was trying to make himself as small and nonthreatening as possible.  A difficult task to achieve when faced with a bleeding, sweaty, crying girl lying on the floor.

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I just wanted to check on it.  Should I get you to the hospital? It’s not far from –”

“I know where it is!   Where do you think I was running?”

Her sharp interruption didn’t seem to offend him, instead it seemed to amuse him.

“Yeah.  Sorry.  Sorry.”

He finally looked at her then, and Stephanie felt her heart stutter for a reason other than fear.  He also seemed gobsmacked for some reason, and his gaze made her squirm.

Darnnit.

“My name’s Tim.”  He finally offered, smiling like a dork who hadn't just one punched a gang member.

Shit.  He was cute.

Her stomach rolled abruptly, and Tim watched as she turned faintly green, growing concern on his soft face.  Her heartburn apparently had had enough of this evening, but she managed to turn her head to the side in time for her to vomit all over the street.  Some woman cried out, stumbling away and fell into the gutter, heels flying off comically.  Someone muttered, "Jesus Christ".  Stephanie and Tim couldn't care less.  He reached out and stroked her hair, far too familiar for someone he had just met and watched puke.  Stephanie found she actually quite liked it.  

A moment's pause, and Stephanie turned back over onto her back.  Someone shouted about how disgusting she was, and the blood oozing from her leg was starting to flow upwards on the uneven ground, mixing in with the brown stinky vomit.  There were carrot chunks from the soup she'd microwaved earlier slipping down a storm drain.  Her mother had just been kidnapped.  Stephanie had been shot in the leg.  She had bits of puke stuck in her hair and teeth and now her breath smelt really bad.

Her mother had just been kidnapped.  Stephanie had been shot.  In the leg.

Tim was grinning at her as if she were a million dollars.  She smiled dreamily.

“…Hi Tim.”

[drawacharge]

yo, idk what this is but it’s like. kind of sad ( no death or anything, just lots of angst lol ) and heavy discussion of suicide and suicide idealization. 

Billy’s standing at the edge of the quarry when Steve Harrington rolls up in his BMW, headlights casting a shadow off him that climbs the mountain wall like a monster’s silhouette. His arms are at his sides, and there’s a bottle of alcohol dangling from his fingers. The same warm air that’s been slowly melting the water meters below them blows his blonde hair to the side, locks twisting in the breeze. He’s completely still.

Steve isn’t trying to be quiet when he puts his car in park, and steps out without turning it off, headlights still streaming across Billy. He slams the door and walks toward him, not even the sound of Steve’s sneakers crunching gravel earning Billy’s attention. 

He’s not sure what to say, or do, but it’s four am and it’s weird for Steve to be out on a ride, and even weirder for Hargrove to be standing at the edge of a cliff with booze in his hand an unnatural stillness about him. He’s usually never not moving. Shifting his weight at practice, bouncing his knee on the bench, flipping his pen between his fingers while studying in the library. Billy seemed to have constant energy, always fidgeting, always moving. Except right now.

If he wasn’t standing up, Steve would have thought he was dead.

Is he even breathing?

“Hargrove--”

“I heard some guy jumped from here while he was drunk and killed himself,” he remarks, interrupting Steve in a way he wasn’t sure was purposeful or not. His back is still to Steve, but he finally moves, fingers flexing around the neck of the liquor bottle.

“Yeah.” He’s just staring at his back, watching his loose shirt shift in the breeze. He has to be freezing. “I think, uh. Back when Hopper and Ms. Byers were, like, teenagers.”

Billy knows who they both are. Hopper drove him home that night he woke up on the Byers’ floor feeling like he got hit by a freight train. Joyce worked where he got his cigarettes. He’s picked up bandages and other first aid supplies there too, but Steve isn’t supposed to know that part. Just like he isn’t supposed to know that Hopper’s been called up to the Hargrove residence a few times for domestic disturbance calls. 

His only reply is a grunt, and then silence falls back between them. Steve isn’t sure what to say, or do, or ask, except for what he wants to ask, but probably shouldn’t so. 

They aren’t friends. They’re barely even cordial.

