#jason is a tight ball of nerves in that silence too

[breadandblankets]

Since Cass and Jason have such wildly different kill rules it makes sense that they would dislike each other at least a little bit. However, they are both friendly with Duke, so whenever the three of them are together they both try to be the favorite sibling

Cass and Jason are one of the tougher duos to keep a balance I think Jason is too afraid of Cass to try shit where she can see/know about to the best of his ability and to Cass he's like an especially weird bug she can't puzzle out (like you Died you know what that's like how could you think it's okay to bring to other people)

I don't think the three of em have much time to hang out in costume tbh so they're mostly hanging out in civies or in the Hatch (ie Dukes Turf because he's the only person who legally exists)

the moment Duke leaves for the bathroom or anything it's Dead silent as both Jason and Cass do their best to pretend the other isn't there

[rainygothherowolf]

Jasonette/Daminette- Little Sister Pt.2

Previous ~ Here ~ Next

Marinette was in the kitchen, preparing herself some hot chocolate. After the drama at Wayne tower, Jason insisted she stay with his family. Her older brother seemed to loathe the class with a passion, refusing to let her near them. Marinette's parents were hesitant at first, not trusting some random Gotham boy to take care of their daughter but eventually they were persuaded. Where she would be staying was definitely a factor, where could be safer?

"I don't see how you could stand to drink such sugary poison." Damian stated making her jump, he was right behind her. He reached past Marinette and to the cupboard she was in front of. He grabbed a teacup before pulling his arm back, his eyes never straying from her own.

"Well then... what do you suggest I drink?" Marinette's hot chocolate sat on the counter behind her, forgotten, as she turned and faced Damian. The Parisian crossed her arms defiantly, Damian looked down at her like she was a cute puppy.

"Tea has been known to calm frayed nerves, perhaps I could prepare you some?"

"W-why would I need to calm down? I feel perfectly fine!" Marinette declared, refusing to give in. Her stubbornness seemed to amuse Damian, he reached out and just barely brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Well, you've been blushing since you noticed I was here, for one. Now, would you like some tea? How do you take it?"

"I don't usually have tea. I tried making myself some a few times but always thought it tasted like bitter water."

"You haven't had my tea yet." Damian challenged, "You wouldn't be scared to try something I made, would you?" Marinette was coherent enough to see what he was doing, even if his imposing and, frankly, distracting physique was only a hair's breadth away.

"Only if you have my hot chocolate. Or are you scared of the 'sugary poison'?" Marinette offered, Damian leaned his head down just a fraction of an inch closer to Marinette before catching himself pulling away. He retreated back a few feet before turning to the sink.

"Alright then, it's a deal. I'll try the wretched holiday drink if you have my tea." Damian spoke with his back to her as he filled a kettle with water.

"Deal." Marinette agreed before heading to refrigerator, she's get him to admit her hot chocolate was good. No one called her favorite drink 'wretched' and got away with it.

"Deal." Damian reaffirmed.

By the time the drinks were done Marinette was thirsty, she would have had her own hot chocolate but Damian demanded she leave it, claiming it would cloud her pallet. She rolled her eyes at that but by the time she finally got past Damian's joking defense the drink was cold.

Marinette sipped from her cup first, Damian watched, both amused and attentive as she took a sip of the tea.

He laughed at her wrinkled nose, just for a moment- one could hardly call it a chuckle, before adding the cream.

"Try it now." Marinette looked at Damian hesitantly before taking another sip, this time he noticed her relax as a small smile graced her lips. Damian smirked at his little victory.

"Alright, your turn Monsieur." Damian rolled his eyes as Marinette watched him lift the mug. He felt she looked over excited for something so silly but found it strangely endearing.

The warm, smooth liquid made it's way past his lips and while it was a little too sweet for his liking, it was still good and he told her so.

"Fine, it was adequate." Marinette rolled her eyes before taking a taunting step toward him.

"Yeah right! That was some of my best work, you don't get to get away with calling it 'adequate'" Damian scoffed, taking a more intimidating step towards the short girl, one upping her in their little game of chicken.

"Then what do you suggest I call something I found too sweet but bearable?"

"Good! You call it good, it's important to be polite, Damian!" Marinette took another step forward forgetting how close they already were, refusing to back down. Damian had to look further down than usual to meet Marinette's passionately determined eyes.

He took his opportunity, using his right hand to tilt her chin upwards, smiling slightly, only slightly. They were so close, he could feel the warmth of her body from where he stood. Damian was about to speak when they saw someone walk into the kitchen, it was Jason.

The teenagers separated themselves quickly but it was too late, the damage was already done. The taller boy immediately scooped Marinette up and slung her over his shoulder. Jason was glaring daggers at a smug Damian before waking out of the room with Marinette. Damian waved goodbye to a blushing Parisian, she followed her old brothers lead and glared at the annoyingly smug boy.

The rest of Marinette's stay was an amusing balance between getting to know the Wayne's, spending time with Jason, and sneaking off with an unrepentant Damian.

Whenever Jason was around they kept their distance but were caught more than enough times.

"And you eat this?" Damian asked, bewildered at how anyone could consume something so unhealthy.

"Yes. It isn't that bad if you have it every once in a while. Sometimes the calories are worth it! Worth the satisfaction of indulgence." Damian scoffed from his seat on the counter opposite to Marinette, who was baking chocolate chip cookies.

"Why don't you help me? That way they're done sooner." Marinette offered, not realizing how disastrous the question was.

"I think it would be best if I didn't. Things tend to go wrong when me or my siblings attempt to do anything in the kitchen." Marinette giggled, she thought Damian was great. He was a good listener, funny, smart, and on top of that he was drop-dead-gorgeous. Marinette knew he wasn't just being friendly, no, he'd made his intentions perfectly clear when they first met but she didn't want to become a problem. Jason seemed to hate the idea, so she did her best to keep it friendly- unfortunately, Damian was persistent.

"It's just rolling the dough into balls, it's not even real cooking!" Marinette countered and Damian relented, getting up and watching her roll the dough before following suit.

At first, everything went suspiciously well. Damian did a good job rolling the dough and there was a period of comfortable silence, the problem with that was that it was too comfortable. Marinette began to hum, softly at first before it got a little louder. Damian didn't comment but eventually Marinette realized what she had done and blushed, her hands going to her head- accidentally getting flour on Damian's (NOT distracting) tight black turtleneck.

Marinette apologized repeatedly but noticed Damian was trying to smother his laughter.

"What? What is it?" The Parisian demanded, her accent thickening as she got more and more worried about what he was laughing at. As it turned out, the in her state of embarrassment she had not only dirtied Damian but also herself. She had cookie dough smeared across both cheeks. She blushed a deep red, making the cookie dough even more visible.

Eventually, Marinette moved past her embarrassment and spoke to a working Damian as he loaded the cookies in the oven.

"Oh Damian~" The boy turned, his eyes still amused.

"Ye-" Damian was cut off by a cloud of flour, she'd thrown the powdery substance at him as he turned. While blinded by the thick cloud of white Marinette was able to get close enough to get some cookie dough on his forehead.

"Oh it is on, little one, and I don't loose." They spent the next ten minutes throwing flour, extra dough, and water at each other, in a world of their own.

Reality didn't come crashing down on the teens until they saw the flash of a camera.

It was Tim and Stephanie.

Marinette blushed as she tried to dust the flour off herself, embarrassed that she'd made such a mess in someone else's home. Damian seemed to be torn between being amused at Marinette's embarrassment and trying to salvage what was left of his reputation.

"Jason's gonna lose it."

"Todd doesn't need to know."

"What's in it for us?" Stephanie countered, using her hand to lower Tim's hand as he tried to call Jason.

"Cookies?" Just as Marinette spoke the timer went off and she went to take the treats out of the oven. The warm chocolate-y smell filled the room as both Steph and Tim began to drool.

"Todd doesn't need to know?"

"Jason doesn't need to know." Tim seconded as Marinette fanned the cookies. When they were cool she handed them all the cookies on a plate. All but one that she negotiated for Damian to try.

Dick, Tim, Steph, Selina, even Bruce found it hilarious, they understood why Jason hated it, but they also saw that she brought out the best in Damian. It pissed Jason off, Marinette was off limits. Damian was frustrated because had Jason not been so annoying he'd have asked her out already, but watching the second robin get so riled up also made the chase that much more fun (not that Damian would even consider perusing her without her explicit encouragement).

Damian was taking Titus out for a walk on the grounds when he heard a familiar hum, he followed the high, sweet tune to the rose gardens where a small Parisian sat, sketching.

Marinette sat on a small bench for two, her hair in loose waves. She wore a black skirt that ended just above her knees and a deep red halter top with matching red flats. She looked stunning, surrounded by the vibrant rose bushes. He studied her for a moment more before making his presence known.

"What are you drawing?" Damian asked as he approached the girl. Marinette wasn't as jumpy as when they first met, getting used to his sudden appearances.

"A new design, a dress." Everyone knew she wanted to be a designer but no one knew she was MDC yet. Marinette convinced herself that was because it hadn't come up yet but in reality she was embarrassed. She'd heard Tim say they were his favorite designer and that if he ever met them he'd either fall in love (Stephanie slapped him across the head at that) or pass out.

Marinette didn't look up until Damian's shadow blocked the light. Marinette decided to tease him and ignore the boy in favor of his dog.

"Hello again, Titus! What a good boy, so cute!" She poured all her attention onto the animal who took it in stride. Damian didn't like being ignored but humored her, petting Titus.

"You like to design." It wasn't a question, Damian remembered what Grayson told him about conversation. He tried to find a relevant topic that would allow him to compliment her.

"May I see your sketch?" Damian asked, still paying attention to Titus. Marinette blushed as she quickly shut her sketchbook.

"Uh... hehe- maybe another day." Her logo was on the corner of each page and Marinette didn't want to risk it. Damian thought she looked adorable, blushing deeply, but he also thought it was uncalled for- he hadn't begun his teasing yet. This caught his attention and curiosity, he had to see the book.

"What? Why are you blushing?" Damian teased but he saw she was getting uncomfortable, he had done it in good fun but he saw he'd overstepped.

"Apologies- I'm sorry if I crossed a line I was just teasing, you don't have to show me- I didn't mean it." Damian was at a loss, he didn't think before he spoke and ended up stringing together apology after apology. Marinette giggled.

"It's okay, you don't have to blush!" Damian hadn't even noticed how hot his face was, this only embarrassed him further.

"Oh~ Do you need some tea? To calm the nerves?" Marinette teased, earning a half-assed glare from Damian, who was still trying to fight his blush. Finally, he got it under control. Despite the sidetrack Damian persisted, trying to start up another conversation just like Grayson told him to. He sat next to Marinette on the bench.

"The gardens are beautiful this time of year, are they not?" Damian offered. Marinette hummed in agreement, studying her surroundings before her eyes met Damian's.

"Breathtaking." Damian complimented, making Marinette blush heavily. Damian glanced at her full, pale rose lips, unconsciously licking his own. The Parisian seemed to notice and she tilted her head upward slightly, only slightly, with her eyes half-closed.

Damian summoned his courage and leaned in closer, they both closed their eyes. Just as they were about to close the gap, his hand was about to hold her check. Damian swore he felt her soft lips barely brush his when they heard Jason yell.

"AH! Get off her! NOPE NOPE NOPE!" Jason was a few meters away but both teens obeyed, embarrassed. Jason grabbed Marinette’s hand and quickly, but carefully, pulled his little sister away from Damian. "From now on, you two aren't allowed in the same room anymore. Except diner. Keep away from Nettie, Demon Brat."

Damian saw Jason's face, this wasn't just because he thought it was weird to see Damian try to date someone he saw as family- no, it was something else entirely. It was because he saw Marinette as too good, too pure for Damian.

Jason didn't want Marinette to be dragged into the mess that was Damian's life.

Jason didn't want Marinette to suffer because Damian didn't know how to deal with his emotions.

Jason didn't want Marinette to be hurt by Damian, he didn't want to see someone he loved hurt. It wasn't just because it was Damian, it was because he didn't want to see Marinette's heart get broken.

Damian, shockingly, backed off- hardly even acknowledging the girl on the few occasions they crossed paths. He wasn't outwardly rude like he was with his siblings but Marinette seemed to catch on. At first she was a little dejected but was adamant about keeping positive.

Jason spent as much time as possible with his little sister, making sure to watch movies, tour the city, and just hang out all the time. He also made sure that she got to know the rest of the family, except Damian. And the fourth robin let it happen, he kept to himself and let her spend time with everyone else.

And then family night reared it's ugly head.