He should get in his car and go home. Except.

He might wake up in the morning to a report that Billy Hargrove’s Camaro was found parked at the edge of the quarry with no Billy Hargrove in sight. He might be forced into joining a search party even though he already knows what they’ll find ( or won’t find ). Barbara Holland’s death already eats away at him when he should be sleeping, he doesn’t need another on his conscience.

“You going to jump?” He asks, only realizing after the words have left his mouth that he maybe should have found a more sensitive way of saying them. 

Regardless, Billy barks out a laugh. He tilts his head to the side and back just enough that one blue eye catches Steve’s. He thinks he sees a shadow similar to a bruise around it, but isn’t sure if that’s just an optical illusion cast by headlights. 

“You hoping I do?”

Steve’s nose scrunches up, “I might not like you, Hargrove, but that doesn’t mean I want you dead.”

“Funny,” Billy says, and turns back toward the cliff. “I wanted you dead.”

Steve doesn’t miss the past tense.

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

He thinks about telling Billy how he isn’t scary. How absolutely fucking nothing about him scares Steve because he’s looked death in the face twice now, and death didn’t come in a pretty blonde package. No, death was wrapped in slimy skin and millions of teeth. Death had a snarl that haunted Steve’s dreams. Billy wasn’t death. Hell, Billy wasn’t even fear. Billy was just some pissed off teenager with a grudge against the entire fucking world and fists to back it up.

“People usually wanna’ kill you, golden boy?”

Not people, he thinks, but doesn’t say. 

Instead, he finally steps up to stand beside Billy, and this time when Steve glances over he can make out the bruises perfectly. There’s one forming over Billy’s eye, another at his jaw. They seem fresh, not as ugly as they’ll be in the morning, but getting there. “You look like shit.”

Billy grins, showing off shiny white teeth, and Steve thinks it must hurt to pull his face like that, but if it does he can’t tell. Billy doesn’t even flinch. “So do you.”

It’s four am, and previous to this Steve was tossing and turning back and forth in bed. He hadn’t checked himself when he left, hadn’t even thought about it. His hair was probably a mess, eyes sunken in from a lack of sleep, bags laying heavy underneath them. Yeah, he probably looked like shit too. 

“It’s kind of bullshit,” Billy continues, and suddenly he’s holding out the half empty bottle of whatever for Steve to take. “Adults always fucking say this is going to be the best years of your life--” Steve’s heard that before. Shit, any teenager with a beating heart has heard that before. 

He unscrews the lid and takes a swig of what turns out to be brandy. 

“-- and, I gotta’ say, if these are the best years of my life then--” Steve offers the bottle back out in silence, and Billy stops to take it. He gulps down an unhealthy amount. “--then there really ain’t any reason not to jump, is there?”

Steve opens his mouth.

“Don’t say it gets better, either, or I’ll fuck up your pretty face again.”

So, Steve closes his mouth.

Instead, he eventually says, “Dunno’ if it does. I’m only, like, a year older than you and it’s all still pretty shit.” Billy snorts. “My parents seem happy. Until they don’t.” Until they’re yelling at each other and throwing shit because Mr. Harrington came home with lipstick on the collar of his shirt. 

“My ma’ was so unhappy she slit her own wrists while takin’ a bath.”

And like, wow, that’s a lot. That’s-- not what Steve expected to get back, especially from Billy, especially right now, when they weren’t friends, standing on the edge of a fucking cliff. He must be really wasted. 

Steve’s pretty sure saying I’m Sorry will also get him punched, so.

“I got a girl killed.” Billy looks over at him. “It’s not... the same thing. But she uh. Died. In my pool. While I was getting laid.” Why he’s telling Hargrove this he has no fucking idea, but--

The dude told him about his fucking mom committing suicide so. 

Billy takes another swig and holds the bottle back out. Steve’s taking a pull when he goes, “Aren’t we a fuckin’ pair, Harrington,” with such thick, bemused sarcasm that Steve can’t help but smile a little. It’s sardonic, maybe even flat, but it’s more genuine than any of the fake smiles he’s put on for other people lately. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “What a fucking pair.” There’s a beat then Steve adds, “And it’s fucking cold out. Come tell me how fucked up we are in my car before my dick freezes off.” 