Marinette was sitting with Alfred the Cat and Cass on the sofa, Jason on a chair near Marinette, waiting for everyone else to arrive for the movie.

The Parisian beamed when she met Kor'i and Mar'i, quickly bonding with both. Marinette was quickly dubbed Auntie Nettie by an Auntie Steph and Uncle Timmy. Dick was about to play the first movie when Kor'i spoke up.

"Where is the little D?"

"Yeah! Where's Uncle Dami?" A four year old Mar'i asked from her father's lap. Jason scoffed, he was about to speak when someone walked in.

"Has anyone seen Alfred the Cat?" Damian asked, before he saw Jason and Marinette. Damian was about to say never mind- noticing Alfred purring in Marinette's arms, but Mar'i beat him to it.

"Uncle Dami!" The half Tamaranian announced, jumping from the couch and flying into her uncle's arms. Marinette was quick to catch onto the families nightly activities and let them catch her talking to Tikki. Jason clearly wasn't happy, neither was Damian, but on the bright side they didn't have any secrets. Kor'i and Mar'i were briefly discussed but Marinette didn't pry.

"It's been forever, like a whole week! You have to come watch the movie with us, it's family night! You can sit next to Marinette! Isn't she pretty? And nice?" Mar'i chattered and waited for Damian to respond.

"Yes, she is very nice." Damian spoke as carried his niece to her father who gave him an encouraging smile before Damian sat between Marinette and Cass. Mar'i spoke up just before Dick could play the movie.

"And pretty! Right Uncle Dami? Isn't she really pretty? Like momma!" Kor'i gave her daughter a quick kiss on the cheek, distracting the girl from Damian and Marinette's panic- and Jason's low growl.

Dick played the movie and gently shushed his daughter, stopping her from asking Damian again. Telling her she did a good job and would get extra popcorn.

The movie was some children's story that Damian couldn't seem to pay attention to, all he could seem to think about was the Parisian next to him- cuddling Alfred the Cat with her knees practically tucked to her chest, her back to him.

Damian took notice of Marinette's drooping shoulders and yawns as the movie progressed, but he hadn't expected for her to suddenly turn and cuddle onto his side, grabbing his arm as she and Alfred slept. Jason clearly didn't like it but Marinette was immovable, sleeping peacefully against a tense Damian. The boy did everything in his power to not sink into the warm sofa and nap alongside her, exhausted. He fought his tired eyes as best he could but it was a losing battle.

Eventually the movie faded away, his head rested upon something soft.

Jason wanted to be mad, he wanted to move Marinette so she rested against him- she always used to as a little girl but he saw she was clinging to Damian, whether it was intentional or not. Jason knew Damian hadn't done anything to give Marinette reason to cuddle him, finally understanding that Jason just didn't want to see Marinette hurt. Unfortunately, neither could do anything about it. 

Jason also knew he couldn't blame Damian for passing out, knowing as well as anyone that finals and patrol were a bad mix but that didn't mean he didn't want to slap him for passing out and unconsciously cuddling with Marinette.

Alfred the cat eventually woke from his nap and moved from his warm spot between the two teenagers and left the room to do only God knows what. The sudden lack of warmth seemed to stir both Marinette and Damian. The Parisian whined softly as she nuzzled closer to Damian, her legs ended up across his lap as they snuggled closer. Jason clenched his fists and jaw before bringing his attention back to the movie, trying to think of what to do.

By the time the movie ended, Jason was at a loss- at some point Cass left the room so Damian and Marinette were literally lying on each other, limbs entangled as they slept, blissfully unaware of their compromising position. Everyone softly laughed and took pictures of Damian sleeping and Marinette lying carefully on top of him, his arms wrapped around her with her head tucked under his chin. Their their legs tangled.

"Jay, I'm sorry but they're so cute together. And they really seem to like each other, I know it's weird for you but let them be." Dick tried, he'd been rooting for them since Damian started to ask about how to start a conversation, lines you don't cross, how to tell if a subject is off limits. The first robin prayed to whatever god was out there that his brother would finally see that their dating wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I know." Jason noticed Damian back off when he realized why Jason didn't want them to date, it wasn't just because Damian was an ass, if something ever happened to Damian- Marinette would be a mess and he couldn't stand to see the broken look in her eyes ever again. Jason knew it was a shitty reason, she'd probably be a mess no matter what, but he couldn't help it. He just wanted to protect Marinette. Jason finally knew what to do, but until then he'd let them sleep.

Jason walked out of the room, annoyed- the brat won. Damn their stubbornness. Hopefully it would make Damian more bearable...

Damian woke up with the sun, but for once wanted to stay in bed. He was warm, and a calming, steady breathing tried to lull him back to sleep- wait. Why would he feel someone else's breathing?

Damian's eyes snapped open and scanned the room, he was lying in the living room with a blanket on him and- 'No. No. No. Of all the times to pass out, of all the people-'

Damian's mind went into overdrive trying to remember how he'd gone from sitting with Marinette leaning on him to falling asleep with her. He knew he was dead, but suddenly his mind focused on the even sound of her breathing, she was still sleeping- dead to the world. There was no reason to wake her, so Damian closed his eyes, pulled Marinette closer, and allowed himself to go back to sleep. Enjoying his last moments in the land of the living.

Something made a noise, Damian opened his eyes again. This time Marinette awoke with him, propping herself up on his chest and rubbing her eyes with a tired yawn.

"Good morning." Marinette froze at the sound of Damian's deep, rough, sleep-filled voice as she took in a messy haired, tired Damian. She blushed, hard, morning Damian was officially her favorite Damian.

"D-Damian- w-what happe- did I- I'm so sorry!" Marinette sat up, not thinking about what she was doing. She continued to apologize while Damian panicked, if Jason walked in right now- he'd die for the second time. Breaking the family record, sure, but that certainly wouldn't be worth it. Well... No, not worth it- unless someone brought him back again... No, no, Todd would likely make it painful. Definitely not worth it.

"Marinette-"

"No, this is totally my fault! I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to fall asleep on you, you were probably really uncomfortable with me leaning on you like that!"

"Marinette really it's alri-"

"No, Damian! It's not alright, I- Jay probably got really mad at you, I'll- I'll talk to him make sure he knows it wasn't your fault."

"Marinette?" The Parisian seemed to be done with her ranting and was staring at Damian again, she for some reason, hadn't noticed earlier but Damian wasn't wearing a shirt. In Marinette's sleepy state she just stared unabashedly. Damian's voice seemed to get her attention.

"Perhaps you shouldn't sit like that..." Damian refused to call it what it was. Had he wanted to be more accurate, and he didn't, he would have asked her to stop straddling him.

Marinette froze, blushed, and then started whining in embarrassment. Her head in her hands. Damian was having a difficult time holding back his own blush but was managing alright.

"Marinette?" Damian asked, she peaked out from between her hands and realized she had yet to get off him, finally he sat up on his own and gently pushed her off him. They sat next to each other, Damian refused to look at Marinette in her beautifully flustered state.

Jason walked in with his arms crossed, he leaned against the door-frame.

"Awake are we?" He asked, not expecting an answer, he didn't get one.

"Well, Demon Spawn, let's just say your reputation is effectively ruined. Steph and Selina got more than enough pictures to get even you to blush." The two teenagers refused to look at Jason, he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his annoyance surface.

"I can't even-" Damian waited for the inevitable outburst, for once. " I can't believe I'm fucking doing this- You two were cute or whatever but word of the wise, brat- hurt her and I'll kill you. Got it?" Both teenagers heads snapped up, Marinette blushed. Damian nodded a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

'FINALLY' Was the only thing Damian thought in that moment before he began to plan how to ask her out. He needs to speak to Grayson again, unfortunately.

And with that, their banter and teases began again. This time there was no bribery to keep Damian's siblings quiet and no Jason to stop their kisses. The young couple went on dates, watched movies, laughed at the put off look Damian’s family would have when he said something awkwardly funny. Of course, Jason was still insistent on sibling bonding, stealing Marinette as often as possible- that became their new game: who could get Marinette for the day.

Of course, there were some close calls. Jason had walked in on Damian and Marinette kissing... for an extended period of time... he stood frozen and watched in horror as they made out on a chair in Damian's room, Marinette's hands in Damian's hair with his hands at her hips, keeping her pressed against him as her legs bracketed his hips.

Damian noticed Jason first, immediately pushing away and inwardly cursing. Marinette blushed furiously and had to stop Jason from killing Damian but her messy hair and slightly swollen lips didn't help.

Of course, everyone else thought it was hilarious.

As they say, all good things must come to an end. After three weeks of freedom from her class, their trip finally came to an end and so did Marinette's reunion. By the end of her stay Marinette knew why she'd be okay, from now on she had a family four times as big as before. The Parisian couldn't be happier: she reunited with her brother and has an adoring boyfriend. All she had to do now was survive the last few weeks of the school year before transferring to Mme Mandeleiev's class.

I’m gonna be okay, Marinette thought that to herself as they made their way to the airport. Damian didn't want her to leave, no one did, he held Marinette's hand while she spoke to Jason who promised to visit often.

Everyone hugged her goodbye or said so from a respectful distance before she passed through security and rejoined her class.Both Damian and Jason glared at the class in warning, they still seemed to be reeling from the discovery that the Italian was a liar. People called out to the girl, shouting apologies. Marinette just walked past as if she couldn’t hear a thing. 

And then she was gone. Damian and Jason pouted, they already missed her, luckily summer was right around the corner. They'd get her to visit soon, or if they had to they'd go to Paris.

After all, family is supposed to stick together. And despite their attempts at denying it, they were clingy.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter Seventeen

                     A special thanks to @statell​ for making my stories flow

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Seventeen

Claire was unnerved when she learned of the deliberate interference of the two jockeys. Jamie told her it was an isolated incident of an owner in New Jersey and described Runner’s protectiveness to bolster her courage. He had given in to Claire’s desire to enter the Kentucky Derby, so his demeanor changed, and he became her coach rather than her doubting boyfriend. There was one race in New York before the Derby, and it was an easy win for Runner. The famous Wood Memorial Stakes at Aqueduct Racetrack where the winning horse gained one hundred points and the purse was one million dollars. The whole world would be watching the remaining Derby contenders battle it out.

There would be two weeks between each of the remaining races and Michael adjusted Runner’s supplements to give the additional energy for such a tight racing schedule. This was when the rubber meets the road, he told Claire. There were two or three stakes races each weekend somewhere in the country, where Derby contenders would gain points if they won or wash out if they lost. Everything was in flux right now he told her. It was the most exciting time of the year for horse racing.

When they arrived in New York they were cocky and confident. Runner drew crowds wherever they landed which fueled Claire’s confidence and need to dominate the race. Runner was favored to win and all she had to do is stay in the saddle.

Claire felt nervous waiting for the race to start. She reached for her juice box and granola bar, not sure if it was her blood sugar or her nerves making her feel anxious and shaky. Jamie grabbed her hand to walk her outside where she waved to the yelling spectators before being launched into the saddle. She was feeling a bit better when a track pony brought her to the gate and Runner loaded without an issue.

There were only eight horses in the Wood Memorial Stakes and Runner was coming out of post position two, statistically proven to launch the most winners. Claire was ready to leave everyone in her dust and take home the winner’s cut of the million-dollar prize money and 100 qualifying points.

When the gate opened, Runner jumped into his lane and quickly passed one horse at a time until he was neck and neck with the third-place horse. To Claire, he was conserving his strength until the dash to the finish line. When Runner did not accelerate after the second turn Claire knew something was wrong. He seemed to be giving all he had just to maintain his third position. As the finish line approached, the lead horse was seven lengths ahead and there was no time to catch him. They wouldn’t win, they couldn’t win, and she felt the shock of that truth run through her body.

Claire’s brain turned off the roar of the crowd, and it became silent. It turned off the thundering hooves and all other noise except her own breathing and Runner’s. When she crossed the finish line in third place all the noise came crashing back into her head as Runner slowed to a trot immediately.

It was very hard to comprehend losing the race because she had complete confidence Runner would win. A track pony took her reins and delivered her to the men waiting, all looking grim. Jason walked the big colt until he cooled off and Jamie pulled Claire into the shade. She cried on his shoulder as he reassured her it was just one race, and Runner would be ready for the Derby in two weeks.

Jason noticed Runner tossed his head when the bit moved even slightly from Jason holding the reigns. It was clear he was in pain and Jason got the horse back to Claire right away. Pulling the bridal off hurt so much he reared in protest and refused to open his mouth. Claire grabbed the bridal and put her hand on his neck. She told him to relax, no one would force him and in ten minutes she asked him to open his mouth when he was ready. He finally did and the pain was so obvious Claire winced.

She could feel the fever in his muzzle and chest and felt panic creeping up her spine. When she could finally look in his mouth the giant abscess dropped down from the roof of his mouth the size of a golf ball and full of pus. She realized the bit had rubbed against the pressure and pain throughout the race.

He was given an injection of pain killer and antibiotics by the track veterinarian who helped hold him for Claire to lance the abscess and flush it with Hydrogen Peroxide. It was a very painful procedure, but Claire was fast and thorough alleviating the pressure the instant she cut into the bulging balloon and Runner settled down for the remainder of the procedure.

They all thanked the track vet for his assistance and packed up to fly Runner home. The reporter from Sports Illustrated strolled through the stalls and caught the last few minutes of the surgery. He expected something like this and caught Jason in the aisle telling him to shake Runner’s hay and check the wood chips in his stall for razor blades, pins, or burs. He had seen the near collision of the race in New Jersey and thought it prudent to check for foul play.

Jamie and Claire drove Runner to the airport and explained the abscess and surgery to the handlers. Once Runner was dozing in his transport stall the captain came in and spoke to them running his hand down the colt’s neck. Claire kissed his nose softly and told him to sleep tight.

When they returned to Aqueduct to pick up the guys, both Michael and Jason poured huge sharp burs found in the hay and floor, into Jamie’s hand. There were six burs that drew blood when Jamie pushed his finger into the points. Jamie looked up at the numerous cameras throughout the building and went to find the barn manager.

Before boarding the plane, Jamie called Rupert to warn him they would be picking up a drunk Colt with a sore mouth. Rupert sounded crushed they lost the race but assured Jamie they would be extra gentle with the laddie.

Claire was quiet on the trip back to Kentucky. After checking the foals and Runner she just wanted to go to the house and sit in silence for a while. Jamie kissed her before she got out of his truck and promised to be quick with his chores.

Claire sat on the patio and admired the stars shining brightly above her. She replayed the race, minute by minute, and decided the only reason they did not win was the pain in Runner’s mouth. They all knew from that point forward; Runner would be guarded while away at a race and they would provide their own food and hay. She felt completely exhausted and leaned her head back on the lounge. She would not let this discourage her from the Derby. They had two weeks to heal his mouth and they would be unbeatable again.

Jamie sifted through his mail quickly, wanting to get back home and relax with Claire. He almost missed it, the envelope from the Kentucky racing commission. Thinking he had forgotten one of the many fees required for the Derby he opened the envelope and felt his heart fall into his stomach. He launched from his chair and ran to catch Michael.

“She has raced at Churchill Downs twice, why is this coming up now?” Michael’s face was red and his eyes bugged out. “This is bullshit!”

Jamie looked at the floor. His heart was beating hard enough to give him a heart attack, so he took deep breaths and tried to calm down.

“I don’t know who is behind her disqualification, but I know what to do about it Jamie. Tell Claire I’m on this and to keep the faith. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

The snail’s pace at which Jamie walked from his truck to the house broke land speed records. It was that slow. He would pay any price to keep this information from Claire but there was no way out from this truth. It was still difficult to breathe and he stopped at the garage and bent over to steady himself, before he found Claire and broke her heart.

She was walking somewhere feeling peaceful and happy when a little girl handed her a bouquet of beautiful flowers. She smiled at the girl and thanked her pulling one rose out of the bunch and handing it to her. The sun was so warm, but her cheek was suddenly very cool. Jamie’s hand on her cheek brought her quickly out of her dream and she smiled at him for the nine seconds it took to register the sadness in his eyes. She sat up quickly.

“What is it, Jamie?”

She saw the rims of his eyes, deep red from tears that were coming, and felt alarms going off in her head. She wanted to run and get away from the pain she knew was coming.

“Is it Runner? The foals? Is anyone hurt?”

Jamie grabbed both of her hands and fought his emotion until he could calmly speak. It was no more than a whisper.

“Ye’ve been disqualified from the Derby lass. Your jockey license does not meet the requirements of the track because you’re an apprentice. The Kentucky Horse Racing authority states there is no appealing this ruling. Runner can enter the race with a qualified jockey, but we both know that won’t happen.”

“Jamie?”

He could hear her voice, still strong, still hopeful, and he hated the world at that moment because there were no options.

“I’m sorry, love. Michael said he was on it and left, but the letter is clear, there is no appeal.”

Claire launched out of the lounge, suddenly very awake, fighting the urge to scream about her own helplessness and the cruel forces that stole her dream of winning the Kentucky Derby.

“He is Horse of the Year for Christ’s sake. How can they disqualify him?” She spoke softly like she couldn’t summon the strength for more volume.

Runner is not disqualified, only you sweetheart. When he doesn’t race, the world will be very unkind and make up their own reasons. I found dozens of comments online about the Wood Memorial. People are sayin it’s a fault in his breeding, findin all kinds of other reasons for his loss.

He reached for Claire and she hugged him with the dawning knowledge of what he was losing too. They held each other up until they could walk upstairs and said not another word about it. What could be said?

Runner’s mouth healed with no more sign of infection by the following week. He repeatedly tried to engage Claire, but she was in her own head and quiet with everyone else in the barn. She just didn’t have anything to say. Each morning brought her one day closer to the most famous race in the history of horse racing and she couldn’t go. She couldn’t get the knot out of her stomach or concentrate on anything else but the race she would miss. The town was energized with the upcoming festivities that were broadcast from radio shows and city news continuously. It was enough to drive her mad, so she just shut down.

Michael never came back after the night he read the commission’s letter. He said he would fix this and then vanished. It felt like the final insult to Jamie, but reminded himself that Michael was here to write the story of Midnight Runner, and if he didn’t enter the Derby there wasn’t much to write about.

Jamie and the other guys tried to pull Claire out of her funk until she begged them to let her be. She apologized for being moody and promised to bounce back if they would just leave her alone. She promised Jamie she would feel better when the race was over and then went back into her head.

The last foal dropped on Thursday night. Claire delivered the filly late at night with Jamie’s assistance. The Derby was two days away. When she tried to smile at him the corners of her mouth quivered a bit and he could plainly see she felt no smile on the inside.

Jamie set up his cot near the stalls and went to find Claire. He almost missed her standing behind Runner who was still as a statue and very awake.

“Sassenach?”

He pulled her to him and she sobbed like her very life was draining away. All he could do is hold her and pull her to his cot so he could wrap himself around her. When he heard the steady breathing of his sleeping love, he said the Gaelic prayer for courage, strength, and love. He said it for her so she could find her happiness when this nightmare was over. He slept little so she would feel his grip on her through the night. His wounded love.

The next morning, the big doors opened with a crash bringing both Jamie and Claire to their feet in seconds. Both blinking against the morning light wondering what catastrophe had befallen them now.

“Jamie! Jamie!! Go find him squirt and hurry. Jamie, goddammit, where are you?!”

“What the devil is this about?” Jamie growled at Michael, “what’s happened to ye?”

“I have been pounding on your front door for thirty minutes. Finally decided you were already here. Where the hell is Claire? Me and Jason will be twiddling our thumbs out there waiting for our rider. We have some work to do, so where is she?”

“What are ye doin Michael? There is no more racin and I’m sure ye remember that.”

Claire sat on the cot and listened with little interest in Michael’s ranting.

“Oh, sorry, what the fuck is wrong with me? Here.”

Jamie took the new license and studied the signature from the racing authority. It was a Journeyman’s license and looked legitimate but that was impossible.

“What trickery is this Michael?”

“No tricks, promise. The journeyman license has requirements for races, time in the saddle, experience on the track and with other horses, among other things. Poor Claire had no handlers to workout the Colt because he wouldn’t allow it. Consequently, she logged enough hours in the saddle, on the track, and in the race to qualify for Journeyman.”

Jamie stared at the license waiting for it to suddenly turn to dust and blow away. “How did ye do it?”

Michael smiled at Jamie, “the governor’s dad and my old man go way back. I grew up around their family and the governor himself was my babysitter on several occasions. It took a week and a half to see him, but I told him about Claire and Runner, the unique circumstances of their partnership, I avoided the whole talking to animals thing. I told him they deserve a space in the gate tomorrow. He agreed and we met with the Kentucky Horse Racing Authority and figured out how she could qualify for a Journeyman’s license. That is how I did it.”

The men saw Claire run by them like a streak. Ten minutes later she was pulling her helmet on and walking toward them with a beautiful blush in her cheeks.

“I love you Michael and I have the rest of my life to thank you, but right now we need to ride. The race starts in twenty-eight hours, let’s go.”

Claire was off toward Runner’s stall and came racing back to kiss Jamie hard and show him a brilliant smile.

“We run for the roses tomorrow, just like we planned, my precious love.” Then she was gone, leaving a smiling Rupert and Angus in her wake.

Jamie stood rooted to the ground, shaking his head and enjoying the moment. There would be time to panic trackside tomorrow, this was too good to ruin. He decided at that moment to host a celebration, tomorrow night, win or lose it would celebrate the perseverance and dedication of a phenomenal woman and horse. One way or another he would see it done.

Michael watched Runner with excitement. The rest made him a bit hot, but he used the energy for speed and Claire could hardly keep him breezing. It was a great workout and Michael told Claire she would be in the money tomorrow with him running like that.

“Actually Michael, I plan to win tomorrow but thank you for the good wishes.”

When Jamie finally got Claire into bed that night, she seemed tired enough to sleep filling him with relief. The enormity of the race tomorrow was mind-boggling to him. Of the billions of people in the world, only twenty-two are chosen each year to compete on a track of superstar Thoroughbreds. Because the Derby was open only to three-year-olds, those horses that didn’t make the cut lost the opportunity forever. Jamie held her close until her breathing became deep and even. He stopped thinking and dropped into the void.

Jamie’s sleep became fitful later in the night and he turned to hold his Sassenach only to find an empty bed. It took a while to find her and he approached quietly and listened to her grill Runner while she paced the aisle. He could see Porcelain’s big eyes watching Claire, and Runner, like a new recruit standing at attention. She looked like a funny little commander pacing in her robe and slippers and Jamie’s chuckle made her stop and look up.

“Suppose ye let Runner sleep a bit before the big race mo chridhe. I’m lonely for ye.”

The Kentucky Derby is a race like no other as people come from all over the world in their finery and decorative hats to witness the race and socialize. One hundred fifty thousand spectators fill every seat, inside and out, including celebrities from movie stars to Saudi princes. The infield is a giant party for the who’s who and a bank of photographers sit patiently along the side of the track. The event is bigger than the Super Bowl or the World Series, all steeped in history and tradition.

Claire was overwhelmed by the enormity of the event and found it hard to focus on the horses she would have to beat. When she was ready to mount for the parade and warm-up, Jamie stopped her and whispered in her ear.

“This is a once in a lifetime race for both of ye Sassenach, so feel every minute of it. Just gettin here means yer a winner so be proud of him and yerself lass and know how much I love ye.” He kissed her softly, “one more thing, the colt runs like a fat cow. Tell him I said so.”

Claire’s lead pony was waiting and pulled Runner’s reins to wrap around the horn of his saddle. When Runner started to act up, he would pull his head to the pony’s to settle him down. Claire was released to warm up and she looked at the staggering amount of people and felt the deafening noise they were making. She hoped Runner would relax a bit and stay in a safe range with all this noise, and color.

Runner was hot as they ponied to the gate. He was ready to explode from high-calorie food all week and too much rest. There was some acting out getting loaded into the gate as he reared up and told them to leave him alone. Claire waved the handlers back and asked them to let him load without the manhandling. He felt tense waiting for the bell and Claire willed the doors to slam open so she could direct all his extra energy. Each minute seemed like an hour.

Claire wrapped Runner's mane through her fingers and prepared to get off his back. She had spent several hours talking to him about winning by the space between him and the next horse, trying to make him understand it was not only beating the individual horses that mattered. Runner was looking for Sham and Angle Light, making Claire nervous about him acting up before they could get out of the gate.

“Jamie said you run like a fat cow. Just sayin”

The doors slammed open in the next minute and twenty-one horses made a mad dash for the track. When Runner jumped out, she could feel his extra energy and she watched for the best way through the mess of horses ahead.

Runner was doing little more than keeping pace with the pack until the first turn when he broke to the outside and picked up his speed. He stayed on the outside down the backstretch passing horses, one after the other. He overtook the pack and headed for the front seven horses. Claire could see Sham was in third place coming out of the second turn and they were still five horses behind him. Runner was increasing his speed and she tucked tight going into the home stretch. She watched horse after horse fade away in a blur as Runner accelerated toward the lead horse. He didn’t dawdle and run neck and neck like he usually did, it was all business today as she felt him accelerate one last time.