And he makes his way back to his car, not sure if Billy will follow. He has his booze, though, so Billy does, sliding into the passenger seat of the BMW as Steve slides into the driver’s side. 

They don’t say anything as Steve turns on the heater. Billy doesn’t call Steve out for luring him away from the edge with absolutely no subtly, and Steve doesn’t call Billy out for letting him. 

They just get warm together, drink, and stare out into the vast expanse of nothingness. 

[whothefuckiscassandracain]

Post Crisis Cassandra Cain - A Summary

Well, folks, this is it – we have gone through all of Cassandra’s Post Crisis material (at least that of certain chronology)! What a ride! Now it is time to take one more look at the tag counter, before we reset everything for the New 52/Rebirth. Without further ado, here’s the final tally (with changes from the previous counter summary in brackets):

Aphasia: 88 (+16)

Living Emoji: 78 (+2)

Little Lady Of War: 53 (+13)

Batdad: 52 (+6)

Batmom: 50 (+6)

Dubious Characterization: 49 (+33)

Fast As Lightning: 45 (+3)

Fiercely Assertive Protector: 26 (+1)

Ghost Of Failures Past: 25 (+9)

Symbolism!: 24 (+6)

Creepy Bat: 24 (+8)

Cass Sass: 23 (+9)

Plight Of Permanent Perfectionism: 14

Better Off Dead: 13

Unusual mannerisms: 9

Made Of Steel: 9

Retchcon: 9 (+9)

Ballet Battler: 2

Spells ‘Team’ With An ‘I’: 2

First of all, as we can see, there were some traits to Cass’ character that can best be labelled as a case of Early Installment Weirdness and disappeared from her characterization after her defeat of Shiva.

Secondly, damn that Retchcon and Dubious Characterization counter! Late Post Crisis was really not kind to Cass, with Beechen in particular running her into the ground at every opportunity. Even just looking at it now hurts.

Thirdly, ignoring all the crappy Retchcons and Dubious Characterization, we now have a very clear picture of who Cass is. Her most defining traits remain:

Her aphasia, which resulted in her being very expressive with her body language and continued being an issue of varying degrees of severity, even after  she learned to understand spoken language. Cass does not give grand speeches and reading is a very taxing process for her, but she did improve over the course of her Post Crisis history.

Her insane combat skills (Little Lady Of War), which, combined with her very assertive style of handling problems, her insane speed, and her very tacit nature, often caused people to be at least intimidated and sometimes even downright terrified of her.

Her tendency to blame herself for past failures, whether they are people she failed to save or mistakes she made while on the job. This is especially relevant since Cass’ loyalty is not towards any one person, but towards what the bat symbol represents.

Her tendency to sass out her opponents (and sometimes allies) with what little words she uses.

Now, as for her relationship with the Batfam, the following can be said in summary:

Bruce was both a mentor and a father figure to her, from the beginning to the end, with varying degrees of heartwarming/jerkish behavior. The latter was usually a result of post Jason’s death causing Bruce to be an emotional brick and put the mission before everything else. For most of the story… Cass did not mind all too much, at least if you can ignore Beechen’s retcons, although she was still happy about her eventual adoption. That said: if you ever want to trigger the Batdad in Bruce, let someone catcall after Cass and he’ll probably break the guy’s jaw.

Barbara was essentially Cass’s mother figure and trying very hard to nurture Cass’ civilian identity, much in contrast to Bruce’s and Cassandra’s approach. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Cass established a similar, if brief, relationship with Brenda while in Blüdhaven – another redhead with a kind, but firm approach to encouraging Cass to actually live her life for her own sake. It is a crying shame that the Barb and Cass had very few interactions after War Games, but it is hardly surprising, given that DC was in the process of writing almost every single woman/girl in the Batman stories out of these stories. One thing that should be mentioned: barring that single brain fart in Birds of Prey Vol 2, Barbara has always had Cass’ back, even during times when other members of the family did not trust her.

Speaking of which: Dick Grayson. Oh boy. This relationship started relatively neutral, with Dick being very much ok with Cass in their first interaction, despite Cass’ disability and her related quirks. Then it became heartwarming on screen, with Dick quickly coming to Cassandra’s aid and making sure she was okay during the “Soul” drug storyline in Batgirl and being very upset when she let him hit her during the Bruce Wayne: Murderer? storyline, as well as off screen, since he apparently acted out all the parts of Cinderella for her at one point. Then it took a complete nose dive into the opposite direction following Cass’ asinine turn to evil, which led to Dick being openly hostile towards her and not trusting her with… well, pretty much anything. It took Alfred shouting at him to reconcile the two and while their last few interactions were of the reasonably friendly nature again, it was too little too late. What a mess.

As for Tim, he went from not trusting her during their initial interaction to gradually accepting her as a member of the family to being very supportive of her and a very good friend, especially following War Games, when the two of them worked together in Blüdhaven. In contrast to Dick, Tim was much more willing to forgive Cass for her actions during her turn to evil and maintained a good, friendly relationship with her, even after she moved to Hong Kong. He was the one who gave her the Blackbat suit and reminded her that she was family and he was also the one who worked with her the most. Last but not least, he did not put up with Damian’s bullshit about Cass in Gates of Gotham. Good job, Tim! You’ve been a very good brother to Cass.

Speaking of Damian, he had very little interaction with her and went from “she sounds wonderful” before they met to being very abrasive towards her after they met and calling her “spineless, naïve and fragile”. Honestly, it comes across very unconvincingly and much more like Damian’s bruised ego trying to defend himself from someone who does actually live up to her reputation may be legitimately better than him in certain aspects. Either way, there is not much love lost between the two of them.

Next up: Stephanie. During their first meeting, Cass was rather cold towards Stephanie, mostly because of their difference in skill level. Cass’ concern about Stephanie not being strong enough to do the job remained for a long time, but she still grew to like and respect her as a friend and partner eventually, to the point where Stephanie could arguably be called Cass’ best friend. They chatted about boys, they played rooftop tag together, they discussed important changes in their lives, such as Stephanie becoming Robin. During War Games, Cass wanted to go looking for Steph because she was worried about her and only didn’t because Bruce promised he’d do it instead. Steph’s ‘death’ hit Cassandra hard, to the point where she hallucinated Stephanie being the one to greet her and comfort her on the other side of the pearly gates during two (near)death experiences. During Convergence, Stephanie and Cass lived together for a full year, supporting each other both physically and emotionally. Stephanie is, without the doubt, the best friend Cassandra ever had.

Finally, there is Alfred (because DC were cowards and never gave us Cass & Jason). Alfred, as always, was a real treasure. At first, he merely took care of Cass’ own Batcave home and later her apartment near Gotham U as per Bruce’s request. Then he went through the trouble of finding her the perfect apartment/secret cave combination in Blüdhaven. He was shocked to hear of her supposed death and upon her return to the Batfam and her moving into Wayne Manor was quick to point out that Cass felt like she did not belong there and that they should do more to reassure her that this was really her home and her family now, with no strings attached. More than anybody else in the family, Alfred recognized the often self-destructive need Cass felt to redeem herself for past failings and it is only thanks to his intervention that Dick reconciled with Cass. In short, over time, Alfred has come to care deeply about Cass, as he does about all the children that ever fought alongside Bruce/Batman.

Last but not least, a few notable mentions about other relationships Cass had with various people:

Cassandra has a complicated relationship with her father, if you ignore Adam Beechen’s horrible retcons. For eight years, Cain was all she had, and while she recognizes that he is a horrible human being and a lousy father (she beat him into a pulp over this), she also recognizes that he does actually care about her. As a result, Cass is not friendly with him, but she is not cruel towards him either.

Her mother, Lady Shiva, barely had anything to do with her and left her in Cain’s hands an hour after Cass was born. She mainly saw Cass as a tool (someone to finally defeat her in combat and later someone to help Nyssa Raatko lead the League Of Assassins), but showed at least some motherly concern when it was believed that Cassandra had been killed and Shiva helped Tim investigate her murder.