The noise from the crowd, the thundering hooves, and the loudspeaker barking the positions of the horses, all went away. Claire knew they were lengths ahead of the other horses and stretched her arms to allow the maximum lengthening of Runner’s stride. She watched the finish line come closer, scared shitless another horse would zoom past her and take the glory. She couldn’t help herself from yelling at Runner to hurry. The finish line was five feet ahead and she felt his front legs reach forward like in slow motion and saw the flash of the camera. She turned her head to the left and saw no other horse. She turned her head to the right and saw no other horse.

Claire was not processing anything during the next minute. She was trying to slow Runner down and looking around her at the other horses and jockeys sporadically spaced. So the race was over and I don’t know what to do now, she thought. As she came around the turn she saw Jamie and Michael jumping as high as they could and pointing at her. She started crying when she looked at Jamie. She could read his lips and see his incredible face. Jamie says I won, she thought and in the next second the deafening noise of the crowd came back and she heard the announcer say “the winner, Midnight Runner, by three lengths.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Runner! You won, you won!! You won the Kentucky Derby!! Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, we just won the Kentucky Derby! She pulled on his mouth to slow him down and stood triumphantly in her stirrups, crop held high, rubbing her sleeve over her eyes to see the crowd through her gushing tears. When Runner had slowed to a trot, she found the governor who had abandoned his fancy observation box to get closer to the track.

Claire pulled Runner to a stop in front of the governor and unsnapped her helmet. Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely manage, but she pulled off her helmet in a salute as her tears flowed down her dirty cheeks. Her eyes locked with his for a brief moment and he nodded to her and smiled.

“Your team is busting at the seams Claire, let’s get you to the winner’s circle.”

Her favorite handler and his pony guided Runner to the incredulous faces of Jamie, Michael, and Jason. Claire tried to stop crying as they draped Runner in the garland of roses. Claire felt every moment like it was a sole event and smiled through her tears at the camera followed by a bank of cameras that flashed continuously. Runner was a stunning gentleman, watching the weird goings-on of the people all around him. He was telling them all that he was the fastest horse but only Claire heard him. She dropped her body down on his neck, “you are the greatest horse that ever lived.”

When Claire sat back in her saddle the reporters asked what she just said to the horse, making her laugh. When she slid into Jamie’s arms there were cameras flashing and questions shouted. As she hugged each man on her team the cameras caught it all. They were clamoring for her attention until she walked over to Runner and placed her cheek against his head so she could thank him. The reporters were suddenly quiet but the air around them flashed continuously and didn’t stop.

The reporters were pressing in making Claire feel like she couldn’t breathe. Jamie tried to steer her away, but she gave a look that said she was fine to stay. She just won the Kentucky Derby, after all, the first woman in history. She could stay for a while.

It was many interviews and hours later before they had Runner packed up and loaded into the trailer. Claire was so high she had trouble feeling her feet as she walked, and her smile looked as permanent as Jamie’s.

Jamie and Claire walked toward Runner’s wing and Jamie held her hand to make sure she didn’t get away. When they turned the corner a table had been set up next to the stalls and a crowd of people stood up and said surprise! One by one, her friends gave hugs and congratulations. Michael, Jason, the governor, racing commissioner, Molly, Lulu, Angus and Rupert. The people kept coming and Claire saw a blonde head at the end of the table sitting next to Molly. She kept watching that direction as she hugged more and more people. When the hugging stopped, Molly stood up and pulled the arm of the blonde until he stood up.

And there he was.

Dusty blushed crimson as he approached and hugged his dearest friend. Claire was completely overwhelmed by this and refused to let him go. It was a hug worth a whole year to both of them and Claire cried with happiness. Dusty shook hands with Jamie and the barn personnel he remembered, checking his watch every other minute. When they all sat down to eat a catered dinner arranged the night before by Jamie, Dusty was gone and Claire’s heart sank.

“Molly, where is Dustin?”

“He is coming right back, maybe thirty minutes. He has something important to do.”

Molly’s voice was relaxed and nonchalant, so Claire dropped it and fed her ravenous hunger stealing kisses from Jamie between bites. The governor and commissioner nibbled a bit and excused themselves from the party. Claire shook both their hands and with tears rolling down her cheeks, again, she thanked them from the bottom of her heart.

Returning to the table she had five minutes to relax before Dusty walked back in, holding the hand of a tiny girl with long blonde hair and big blue eyes. She was introduced as Dusty’s wife and Claire shot out of her chair to hug the stuffing out of her while Dusty laughed. It was quite a shock to everyone but Molly who had become Dusty’s dear friend over the hours and hours of phone calls. Molly knew Dusty’s story, from his heartbreaking love for Claire, through his lonely months at school when he wanted to quit, to his new found love. It was Molly who pulled him through and encouraged him to approach the girl named Summer.

Claire looked from Dusty to Summer with a brilliant smile. “You two look like shiny new pennies.”

“And they both have a 4.0!” Molly added.

After much food and drink the stories started and each of Claire’s good friends had something hilarious to tell, including Jamie who recounted Claire’s drunk phone call a very long time ago. Molly and Lulu were complicit with their giggling. Dustin told them all how he toppled Claire’s yoga position by honking his horn and had to speak to her cowboy boots when she did a headstand where she fell.

Claire watched Dustin talk, smile, and remember a day in their life together a long time ago. She was so proud of him and couldn’t wait to catch up on every single moment of his life during the past year. Deep down she knew, had always known, what kept him away and she was so happy he found such a perfect partner to share his life with.

The caterers were cleaning up and carrying everything to their van. On the last trip, they brought an enormous cake with sparklers all over it. Claire was crying again when she read “Kentucky Derby Winner” and below that, “1st woman in history.” She walked over to Runner and pressed her face into his neck, thanking him for making her a winner, just like he promised so many months before. She was seeing sugar cubes in her mind and laughed at his hopeful face before running to Jamie’s office to get handfuls for the most amazing horse that ever lived. Her best four-legged friend.

[notstars-doors]

What Are Friends For?

~~~~

Dick manages to send Wally a weak smile before the speedster is gathering the younger man up in his arms in a tight hug.

“Hey…”

Dick melts into Wally’s touch, letting out a deep sigh against his shoulder and curling both arms around his waist. “Hi…”

“You okay?”

“Not really.”

“You want a burrito?”

~~~~

Fluffy little fic about Dick and Wally being the weird, cuddly best friends that should really figure out that they're in love.

read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860538

dickhead: dude u awake

kid idiot: yeah man

kid idiot: why tf are you tho

dickhead: who r u talking to rn

Wally rolls his eyes, tossing the controller down beside him on the bedsheets and rolling over onto his back to pay better attention to his phone. It’s after midnight in Palo Alto, but it’s a Friday night and he finished his lecture notes earlier. He’s half expecting his best friend to roast him not going out on a Friday, but midterms just finished, and he’s wiped. All Wally wants to do is sleep, but dammit he’s been doing nothing but writing papers and taking exams for the last three weeks, he’s gonna stay up late and play some video games if he wants to.

kid idiot: true

kid idiot: still man, what time is there rn

dickhead: 4:36

Wally sighs, frowning up at the bright screen. If Dick’s sleep schedule didn’t kill him, Wally would just for staying up this late. The poor guy needs rest more than most people.

kid idiot: dude go to BED

dickhead: cant sleep

dickhead: can u come over

He blinks, the question throwing him for a second. Then he’s on his feet. Usually when Dick asks for Wally’s company like this, without beating around the bush, he’s having a bad time. The fact that it’s 4am in Gotham and Dick isn’t on patrol probably means it’s worse than usual.

He’s halfway through tugging on a pair of jeans over his boxers when his phone buzzes again.

dickhead: can i come over****

dickhead: sorry

dickhead: its ok if ur busy

Wally bites his lip, taking in a deep breath through the nose. His chest hurts with worry and all he wants to do is run over to Gotham and hug his best friend. But Dick probably wants the time it’ll take to use the Zeta beam to compose himself. Which is dumb because Wally could be there in two minutes and has seen him like this a million times before. But he knows that Dick needs the time.

Sometimes Wally wishes he didn’t know his best friend so well.

kid idiot: dude of course you can

kid idiot: nothing to be sorry for. meet you at the zeta in ten?

dickhead: ok

Wally tugs on the rest of his clothes in a few seconds, tripping over an untied shoelace as he slips out of his room into the dark hallway. The apartment he shares with a few other students is quiet, most of them either asleep or out partying. Dick chose a good night to visit.

He’s pacing in front of the seemingly-decrepit phonebooth for about eight minutes before the light of the zeta beam signals Dick’s arrival and the 18-year-old is stepping out. Wally’s heart sinks when he takes in the sight of his friend.

Dick’s hair is rumpled, which isn’t all to unfamiliar when he’s Robin - no, Nightwing now – but as Dick Grayson it can be an odd sight to see if you aren’t used to it. He’s usually the picture of composure. Tonight, however, Wally can see the dark circles under his eyes, even in the fading light of the streetlamps. His duffle bag is slung over a slumped shoulder, one hand in his jacket pocket.

Dick manages to send Wally a weak smile before the speedster is gathering the younger man up in his arms in a tight hug.

“Hey…”

Dick melts into Wally’s touch, letting out a deep sigh against his shoulder and curling both arms around his waist. “Hi…”

“You okay?”

“Not really.”

“You want a burrito?”

Dick chokes out a laugh, and Wally smiles at the sensation of Dick’s rumbling chest against his own.

“Do you ever stop thinking about food?”

“Hey, I’m thinking about you! Burritos always make me feel better when I’m down, I thought you might be hungry.”

Dick pushes away from Wally, shaking his head but unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re an idiot.”

Wally grins. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick shrugs his duffle bag more securely onto his shoulder. “I guess I could go for some pizza?”

“Pizza it is!” Wally slings an arm around Dick’s shoulder again and guides him out of the alley into the main street ahead; if he knows anything about Dick Grayson, it’s that the best treatment option is always constant physical contact. “You wait, Palo Alto has the best pizza.”

Dick snorts, poking Wally in the ribs, but very obviously not objecting to the arm still around him. “Liar. You’ve had Chicago pizza, you know that’s not true.”

Wally wags his index finger in front of Dick’s face. “No-no, my friend, this city has changed my pizza opinions. Seriously, just wait.”

Dick chuckles quietly but doesn’t object. Which isn’t the best sign. No banter is a bad sign.

The two find their way to a 24-hour pizzeria around the corner from Wally’s apartment, Dick ordering a slice of pepperoni and Wally taking the last three-quarters of a deluxe. It’s not long until they’re tip-toeing back into Wally’s building, creeping through the apartment until they’re back in his room.

“Alright, that’s pretty good pizza.” Dick finally admits, polishing off the last piece of crust and sucking some tomato sauce off his thumb.

“Right?” Wally gestures vaguely, speaking through a mouthful of his own last slice.

Dick looks a little brighter, having just eaten some fantastic pizza and settled comfortably against his best friend’s side, but he’s still not the bouncing ball of energy that Wally is accustomed to being around. So, it’s time to get to the bottom of this.

Wally finishes the last few bites of his pizza, then slings an arm back around Dick’ shoulders. Dick tucks his head in against Wally’s collarbone, who then rests his cheek against soft black hair as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“So, what’s goin’ on, little bird?”

Dick huffs at the nickname but doesn’t comment. He’s quiet for a while, probably trying to pull his thoughts together into something coherent, so Wally just waits. Their legs are tangled together on the bedsheets, barely any space between them, and Wally can feel the tension in every one of Dick’s muscles. The guy is wound like a clock, always ready to spring into action. Not that Wally doesn’t know what that feels like, but he hadn’t grown up with the World’s Greatest Paranoid.

As if on cue, Dick takes a deep breath. “Bruce and I had a fight.”

Wally closes his eyes in frustration and tries not to have a bodily reaction to the admission, but he knows he’s failed when Dick slumps against him even more. “…again?”

“Yeah.”

“What was it about this time?”

“Um.” He fidgets against Wally’s side, clamping his lips together for a moment until- “You.”

Wally blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh… Why?”

“He doesn’t…” Dick pauses, letting out a sigh of frustration, bringing his hands up to rub the heels of his palms into his eyes. “He doesn’t understand why I… need you around…”

Wally looks up at the ceiling in confusion, as if the peeling paint could answer the questions banging around in his head. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Dick huffs out another sigh, then sits up abruptly, detangling himself from Wally and moving to face him in a cross-legged position. “I don’t know! He just said something about having too much dependency on you and how that can compromise my ‘emotional integrity’ and I need to have ‘distance’ and all this other bullshit.”