One of the few people she was close to before operating independently as Batgirl was Leslie Thompkins. Cass has insane respect for Leslie, because of her iron pacifist nature and was deeply saddened when Leslie broke ties with her during War Games. We sadly never got to see reunite on page.

Cassandra has had a rocky relationship with Huntress, mostly because Cass is staunchly anti-killing and because Batman took the Batgirl mantle from Huntress and gave it to Cass. Mind you, Barbara never approved of Helena as Batgirl.

She got along very well with Onyx, thanks to Onyx having been with the League Of Assassins before and thus actually being a challenge for Cass, while being a genuinely good person. Sad we didn’t get to see much of these two together.

Azrael (Jean-Paul) had a crush on her, which Cass did not quite reciprocate, but she wasn’t unfriendly to him either.

The first boy she ever kissed was Connor Kent (Superboy), even though she was annoyed with his way-too-carefree nature and his focus on her physical attractiveness. They broke up amicably.

She had three more dates with guys, none of which went anywhere.

And to round off our summary, here are some nice little bits and pieces of Cass

The first words she learned were, in chronological order: (thanks - incomplete), (goodbye - incomplete), stop, no, me, shutup, what, why, stay, instinct

She was 17 years old at the time of her introduction. Her birthday is January 26th.

Her favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate.

Cass is a big and messy eater.

Her home is very untidy and while in the manor she did not customize her room at all (no pictures or other mementos).

She likes horror movies (she really enjoyed Alien).

She is probably the only person in the family who really wants to be the next Batman and actually became Batman in some timelines/alternate universes.

She likes rice krispies, Assam tea, and long showers.

Cass can’t hold her liquor.

[zombiesbecrazy]

Hit, Strike, Throw

Summary: An afternoon in the cave has Barbara anxious to show off her new and improved escrima training and Dick anxious about something else.

Written for DickBabs Week - Day 7 prompt - sparring

ao3

“Okay, show me what you’ve got.”

“You have to stand up.”

“You’re sitting. I should be sitting.”

“If someone is going to attack me, they aren’t going to do it down at my level out of some sort of skewed sense of honour.” Barbara folded her arms across her chest and stared at him with a look that she hoped was at least a little threatening. “So, stand up.”

Her glare must have been at least somewhat effective because Dick popped to his feet, standing up straight and gave a little salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you really just ma’am me, Grayson? Honestly? Prepare to have your ass handed to you.”  Barbara takes off her glasses and sweater and tosses them on the desk. “Bring it.”

He nods and disappeared into the darkness of the cave behind them, leaving her alone in the center of the training room.

During her time as Batgirl, Barbara had never really taken to weapons training the way that Dick or Jason had.  She had learned the skills and felt comfortable with plenty of weapons in her hands, but hadn’t really found a style that she wanted to permanently adopt. She had found that her strengths had laid more in aikido, krav maga or other martial arts where she could use her opponents’ strength against them instead of brute force, keeping her hands free for holds and grabs. She could still use those defensive moves, but without the use of her legs she needed to find a way to attack back. Just because she wasn’t active in the field any longer didn’t mean she couldn’t be prepared to act if needed; if something were to happen when she was at home or just going about her daily life. Again.

Training with Richard Dragon was vastly different than her training with Bruce had been. Sort of reminded her of the Karate Kid with a wax on, wax off vibe with her learning the moves, but no actual sparring yet. Three weeks in and while she felt that she had made leaps and bounds she was getting a little antsy about not having a chance to test herself. Once Dick had heard that she was primarily practicing escrima, he wanted to see her in action and she jumped at the chance for some actual sparring, hence the afternoon in the cave while Bruce was out of town.

She waited for Dick’s first move, hands folded in her lap, trying to simulate being caught unaware. Trying to pretend that there wasn’t a vigilante lurking in the shadows about to sneak up and attack her. Surprisingly she heard him off to her left before she saw him, a scuff of a foot, and she moves her hands quickly to the armrests and snaps her sticks out of their hiding spots and grips them firm.