He spits out the last word with so much venom that Wally’s taken aback. Dick never talks about Bruce like this, no matter how angry he’s been with him. He’s always had some modicum of respect for his mentor, but it sounds like Bruce really hit a nerve with this one.

“He’s just… so fucking frustrating these days. It’s like talking to a brick wall.” Dick’s running his hands through his hair in distress. “I mean, it used to be like talking to a very sturdy door with like seven different locks, but at least that had some give to it. Now it’s like… he’s just… he’s different, since Jason.”

They both go silent for a moment, the room suddenly filled with such poignant presence it’s almost like the boy is in there with them. Wally slings his leg over Dick’s own crossed legs, and Dick lays a grateful hand on his knee in response.

“I just… I don’t think he understands how different we are as people.” Dick’s shoulders slump again, all self-righteous anger rushing out of him in one swift motion. “He’s never needed people, even with me and Alfred, and even Jason around. He’s never wanted to need people, he doesn’t get what its like…”

Wally purses his lips. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Dick blinks, looking at his friend in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Wally sighs, sitting up a little straighter against the headboard, crossing his legs underneath him. “I mean, I don’t think it’s true that he doesn’t need people. I don’t know Bruce was well as you do, Dick, but… I mean, you don’t see the way he looks at you.”

There’s more silence after that. Dick is contemplating. Wally just waits.

“How… what do you mean?”

“Dick… Bruce loves you.” Wally shakes his head and reaches out, taking Dick’s hand in his. “He’s… he’s your dad. He needs you just as much as you need him. Sometimes he’ll look at you and it’s like… like you’re made of porcelain or something. It’s never when you’re looking, because he knows you’d hate it. I think… I think he’s just afraid of losing you.”

Dick leans forward and rests his forehead against Wally’s chest. “Then why is he being like this?”

“Maybe it’s easier for him to push you away?”

“Easier than what?”

“Than you not needing him anymore.”

Wally can feel Dick screwing up his face, like he’s trying to hold back tears. “I’m always gonna need him, Walls…”

“I know that. But does he?”

It’s a while before Dick even moves, let alone continues the conversation. After a minute of silence, Wally lifts a hand to start rubbing small circles into his lower back. Dick relaxes into the touch but doesn’t respond in any other way. He just sits there, his head against Wally’s chest. He’s crossed-legged and bent forward in a really weird way, but that stopped bothering Wally a long time ago.

Finally, Dick sits up and away from Wally. He’s quiet for another minute, and Wally is prepared for a few more moments of silence, until Dick lifts his head. With the slight amount of moonlight shining in through the window, Wally can just about make out the tear tracks running down his cheeks.

“Dick…”

Wally doesn’t even think about it. It’s just instinct to reach out and wipe a thumb along the edge of his friend’s jaw, to catch the stray bit of wetness still lingering there. His skin is soft, even covered in tears, and Wally doesn’t think anything of it. They’re always touchy, always have been. It’s just the way they’ve always needed to be.

He barely notices the change in Dick’s expression: the look in his eyes that’s desperate and needy and just a little bit wild, before a sudden pair of soft, salty, tear-stained lips are pressed against his own and he’s being kissed by his best friend.

Wally doesn’t react. Sort of. His body just kind of freezes and his eyes go wide and his hands raise up (god knows why), but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t think his body knows how to.

The kiss doesn’t last long. Maybe five seconds, tops, until Dick seems to realize what he’s doing and moves away very quickly. He slaps his hand over his mouth, either in shock or just from the feeling, and then they’re just staring at each other in confusion. No disgust or anger, just mild confusion. And a strange dawning sensation.

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…”

“…new.”

“Mhm.”

Wally realizes his arms are still in the air, so he drops them back down onto his knees. Still staring at Dick, though, who’s looking back at him like a deer in headlights at this point. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He’s just… confused… and now Dick is biting his lower lip and Wally can’t do anything but stare at that and that’s weird cuz he’s never done that before and whyishestaringatDick’slipsthatsaweirdthingtodobutsoiskissing yourbestfriendandDickjustdidthatsomaybehe’stheweirdoneinthissituationbutitwasn’tthatweirdsowhyishefreakingoutrightnowheshouldn’tbefreakingoutit’sjustDickandDickisDicksoitshouldn’tbeweirdbutisitevenweirdorjustdifferent-

“-lly… Wally!”

Wally blinks, and suddenly Dick’s face is really close to his and the guy’s hands are on his shoulders and wow he’s like a furnace, when did he get so hot? Not like that hot, like warm hot, ‘cause Dick’s always been hot hot, and whoa where did that come from?

“Are you okay?”

“Um.”

Dick sighs. His big blue eyes are wide and concerned and looking directly into Wally’s and jesus when did they get so blue?  “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

“Dude…”

“No, I know you’re not… I was just emotional and you’re my best friend and I think I just had a weird… need… I shouldn’t have just-“

“Dude.”

“-done that without your permission, I’m sorry, I won’t-“

“DICK!” Wally grabs Dick by the shoulders, the same way his friend is holding him, and shakes him just a little to stop the rambling.

Dick sucks in a gasp of air and bites down on his lower lip again. He’s looking up at Wally like he did the night he told him about his family, about Bruce, about his whole life. Like he’s scared. Like he’s expecting Wally to bolt and wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Wally just stares down at his lips again, still not understanding what’s so damn fascinating about them, until he’s reaching up and watching his own thumb pull Dick’s lower lip out from under his teeth and gently run along the chapped skin.

And then it’s clear.

Dick lets out the softest puff of air and Wally can feel it on his fingers and then he’s looking into those big baby blue’s with a question that only Dick could ever know he’s asking. Then those baby blue’s are disappearing behind fluttering closed eyelids and he’s kissing his best friend.

And… it’s magic.

That’s the only way he can describe it. It’s like it just… fits. Like this was always where they were going, and they were idiots to think they were just friends. Best friends. Touchy, handsy, lovey-dovey, emotionally-secure Best Friends.

Fuck, they were so stupid.

Dick’s hands are still on his shoulders, but Wally’s have moved to gently cup Dick’s face and pull him a bit closer. Their mouths are closed. It’s barely a brush of the lips, both of them just a little too scared to push it any further. But it’s still like fireworks and Wally thinks his heart is about to burst out of his chest, but that’s too cliché, so instead he just starts to fucking vibrate.

Dick breaks the kiss with a laugh, his eyes opening to look up at Wally in a mixture of amusement and adoration that’s just about giddying, so Wally starts to giggle in response, because everything is ridiculous and still manages to make sense, because it’s Dick and it always has been.

Suddenly they’re tumbling over sideways in a tangle of limbs and laughter, and it’s the most natural thing in the world. They’ve got both arms around each other now and whether they’re breathless from the kiss or the laughter, neither of them will ever know, but it’s wonderful.

“Well, that’s certainly one way to cheer a guy up.”

Wally’s still chuckling, but the comment makes him snort out a few more giggles, his abdomen aching in the best way from the exertion. “You can say that again.”

Dick rolls onto his side in Wally’s arms, resting his cheek on his shoulder. Wally turns his head to look at him, knowing Dick would just stare at the side of his face until he did. “So…”

“So…?”

“So, what now?”

Wally purses his lips, looking down at his friend – wait, could he still say that? – in mild amusement. “I dunno, man, this was your idea.”

Dick’s jaw drops, and Wally does his best not to break down into giggles again. “It was not! You’re the one who touched my face!”

“I’m always touching your face, you’re the one who decided to get all up into mine.”

“I was not! It just happened!”

“’It just happened.’ ”

“It did! Don’t mock me, you jerk, where do you ge-”

In a split-second Wally leans over to kiss Dick again, just to see if it shuts him up, and when he pulls away he discovers that it does.

“Like that?”

Dick blinks, his mouth a little open in shock from the kiss and Wally realizes that his mouth had been open when he kissed him. Well, that’s even newer.

“…yeah.”

They’re quiet again for a bit. Wally lifts a hand to brush a few stray hairs out of Dick’s eyes. He’s done it a million times before, but now it feels different. Everything feels different. In a matter of minutes everything between him and his best friend had changed.

Except, it hadn’t.

And now Wally’s not really sure where he stands.

“Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“You’re mine, too, Walls.”

“This doesn’t… this doesn’t change that, right?”

Dick looks up at him, and this time his gaze is calculating. Like he’s trying to solve a problem. “Not unless you want it to.”

Wally shakes his head immediately, then reconsiders. “I mean… You’re always gonna be my best friend, no matter what.”

“Same here, man.”

“But… we can still be best friends and… do that, right? ‘Cause…. ‘cause I think I wanna do that more.”

Dick smiles. “Kiss?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“And still be best friends?”

“Dude, yes. Of course. Those are the best kinds of best friends.”

Wally smiles back now, pressing his forehead against Dick’s. “Okay.”

His best friend in the world curls an arm around his waist, like he’s done so many times before, and pulls him closer. “We don’t have to talk about this right now, Wally. We can just… enjoy it. We can figure everything else out later.”

“That sounds good.”

Dick chuckles and closes his eyes, relaxing against Wally’s chest in a way that’s both familiar and entirely new. It’s nice.

Wally grabs the blanket that been bunched up behind him and yanks it over top of them both, snuggling in for a good night’s rest that he figures neither of them have had for a while. Then he remembers the reason they were here in the first place.

“Hey Dick?”

“…hm?”

He’s falling asleep already.

“You feeling better?”

Dick blinks his eyes open, lids heavy, then nods with a tired smile.

“I think so. Thanks, Walls.”

Wally smiles in return, snuggling lower into the blankets and nudging his nose gently against Dick’s.

“Hey, what are best friends for?”

[arkhamsdarkestknight]

Just Need Comfort

Characters: Jason Todd (Red Hood), Reader (You). Requested by: Anonymous. Synopsis: Jason comforts batsis after batman is dissapointed in her. Warnings: A/N: Y/N = Your Name. I'm feeling really dissapointed in my writing lately. Hope you like it! REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Tags: @lastbeliever ------------------------------------ Jason sighed and felt his heart break when arrived at his apartment. You were sat outside his door, knees tucked into your chest and your head buried in your arms, and a backpack at your side. He coughed. Your head shot up and he was met by red ringed eyes and splotchy cheeks. "Can I stay here tonight?" You croaked. *** Jason handed you a coffee and which you nodded your head as a thank you and sniffed, grabbing a tissue from your pocket. Jason rested his hands on the bench in the dimly lit kitchen and stared at you intently. You sighed and held the steaming mug to your lips, "I don't want to talk about it," you took a sip, "not right now." "That's okay," he said, "I'll wait." You looked at him graciously and resumed your silence, staring around the dark apartment, street lights outside the window and the occasional sound of car driving by. "What's in the backpack?" He asked. "Clothes." You stated. "So, you're running away and wanted to say goodbye." "I'm not running away!" Your head snapped in his direction, your eyes wide and alarmed. "I just-I just need somewhere to stay for a bit. Away from him." "What happened?" He squeezed your hand in reassurance, "your favourite gun-weilding vigilante is here to listen." He smiled. "Thanks." You lips curled upwards, slightly. Jason eyed you expectantly, expecting an explanation for why you arrived on his doorstep at 5AM. "Can I just have a hug first?" He nodded with a tight-lipped smile and walked around the bench to you. You stayed on the stool while he wrapped his arms around you and cradled your head against his chest. You squeezed him and he hissed. "Are you okay?" You panicked. "Yeah. Just got a nasty kick to the side. A fractured rib. No big deal. Just, don't squeeze too tight." He laughed. You two stayed in silence for a while before you decided to start speaking. "I-I dissapointed him," you cried, tears slowly building up and sliding down your cheeks, "I stuffed up and I dissapointed him." Your lip trembled. "You wouldn't be the first and you won't be the last." You stifled a laugh. "But, you didn't see how he was. He removed his cowl and his face, it was so-" your hands were balled up into fists. "Ssh." Jason stroked your hair. "It's okay. Take your time. You can stay here as long as you need." Jason reached for his phone and started dialing. "What are you doing?" You grabbed his wrist. "I've just got to tell him. He may be dissapointed in you, but he still cares about you. He reminds me of the same thing everyday." Jason mumbled the last part. He held the phone to his ear and the screen notified that Bruce had answered. "Yeah. Yeah, she's here." Jason walked away to out of ear reach and you only could pick up a few words. "-she's hurt-", "-nicer-", "-don't make the same mistakes-", "-it's not the same-". Your hand slipped when you reached for your coffee and the mug shattered against the tiles. Jason's eyes shot in your direction, glowing in the dark thanks to the streetlights. He said something and hung up the phone, strolling over to you and immediately picking up the large pieces of glass. "I'm sorry." "It's okay. Go take a shower or a bath. I'll clean this, you deal with your nerves." You carefully got off the stool and tiptoed to the bathroom. "Y/N?" Jason called after you and you turned around. "Yeah?" "He's really sorry." You wiped away a tear and nodded, forcing a smile onto your face. "Thank you, Jason."