Dick rushes at her head on and she swings with a smooth double arc.  He dodges out of the way, but she makes contact on his thigh when she reverses her left stick through its last path while spinning the right back into the neutral pose.

“Nice hit. Good balance of finesse and power.” He raises his arm to block a right swing, but she flips the stick, jabs the handle into his outer elbow and smiles when he grunts at her strike.  “And the ma’am? Totally not an insult. It was the glasses. They make you look all sexy librarian.” He darts around her chair and drops down to speak directly beside her ear in a low tone. “Like if I dog ear a book or don’t whisper, I’d get in so much trouble.”

“You’re trying to distract me.” Barbara brings both arms above her head to try and hit him while he stands behind her, but her contact doesn’t hit her target, and he’s back in front of her in a blink, eyeing her like prey in their cat and mouse game.

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

She’s watching his feet trying to follow his hakbang, his footwork patterns, to figure out where he is going next but not surprisingly he’s being sporadic and not following anything specific that she’s learned so far.  She may be using escrima techniques but he’s all over the place, mixing and matching his styles to try and throw her off. “Really? Librarian? Such a cliché, Hunk Wonder. What’s next?  Cheerleader? I expected better from you.”

“Clichés are classics for a reason, Babs.”

In the end, Barbara didn’t actually take him down, but she thinks that if they were using actual escrima sticks and not the training ones, she would have been able to force to drop him to his knees a couple times.  There had been a nice jab to his ribs that had both winded him and left him with an impressed look, and she was happy to see that her seated position could actually be a bit of an advantage; even someone as skilled as Dick had a hard time landing blows to her torso and the lower center of gravity was more difficult to target than a typical standing foe, but she had to pay closer attention to head shots. With a little more experience and practice, she’d be able to defend herself a lot more than she had thought was going to be possible.

“You’re getting really good. I wasn’t expecting you to use a redonda strike when you got me in the ribs.” Dick says as he rubs his side and Barbara smiles.  It was a nice hit and she knows he’s going to have a bruise from it.

“You were going easy on me.”

“Only a little.”

“An attacker won’t.”

“I wasn’t going to go all out, true, but I am slightly more experienced than the average thug.”

“We are regularly attacked by ninjas. You can’t hold back.”

Dick sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He’s use to her Type A personality requests, wanting to be the best at everything she does.  “We’ll work our way up to ninjas, Babs.  I was going at ‘above average mugger’ level. You’ll get there quick if Dragon is training you.”

“You didn’t even try to knock me out of my chair. I’m working on this awesome floor move where I take you down at the ankles and then give you a black eye before you even know you are on the ground.”

“I… can’t.” Barbara opened her mouth to protest, but Dick held his hand up with his eyes pleading with her to stop.  He looked embarrassed, but didn’t look away. “I know I have to when we’re sparring so you can practice, and you can handle it but… not yet. I’m sorry if that sounds, I don’t know, condescending or ableist or something, but I’m not ready to do that to you. Yet. Please.” He flushed pink. “Give me a little more time to get my mind around it and then I’ll be able to do something like that. Promise.”  

Barbara nodded, because she understood where he was coming from. Dick had been pretty great since her ‘accident’ (she hated calling it that because a Joker attack is never an accident, but it was the simplest word for it), not walking on eggshells and treating her the same as before, but he was overdoing it. He went out of his way not to shove what she couldn’t do in her face, even when it was painfully obvious. He was pushing so hard insisting that she could do anything that she used to do, maybe just a little differently, that he was having problems putting her into a vulnerable position on purpose. He still needed to accept that things had changed; she could accept that he needed more time on this.

She went over to the desk, grabbed their water bottles and her glasses and returned to where Dick was now sitting on the couch near the sparring mats. She handed him the bottles and glasses while transferred herself to sit beside him. It was still a little clumsy, but she was proud of how much better she was getting at it. When she was settled, Dick grinned and carefully placed her glasses on her nose, and then his hand moved to rest in her hair. She winked at him and he groaned in response.