[riverdaleromances]

Loving you - Jughead x Betty //Breakup

Words: 2501

Warnings: ANGSTY ANGST MY FRIENDS (I tried my best) and like I swear!

2 hours. I had spent the better half of two hours circling the block that encased my boyfriend’s temporary two story home, knowing full well that he was inside probably munching on a pizza with his best bud Archie.

Thoughts tumbled around inside my head like a washing machine, wild and unruly. I had so many questions whirling around that I just couldn’t answer, not yet.

You see, I was in love. I was hopelessly, unimaginably, definitely in love and I had absolutely no clue how to tell Jughead. You would think it would be easy, telling my boyfriend I was in love but honestly, it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

Jughead and I tell each other everything and when I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING. Juggie told me how his dad came home every night wasted beyond belief balling his eyes out about how his wife and daughter left him and I told him about the darkness I feel inside of me that’s overwhelming at times and makes me do scary things. We have no secrets between us.

We are Jughead and Betty, Romeo and Juliet, so why is it so hard to tell my boyfriend, my little Juggie that I’m in love.

Pacing outside the picked white fence I began to psych myself up and told myself to quit delaying the inevitable and just do it. Just do it Betty, it won’t be that bad! Will it?

Smoothing out my pastel pink dress and tightening my signature ponytail, I take a deep breath and begin my way towards the front door of Archie Andrews house.

Each step closer felt like I was walking on rusty nails. My breathing became rough and uneven and I was sweating profusely but I couldn’t stop myself. My mind had lost all control and my body was taking me where I need to go.

At least someone knows that this needs to be done I thought to myself as I took the final step towards my inevitable doom.

Raising my hand, I balled my fingers into a tight fist and paused. Taking a slow breath, I knocked ever so quietly and waited for an answer. I unbaled my fist to reveal crescent shaped indents in the palms of my milky hands, blood beginning to spill from the moon shaped wounds.

Before I had time to even register what was happening, the door swung open to reveal Jughead clad in his signature crown beanie and ‘S’ t-shirt laughing at whatever his masculine redheaded friend had said moments before.

“Hey Betty, I didn’t expect to see you tonight!” Jughead smiled, wrapping his arms around my tiny frame. I breathed in his rich scent and gripped him as tight as I could as if I was afraid to let go. In a way, I kinda was.

Letting go, my eyes found themselves trailing the ground below, too scared to look up and face the scene in front of me.

“Betty, what’s wrong?” Jughead asked, his voice laced in genuine concern. God why is this so hard!? Just tell him already! I looked up to see that Jughead was staring straight at me with a look that could kill. I could tell he was stressed about my sudden quietness but I couldn’t help it, this whole situation was new to me!

“Look,” He started, placing two fingers under my chin and slowly lifting it to look at him. “How about we go inside and we can talk this out okay?” He offered sweetly.

I turned my head away and looked down at the floor. “No, no we can’t. Archie’s inside and I couldn’t bare for him to hear this!” I whispered suddenly aware that Archie could hear everything being said between Jughead and I.

“Okay, I’ll shut the door and then we can talk!” Jughead offered, giving Archie a sombre look and shutting the door softly.

Suddenly the air between Jughead and I felt too thin and we were too close together, I had to step back, I needed space!

Taking a few steps back I finally felt like I could breathe again. It’s time Betty. Just tell him how you feel and deal with the repercussions later. You can do this!

Giving myself the pep talk I needed, I was ready to tell Jughead just how I’m feeling. “Betty, you know you can tell me anything, yeah? I am always here for you, you know that!” Jughead says kindly as he takes off his jumper and places it over my quivering shoulders.

I had been so focused on rehearsing every little detail of this conversation in my mind that I hadn’t even realised I was freezing. He’s so considerate, bless his little soul. Wrapping my arms around myself, I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and begin.

“I know Jug, I know. I do have something to tell you though.” I looked up at him and saw a miniscule smile plastered on his usually brooding face, it was nice.

“God why is this so hard!” I cried! He was just staring into my soul with this innocent look that normally drives me crazy in a good way but tonight it just drives me crazy! Jughead could tell that I was struggling so he didn’t push and just waited until I was ready.

“We have been through so much Juggie. Jason’s death, the register, your family, my family, just everything has been so intense recently and I guess we just needed something, anything to keep us grounded. And that happened to be each other,” I started tears brimming in my eyes as my mind is flooded with memories of everything we have been through together. The good, the bad and the ugly.

“I’ve spent the last few days mulling over just exactly how I should start this conversation and I’ve come to the conclusion that I just need to say it because it’s been eating away at me for weeks!” I laugh as Jugheads eyes light up at the mention of eating.

“Betty, what is it? You’re really starting to scare me know!” Jughead pleaded. God this must be killing him, just do it Betty! Put the poor guy out of his misery!

“I’m in love, okay!” I yelled, covering my mouth at the sheer loudness of my voice. “I’m in love.”

Blinking away the tears in my eyes, I look up at Jughead who has the biggest grin on his face. It’s so big that I’m afraid his face may crack!

“Oh Betty,” He starts taking a few paces towards me and takes my hands in his, “Is that all that’s been bothering you? Oh you are just too funny Betty Cooper! You have nothing to be afraid off because I lo-“

“No you don’t get it!” I cry, ripping my hands away from his. “I’m in love…

…with Archie.” I whisper, so quiet that I am afraid I may have to say it again.

As if on cue, thunder rolled through the dreary sky and flashes of lightning lit up night as the skies opened up from above and began pelting down buckets of rain onto us.

“You-you’re what?” He says, voice cracking half way through.

“With everything that’s been happening recently with you and your dad and me with my family, I’ve realised that I’m still in love with Archie, I’ve always been in love with Archie.” I cry, tears running down my face, blending in with the rain.

I look up at Jughead who looks absolutely broken. A twang of guilt overcomes me as I begin to sob.

“Say something, anything Juggie! Whatever pent up feeling you’ve held in all these months unleash it! Destroy me, tear me a new one, rip me to shreds, annihilate me I don’t care just say something!” I yell over the harsh rain.

Suddenly Jughead mumbled something but the austerity of the rain refrained me from hearing it.

“What? Juggie I can’t he-“ I began but was suddenly interrupted by Jughead ripping off his beanie and throwing it on the waterlogged ground.

“Don’t call me that!” He yelled. “Do not call me that name, only people who care about me get to call me that!”

“I care about you Juggie- Jughead, sorry. I like so much about you it’s insane! I like that you’re smart, funny, talented but…” I stopped, not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence.

“You see but that’s the problem isn’t it, you like me… but I love you!” He cried, voice void of any emotion. “And I wanna be somebody who thinks about me the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night! (A/N: Props for anyone who can tell me what TV show this comes from!!) I thought that that person was you Betty but… You and Archie deserve each other!” He yelled ready to storm off but I grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards me.

“Don’t say that Jug!” I tried to reason with him. “What? What do you expect me to say? Thank you? Oh thanks heaps Betty for telling me that you are IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND!! THANKS HEAPS, REALLY, BEST NEWS I’VE HEARD ALL DAY!” He screamed sarcastically, his dry sense of humour would normally have made me laugh but in this instance, it wasn’t the least bit funny.

“It doesn’t have to end like this Jughead! We can still be-““Don’t you dare say friends Elizabeth because that is the last thing I want to be, your friend. I would much rather have a fate worse than Jason’s then be your friend. I thought I knew you but it turns out, you and Archie are just like the rest of them, pathetic, conceded and dead to me” He finished with a whisper, like all of the energy had been sucked out of him.

“Don’t blame Archie Jug, okay? He has nothing to do with this, this is all me!” I say gesturing between myself and Jughead as I finish.

“What do you want me to do Betty? Thank him for taking my girlfriend from right under my nose?”

“No just… just don’t do anything okay? And don’t tell anyone please! I’d hate for this to get out!” I said, instantly regretting my choice of words.

“Oh sorry Princess, I’d hate for word to get out that little miss prissy over here had feelings for ass hat Archie Andrews. No, we wouldn’t want that would we!” Again with the sarcasm, a Jughead specialty.

A silence had filled the air, both of us too exhausted to continue fighting yet not wanting to stop. I took this time to examine just how badly I had treated Jughead. There in front of me, stood a boy with puffy red eyes, running his hands through his hair which I know was in hopes that the ground would just swallow him whole. I am sure I wouldn’t mind the same thing happening to me right about now.

Jughead suddenly began walking towards you. As he began to get closer, you noticed his teary eyes and blotchy face, something you didn’t notice before. Oh my god I’m the worst human being in the world. I wasn’t sure if Jughead was coming over to hit me or hug me so I just stood still and waited.

Jughead was so close I could feel his warm breath on my cool skin. Suddenly, Jug reached into the pocket of his jacket which I completely forgot I was still wearing. Emerging from the jacket pocket was a beautiful silver charm bracelet which carried various charms upon it. I am the devil, the actual devil oh god!

“You know, I was going to give you this tomorrow for our anniversary but I guess I won’t be doing that anymore. Who knows, maybe Archie can give it to you instead?” He sighed, dropping the bracelet onto the floor beneath him.

Taking his jacket off of my fragile frame, Jughead sighed and looked as though he was about to walk inside. As he turned to leave me out in the pouring rain, the front door opened to reveal the red headed wonder which was Archie Andrews.

“Everything all good out here Jug? Betts? Woah! It’s pouring rain out here, you guys are gonna get sick, come inside!” Archie offered, concern plastered all over his beautiful face. I couldn’t help the small smile that found its way onto my face at the sound of his worry for my health.

Jughead looked at Archie and then back at me and then back to Archie again. It was like he was having a war within himself on what to do next.

“I thought was had something special Betty, something powerful and real… But it turns out that feeling was completely one sided. I’m sorry that you wasted time on me with this sucky relationship but hey, you’re free now. Go run off with Archie and do whatever soul mates do, I hope it was worth it.” Jughead finished, tucking his hands in his pockets and pushing past me to get as far away from me as he possibly could.

Before he could go I realised something, “Juggie, wait!” I called out and chased after him although he hadn’t gotten very far. He turned around, a glimmer of optimism shone from his eyes in the hopes that this was all a joke and I was going to take him back.

“You um, you forgot your beanie.” I said shyly, extending my arms out for my former lover to grab. This beanie meant the world to Jughead. It was his safety net, his life line, his everything.

“Keep it. It’ll be a constant reminder of what we could’ve been. Goodbye Betty.” Jughead said as he turned away and made the long journey home, where ever that was now.

Looking down at the beanie in my hands I now realised the damage I have caused. Jughead gave me his beanie, the kid never leaves home without it.

A sob escaped my lips as my knees buckled causing me to fall to the ground, hugging the beanie ever so tightly as I balled my eyes out.

What have I done? I may have just lost the best thing that has ever happened to me and for what, some crush on a guy who has blatantly told me he doesn’t like me?

I stayed there for ages, crying, screaming, regretting everything that went down between Jughead and I but it was too late. The deed has been done, I have to live with the consequences of knowing that I have just lost the one constant in my life, the one person who loved me for me.

We were Jughead and Betty, Romeo and Juliet but now, I was just Betty, the girl who sacrificed everything for love, even if it meant hurting the one who loved her.

I am so sorry Jughead, what have I done?

[berniewolfes]

(third) first date, asked by @matildaswan - bernie x serena

She asks her if she’ll come over later, and it’s all Bernie can do not to fall apart.

Her mouth feels like cotton wool. Her mouth taste like tobacco and endless cups of coffee, and her body is wound tight and pulled apart, all at once, a collection of aching limbs upright in squeaky shoes. She wants to cry. She wants to sleep for a week. She wants to run away, run far away.  She wants to close the distance between herself and Serena (sitting to tie the laces of her running shoes) wants to crawl into her lap, smooth the low slump of her shoulder, smooth the lines that form, stay, at the top of her nose, with her fingers, with her mouth.

But she doesn’t, because she can’t. She shuffles her feet instead, ducks her head and echoes Serena, when she works her mouth into a smile, when she moves past her, mumbles –

‘See you at home?’

‘See you at home’.

She keeps herself busy instead, does the calculations instead. She counts the minutes, while she counts heartbeats, while she undresses, dresses, in the quiet, in the dark of the locker room, while she walks to her car. She doesn’t mind the distance so much, the long walk to the parking spot around the corner. She knows she needs more time. She needs time.

           (Seventy-six minutes, seventy-three with the wind behind her. Walk fast.

                       Check the mail. Check on Jason. Pour a glass of wine. Don’t pour a glass of wine.

Climb the stairs. Eleven stairs. Don’t look at her room. Go to bedroom. Take off clothes. Stand in the shower. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.  Don’t cry. Twenty minutes).

-

She feels a little foolish.

She sits in the car outside for a little while, her fingers drumming an anxious beat (one, one, two, one) on the steering wheel. The takeaway, which litters the back seat, is getting cold, she knows, but she’s scared.

She hasn’t been here for weeks. She knows Serena’s house back to front, by now – knows where she keeps the tea, knows where she hides the chocolate. She has a chair in the lounge room, has a side of the bed. She knows the bin day – would heave dead bouquet upon dead bouquet in a pile, drag it to the curb first thing in the morning, in her nightshirt and slippers, while Serena slept, if Serena slept. But she hasn’t slept over, hasn’t had dinner, not for weeks. Serena had asked for space, and Bernie had given it, has kept herself where Serena had wanted her -  arm’s length. So when she had peered at her with her wide brown eyes, with her wine-stained blouse and her tear-stained face, reeled her back in; Bernie didn’t know what to do.

She feels adolescent. She feels a little heady, a little apprehensive, a little desperate to give her what she wants, desperate to get back to what they were. She feels lost.

She feels like it shouldn’t feel like a first date, sitting outside her girlfriend’s house with her stomach in knots - stilling her trembling hands, stilling the nervous bounce of her leg.

‘Get it together, Wolfe’, she mumbles, as she drags herself out of the car, as she juggles the bags of food, the box of pizza, between her hands, extending a leg forward to push open the small, creaking gate. She rearranges her load, when she reaches the landing, uses her elbow to press the doorbell; shuffles her feet, arranges her mouth into something like a smile.

-

Her hair is damp from the shower, her face wiped clear of make up, and she looks very young, and ten years older, all at once.

R A M C is printed – fading – across the front of the large sweater, which swallows Serena’s narrow shoulders, her curved frame, the fraying hem brushing the middle of her thigh; and the sight stops the words just short of Bernie’s lips, the syllables tangled up in her tongue, her heart in her throat. She’d adopted it as her own, one very cold morning at Bernie’s place just before Christmas, picked up off the floor and thrown over her naked frame, a string of (fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck) tumbling from her lips, as the early morning snow had begun to fall outside; grinning wide when Bernie said it suited her, grinning wide when Bernie had propped herself up on an elbow to kiss her – unsure, enamoured.

There had been a quiet, tender fearlessness, a cautious enthusiasm to Bernie’s postbellum affection – in the way she searched for Serena’s hand before she held it tight, the way she bounced up and down, back and forth, on the balls and the heels of her feet, indecisive, before she moved forward to kiss her good night, good morning, good luck, good job, the way she always, always asked her and asked her and asked her (can I touch you here?)(can I kiss you there?) (can I stay the night?)

She thinks she ought to kiss her now. She thinks she’d like to kiss her, very much. But she cannot bring herself to ask, thinks it might not be allowed.

Instead she lifts up the bags in her hands, thrusts the pizza box towards her, a peace offering which Serena takes, wordlessly.

‘I thought you might be hungry, but – but I wasn’t sure – there’s no pineapple,  I promise’, she trips over the syllables, and a ghost of a smile appears on Serena’s mouth as she peers inside the box, as Bernie adds, ‘It’s from our place’.

‘And the other?’ she asks, nodding towards the bag, which bulges with food, warm against Bernie’s leg.

‘Oh, um, Thai. From that place you like down the road. I got all sorts. Or - Or I could cook? I make a mean – a mean mac-and-cheese, I’ve been told’.

Bernie searches for words, for something, for a response, a joke at the expense of her terrible cooking, but Serena just stands, just leans on the doorway, pizza box in hand, watches her, expressionless. A lengthy, awkward silence settles between them, which Serena makes no effort to break, and Bernie doesn’t know how to. The low dribble of sound from the television in the next room, the music of the crickets, the buzz of the breaking porch light, are the noises which save them from being swallowed up by their impasse. Bernie thinks she should take the hint. She gestures back towards her car, her voice light, her head heavy, because she was so desperately happy to be there, because she wants whatever Serena wants.

‘Or I can go?’ she says, puts the bags down on the threshold, begins to turn away when Serena catches her by the sleeve of her coat. The pizza box clatters unceremoniously to the floor as she steps outside and quickly, firmly, kisses Bernie. There’s nothing clumsy about it, nothing unsure. It’s steady and certain and full of feeling, of enviable confidence, and love, and she doesn’t loosen her grip on her sleeve, on the buttons unbuttoned, unthreading, on her coat – even as she pulls away, catches her breath.

‘Don’t go’, she mumbles, kisses her again. ‘Come inside’.

-

‘You don’t have to do that’, Serena says, gestures to Bernie’s hands plunged in the dishwater, elbow deep in bubbles, and her presence makes Bernie jump, the edge to her voice makes her shoulders square.

They’d rescued the food from the landing, the pizza unharmed, the Thai lukewarm. They’d eaten on a little blanket in the lounge room, Bernie leaning against the legs of her chair, the relative silence punctuated by the quiz show soft and low on the television, by Bernie’s competition (ongoing, affectionate) with Jason – to beat him to the right answer. She’d watched Serena, who hadn’t said a thing, who’d chewed half-heartedly on dinner. She looked wrecked, looked more exhausted than any human had the right to be, and a little on edge, but her gaze had softened a little when Bernie had furrowed a brow, cocked a worried head at her, and she had squeezed her calf, which rested next to her, had played an absent-minded tune on her bare foot. She looked a little less miserable, and glad to have her here, and love, and worry, fill up Bernie’s body, her lungs, her limbs, the ends of every nerve, and she felt like she might drown.

‘You don’t have to do that’, Serena says, from the entrance of the kitchen, as Bernie scrubs at the lipstick on Serena’s mug, at the food on the plates, after Jason’s gone to bed. The kettle nearby screeches, plays at the edges of Bernie’s burgeoning headache. She presses a finger to her temple, and Serena hurries over, snaps off the gas with a flick of her wrist, and turns to look at Bernie, whose hands have stilled. Her tone was terse, impatient, and she hadn’t meant it – Bernie can see her bite at her lip, squeeze her eyes closed. She reaches forward, careful, a hand against her forearm, and then tries again.

‘You don’t have to do that’, she mumbles, and shuffles behind her, her chin resting on her shoulder, briefly, pulling her hands from the sink and holding them in her own, soap bubbles between their fingers. ‘I’m sorry’.

Bernie lets her head fall, her hair coming away from her messy ponytail, her eyes closed, face red from the steam, rising from the sink, rising from the kettle, contorted with the effort of holding back tears. Serena takes the chance to press her mouth to the nape of Bernie’s neck, bent, to let her mouth brush against the tense muscles, the knots that form at the top of her shoulder. A low, heaving sob escapes Bernie, her shoulders shuddering, when Serena starts to mumble.

‘You looked after me so well, and I never asked if you were okay’, she says, and Bernie starts, turns in Serena's arms, furrows her brow, grips at the loose material of her own sweater, on Serena’s frame, catches her gaze with a firm stare, a resolute tone.

‘This isn’t about me’, Serena ignores her, pulls her closer.

‘I never even thanked you for not running away’, she says, and it stings. Bernie bristles at the frank reminder of her old self, her untethered self, her terrified self, can’t quite meet Serena’s eye.

But Serena’s face is earnest, her voice is earnest. They know each other too well for platitudes, care about each other too much for skirting around the truth. Bernie fought every urge to leave, every natural instinct to escape – when things were too hard, when life was too much – too messy, too complicated, too real. Serena loves her for staying, when all she wanted to do was go; tells her as much – moves closer, pressing Bernie against the sink, so that the tail of her shirt trails in the water, so that every part of them is touching. Bernie can feel the steady heave of her chest. She can feel the warmth of her thighs. She can feel her knees against her knees, toes against her toes, mouth against the corner of her mouth, as she tells her she loves her, she loves her. She loves her.

[litnerdhood]

PROMPT FROM @komadoriwonder (bc tumblr just went and deleted it [shakes fist @ tumblr]): 

Alfred is old, there is no denying it; except that everyone does. No one wants to think about losing the person who has held this family together, their foundation. So when Alfred falls ill and the rest of the family holds their collective breath, Jason hides out of fear, refusing to even imagine a life without Alfred... but he is soon left with no choice but to face reality. Jason enters the cold hospital reluctantly, his trembling hands shoved in his pockets, and prepares to say: "goodbye." 

WARNINGS FOR: talking about major character death, emotions and crying, BUT NO ON SCREEN DEATH. just hinting? yeah, that doesn’t really help. read with caution. 

ao3 link

Jason gets the message when he’s cooking lunch at home. His phone vibrates and he only hums as he reaches for it before reading the message. He blinks at it, knife slipping from his fingers, a heavy, suffocating fear settling on his chest. He swallows hard as the incoming panic floods him.

‘Alfred is in hospital. It doesn’t look good.’

He reads the message again and again but it stays the same. His mind goes blank within seconds. The only thing he is conscious of is how this can’t happen, of how little time he has spent with Alfred recently, of how unjust the whole thing is. He slumps down on the floor, leaning his back against the cabinets running a hand through his hair. The phone drops out of his limp hand. It can’t happen. That’s all there is to it. Alfred’s going to get better, because he can’t die. He just can’t. Jason has never thought about a life without Alfred. And every part of him rebels against the thought.

He can’t die, he can’t die, he can’t die.

Repeating the mantra doesn’t make it true. He tugs at his hair, concentrating on the pain instead of Alfred and the hospital, but the next moment his breath catches, heartbeat pounding in his ears. His whole body shaking, cheeks wet from the tears, Jason falls apart.

If Alfred was here…

It only makes him cry harder, thinking of Alfred’s grounding presence standing there, giving him the space to face the panic and fight it. Thinking of Alfred’s strong arms around him when it ends, reassuring him that he’s going to be okay. The strength in Alfred’s arms always surprised Jason, always made him think he would always be there for him, his firm foundation through the storms of life.

But Alfred isn’t here. So he cries.

He wakes up with a piercing headache, his face wet from crying in his sleep, crying from nightmares and dreams of better more comforting times. But Jason fortunately doesn’t remember his dreams. He is living in the nightmares.

He wipes the tears off his face, gathering the strength to grab his phone and see if he has any more messages.

His body moves sluggishly, his back stiff from sleeping against the hard wooden cabinets. The breakdown yesterday doesn't help and he's exhausted, but he swallows down his fears and looks at his phone once again.

There is another message from Dick asking when is he going to visit, but Jason doesn't answer. Thinking of Alfred dying would only end in more tears and Jason is tired to his bones. He should visit Alfred. He should visit him and talk with him and try to make the white washed walls and sterilised atmosphere and drawn-out, dull hours of the hospital more tolerable for him. But even thinking about it, thinking about the chance that Alfred won't come back from this illness, fills him with a nauseating sickness, makes his stomach turn with it.

He isn't going to say goodbye because Alfred is going to come through this. The doctors are wrong. Just last week, Alfred was strong and healthy, he didn't see any sign of sickness when he had shared a cup of tea with him and watched the amused smile and raised eyebrows spread across his weathered face…  so why was it happening now?

He finally feels like he is part of the family again. Bruce and he are talking, listening to each other, and it doesn’t grate on his nerves like it did for months after his resurrection.

So why does it seem like everything he worked so hard to build up, to repair, is crumbling down again?

Jason doesn’t give himself time to mull over these thoughts. He has already wasted too much time dwelling in this pain. He packs a duffel bag quickly so he can leave this apartment for a safe house the family doesn't know about. He won't have any of them breathing down his neck when he can barely think straight.

Jason hides.

The following days are filled with the constant vibrating of his phone against the kitchen table, the terror rising as it starts and falling when it stops. It could only be bad news, and he doesn’t have the strength to face it. He doesn't have the strength to face the verbal beat down he would surely get from the others and Bruce too. But, God, Bruce has every reason to be more disappointed in him than usual.

But still, Jason swallows his guilt like he always done, and hides. It's a grey, rainy Monday when he gets another message from Dick. He reads the message in numb silence as rain patters in a melancholy rhythm against the window panes.  

‘he's not getting better, jason please’

It's crystal clear what Dick is asking of him.

He showers quickly and out of the door before he can convince himself to turn around and hide in his room, wallowing in his miserable ideas of what his life be without Alfred.