There was a slightly tense silent moment between them and then Dick took a deep breath and started rambling. “It’s not just the glasses. I mean, they are sexy, but I think you’re beautiful all the time. And smart, strong and all round badass. I think about you all the time.” His eyes shift off hers and look at where his fingers are gently playing with her hair. “You know that I’m in love with you, right?” he asked softly.

Barbara had suspected that he had had a crush on her for a while.  There hadn’t been a catalyst that she could remember but there seemed to be a shift in his words and movements around her; like a pulse that she hadn’t noticed before until it was right there in front of her.  

It was a little exciting.

“Dick…”

Interrupting her, he rushed on. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m not expecting you to. I just needed you to know.” He looks back at her again, a little hesitant but with a determination that she finds herself drawn to. “If it’s out in the open, I’m going to be less stressed about whether I’m acting weird around you or not. Now at least you’ll know why I’m acting like a dork.”

“You’ve always been a dork.” She wishes that she could knock her knee against his, like the way she did when they younger and being chastised by Batman for being silly on patrol or when they were watching the sun come up from Brown’s Bridge. Pivot. She leans her shoulder into him a little bit instead and she immediately feels him reciprocate the pressure. It stirs up the butterflies and feels warm deep in her stomach.

“You know what I mean. I feel clumsy and shy about it, but I’ve decided I’m not going to try to hide it either. It is what it is and you deserve to know. We don’t keep secrets from each other.” Dick reached down slowly and tentatively took her hands in his, as if he was worried that she’d pull them away, but of course she wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that.  She squeezed his hands in return and he visibly relaxed, letting out a long breath and the tension flowed from his shoulders.

“I feel it too.” She whispered and a smile kept onto Dick’s face.  Not his patented Robin grin, but a small lopsided one, one that was genuine and sweet and purely Dick Grayson. “This thing, between us. It’s not just you.” Barbara didn’t want to use the L word like he had, even though she knew that’s what she was feeling. That had been building for a long time. “I’m not ready. I’m doing better but this,” she leans forwards touches the rims of her chair beside the couch gently, “this has changed a lot things and I’m still figuring them out. Both about me and about life. I need a little more time.”  

“I can give you that.”

“I’m not going to ask you to wait.”

“You could.  I’d be good with it.”

“But I won’t. That isn’t fair to you. I don’t know how long it will for me to be ready, and I don’t want you to miss out on something great in the case that maybe I’ll never be ready.” The words made her nervous to say out loud, but he was right about not keeping secrets. She couldn’t keep this one from him or herself.  The rational part of her brain told her that she’d be ready to date again someday, probably sooner than she thought, but a voice kept whispering in the head ‘but what if you’re not?’ and she couldn’t ignore that doubt completely.

“I think I might wait awhile anyway.”

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

“Not unless you know how to stop taking my breath away.” His eyes widened and he covered his mouth with his hand and Barbara tried to contain a giggle but was failing pretty badly.  “Wow. That was awful. I’m so embarrassed for me.” Her giggles grew into full grown belly laughs and she hears Dick’s honest laughter joining hers.

“That’s one of the cheesiest things you’ve ever said. And I’ve heard you say things like ‘jumping jillickers’ un-ironically.” Dick’s eyes flick upwards for a second, almost as if he’s rolling them at his younger self. “But I think you’re right. Imagine how much worse that would’ve been if I didn’t know how you felt. You probably would have grappled off into the rafters.”

“Yeah. Would have dropped a smoke bomb first too. You know, for the aesthetic.”

“Such a drama queen.”

“It’s hard to not be overly dramatic when you grow up in a circus and then taken in by a guy who dresses up like a giant bat.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking from the bottles and listening to the sounds of the cave until Barbara nudged him again with her shoulder. “Thanks.” Dick raised an eyebrow. “For the workout. I needed that.” She locked her eyes on his. “And the other part too.”

“No problem. Thanks for not laughing at me and my moon eyes. Much.” Dick pulled out his phone and checked the time. “It’s still early. Want to go upstairs, watch a movie and see me get flustered when I sit too close?”

“Only if there’s popcorn so that our fingers might accidentally touch in the bowl and then we can both awkwardly pretend to ignore it.”

“Deal.”