Arriving at the hospital, he exhales shakily and with trembling hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, he finds himself standing in front of the hospital room. He opens the door as quietly as he can and steps in.

Closing the door, he stops and looks over Alfred. He lies there with closed eyes, skin pale, but if he is in pain, it does not show on his face. The IV line beside him seems to be the more likely explanation, and quickly dashes any hope in a miraculous recovery that Jason had been hoping for.

Jason sits down on the chair closer to the bed. He swallows hard, his throat dry, heart clenching at the sight of Alfred. Biting his lips, he fidgets, pleading with his muscles to relax as he keeps his distance, shoulders hunched forward, hands balled up in fists to reduce the trembling. It doesn’t help.

His eyes stay on the window, away from Alfred. A hand placed gently on his knee jerks him out of his own thoughts.

“Hey, Alfie,” he manages, smiling weakly as his eyes meet Alfred's.

“Master Jason, I'm happy to see you here.”

And Alfred is the best, isn't he? Jason easily hears the warmth in Alfred's voice instead of the disappointment and disapproval he deserves for avoiding him. He should have learned for now that Alfred's patience for him will never run out.

“Sorry for avoiding visiting you,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, the guilt overpowering him. “I know I should've come sooner I'm just…”  

Not strong enough to see you on your last days.

It's not fair how easily Alfred makes all his walls crumble, but the warm hand on his knee helps him to stay in control of his emotions. He's so tired of crying, Jason doesn't want Alfred to see him like that. Alfred has had to deal with his tears for so long, when he was young, when he was readjusting to a life he wasn’t meant to have… when Jason was in Gotham, there were weeks when Alfred wouldn’t let him go without any contact for even one day.

“Stop,” Alfred says gently. “You're overthinking it.”

“Story of my life.” Jason closes his eyes at his own bitter words before he shakes his head. “Sorry, I'm behaving like a child.”

“Don't apologise, I'm pleased to talk to you face to face. I wasn't present at our last meeting.”

“Can't really blame you for that, can I?” Jason's eyes glisten with tears but he takes a deep breath, holds back his tears. “Your life is much more important than our meeting. I could have come here before but I didn't.”

“Hush, you're here now.”

Alfred doesn't detest him for avoiding it and while he'd known Alfred is much better person than most of them, he feels as if this makes it harder. As if it would be easier for Alfred to just hate him.

The worst part of it is knowing that Alfred could never hate him.

“Geez, Alfred, are you–,” Jason starts but he cuts himself off. “Dick says, you aren't gonna  get better.”

“Yes,” Alfred's answer comes. Short and calm, as if his dying doesn't upset him, like he has already accepted that he doesn’t have much time.

“You've only got a few days.”

“Yes.”

Jason looks at Alfred, and all of his fears escape his mouth without permission.

“I don't wanna lose you,” Jason's voice breaks as he reaches for Alfred's hand. He squeezes it gently, instead of grabbing a hold of it and clinging to him like his brain tells him. “How can we even function without you?”

“You are going to survive this Master Jason, like I survived losing you.”

Jason's breath hitches, his expression shattering and bowing his head forward so Alfred can’t see the self hate on his face.

“I’m old, Master Jason.”

“Not old enough to die.”

“Jason, son. You’re going to be alright.”

Alfred's hand rests on his head, comforting, only making it that bit harder to hold back his sobs and tears. The lump in his throat thickens, he shivers as he tries to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks but he ignores it and hopes Alfred won't notice.

“You're going to be alright,” Alfred repeats, his voice firm. And he sounds so sure.

How can I be fine without you? Jason thinks, anger swelling up in his chest.

It's not fair because Alfred has given him a place to go when he can't deal with his thoughts anymore.

He needs more time.

Jason ducks his head lower and lower. The comforting pressure of Alfred’s hand disappears. Fuck, he's become a master at disappointing his family, hasn’t he?

Alfred moves, sitting up in his bed he puts his arms around his shoulders, pulling Jason closer.

It takes no time for Jason to lose his cool demeanor. Eyes burning, throat tight, Alfred's hospital gown slowly gains a small wet patch on his chest

Jason’s stomach churns with hate as he starts crying again. He's getting tired of his out of control emotions, crying all the time without stopping. He almost wishes for the years as Robin to come back, the years when he'd known how to repress crying in front of others.

Alfred's warm hand on his back anchors him to the present. Applying one of the meditating techniques he knows, Jason’s breathing begins to slow down. But it doesn't help with the hurt he feels in his chest.

Alfred is raking his fingers through Jason's hair gently. Jason wipes his eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie, his head staying in Alfred's lap.

The apology lies on the tip of his tongue but Jason is smart enough to know, Alfred would only dismiss it so he swallows it down.

“I'm so proud of you, Jason,” Alfred says, his voice warm like Jason did well on his school work back when he was fourteen.

“I imagined you'd say those words when I graduated from the uni. And you'd smile and your eyes would just say: ‘I told you so’. I wanted to come home after a hard week so I could complain about all the boring classes and talk with you about the assignments… ” Jason's voice breaks but he doesn't let the tears win this time. “Alfie… I–I got my letter from the uni, I'm in. I wanted you to see me graduate and be proud.”

Alfred's hand disappears from his hair, his body shaking with restrained sobs, Jason sits up abruptly, cursing himself for bringing up his imagined dreams, only causing pain.

“I'm sorry, Alfie, I'm sorry,” Jason pleads as he stands up to hug Alfred, to give the comfort Alfred has freely given so many times before. “You've been here for me for my whole life and I'm being a bitter fricking idiot when it's the last thing you need.”

“Your company has never been a burden to me, Master Jason.”

“Yeah, I'm sure my constant whining has significantly raised your mood in the past few months.”

Jason deserves the blank stare he gets from Alfred as he sits back on the chair again.

“Jason,” Alfred says simply. And something in his tone forces Jason to listen, to really listen to him. “I'm grateful for every single minute I’ve spent with you.”

“You'd be the only one,” Jason mutters, shoulders hunched forward. Even if it wasn't true, Jason’s heart beats too fast to calm down, his grief earlier embracing him with a new vigor.

“Your misconception of the family’s feelings about you should not astonish me.”

Jason leans back on his chair, a small laugh falling from his mouth at the dry voice. Alfred is, of course, right. The animosity with the family has died down with the years but the bitterness has gripped him tightly, latched onto him like a parasite.

Alfred moves back under the blanket, lying down with a small sigh, and Jason watches him, worry etched across his face. He would give anything for Alfred to get better. He would die again, relive all the pain and horror of his untimely youthful death in a heartbeat if he knew it would give Alfred even one more day on this world.

His eyes wander around the room, stopping at the book on the small table next to him. His eyes burn seeing Alfred's favourite book, but he takes it in his hands, opening it at the bookmark.

He looks at Alfred, asking for permission silently. Alfred’s old, sad eyes smile back at him. He begins reading the familiar lines like he did so many times before in the manor’s library, surrounded by the old books, sitting close to the fireplace, buried in his a blanket. The room with the white dull walls and stifling antiseptics doesn’t compare to the warmth of the library.

Jason takes a short break, easing his dry throat with a glass of water. He lies his head next to Alfred’s, closing his eyes, he relishes in the moment of peacefulness, escaping from his overwhelming feelings.

Alfred squeezes the back of his neck faintly, his forehead touching Jason's.

“You know, I love you Alfie, right? You believed in me even after I came back. You're always there for me, supporting even when I didn't deserve this. You're the reason I'm still alive, you're my everything Alfie. I'll take care of myself and the others, for your sake, okay?” Jason gives shaky breath, throat tight with his repressed emotion.

Alfred doesn't say anything, only embracing Jason in his arms, body trembling slightly.

For the first time in the week, breathing comes easier and the suffocating feeling in his chest slowly lifts off.

[footyplusau]

Dogs prevail, Pies impress

THE WESTERN Bulldogs have kicked off their premiership defence with a hard-fought 14-point win over a gallant Collingwood at the MCG on Friday night.

In the end the Bulldogs’ versatility and star power was too much for the Magpies, who relied heavily on the brilliance of skipper Scott Pendlebury and lionhearted efforts from Steele Sidebottom and Adam Treloar.

Bulldogs star Tom Liberatore was crucial in evening up the battle inside the contest, laying 14 tackles, and Marcus Bontempelli’s class was telling with two goals exactly when the Bulldogs needed them most.

Coll v WB: Full match details and statistics

The Bulldogs eventually ran out winners, 15.10 (100) to 12.14 (86).

After the Bulldogs kicked the opening four goals the Pies worked their way back into the game through the brilliance of Alex Fasolo, who kicked three goals late in the second quarter.

Collingwood then hit the front through a brilliant Treloar goal early in the second half and looked to have the momentum.

However, the Bulldogs, led by the silky Robert Murphy, lifted to kicked five unanswered goals to extinguish the challenge.

Five talking points: Collingwood v Western Bulldogs

Bulldogs coach Luke Beveridge was pleased to escape with the win.

“Collingwood were very, very good in tight and definitely beat us around the source, so we had to find a way,” Beveridge said.

“Our efficiency was better than it normally is forward of centre, which is great to see, but they put on a bit of pressure and it was good to hold sway at the end.”

Dogs must adapt to new ruck rule: Beveridge

Murphy worked in tandem with Jason Johannisen switching back and forth from defence to attack to confuse the Magpies.

Johannisen kicked two goals and Lachie Hunter was also elusive with three goals and 15 uncontested possessions.

It was the Bulldogs’ sharpness in space that proved the difference.

They moved the ball from end to end repeatedly to kick goals over the back as Collingwood tried to exert forward pressure.

Collingwood kept coming, but the four-goal margin at three-quarter time was too much for the Magpies to overhaul.

WATCH: Trav’s night against his former side

Buckley was disappointed but he remained positive after the game.

“There was a lot to like,” Buckley said.

“Our use inside forward 50 was not ideal and they were able to get it out of our forward line and score a little too easily as well.”

Former Pie Travis Cloke kicked one huge goal in the first quarter to silence the loud boos coming from Collingwood supporters, but Ben Reid defeated him on the night.

Magpie midfielder Travis Varcoe was reported after cleaning up Luke Dahlhaus at a centre bounce and will be lucky to avoid suspension.

Collingwood faces a huge test next Thursday night against Richmond, but showed it has the capacity to match the Tigers, while the Bulldogs will unveil the flag against Sydney next week.

WHAT’S NEW Collingwood: A virus to James Aish saw the Magpies turn to Chris Mayne as a late inclusion. He settled the nerves with a long, important goal early in the second quarter to arrest the Bulldogs’ momentum. Tried hard and could improve at the Magpies. Will Hoskin-Elliott lacked defensive pressure but showed his class when he had the football in his hands. He ended the game with 22 disposals and a goal and played well after quarter-time. Henry Schade worked hard in defence but a fumble at a crucial time in the third quarter was costly, allowing Bontempelli to goal.

Western Bulldogs: Although he wore a different jumper, it was the same Travis Cloke who arrived at the MCG. Kicked a brilliant, long goal to silence the booing Magpie fans late in the first quarter. He tackled hard and his effort was as good as ever, but he did his job and little more.

MEDICAL ROOM Collingwood: Nil Western Bulldogs: Dale Morris suffered a leg injury late in the game. “He’s a bit sore. We’ll have to work out what is going on there. [The medical team] need to assess him further. I’m not really sure whether it’s ankle or knee, or whether it’s both. He seemed to twist both,” Beveridge said.

NEXT UP The Western Bulldogs unveil their premiership flag against last year’s Grand Final opponent, the Sydney Swans, at Etihad Stadium on Friday night. Collingwood will face a confident Richmond in a must-win encounter at the MCG on Thursday night.

COLLINGWOOD       1.5   7.9   9.11   12.14 (86) WESTERN BULLDOGS    5.1   9.1   14.6    15.10 (100) 

GOALS Collingwood: Fasolo 3, Sidebottom 2, Pendlebury 2, White, Mayne, Treloar, Goldsack, Hoskin-Elliott Western Bulldogs: Hunter 3, Johannisen 2, Bontempelli 2, Picken 2, M.Boyd, Stringer, Cloke, Liberatore, Crameri, McLean 

BEST  Collingwood: Pendlebury, Treloar, Sidebottom, Adams, Fasolo, Reid Western Bulldogs: Dahlhaus, Liberatore, Bontempelli, Johannisen, Hunter, Murphy, Boyd 

INJURIES  Collingwood: James Aish (virus) replaced in the selected side by Chris Mayne, Western Bulldogs: Dale Morris (right leg) 

Reports: Travis Varcoe reported for rough conduct in the first term.

Umpires: Deboy, Kamolins, Schmitt

Official crowd: 66,254 at the MCG

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