#ok another thing that gets me is dick saying he was robin for six years

[roipecheur]

Babygirl, there are so many things wrong with you ♥

[nonagesimus]

Birthday prompt :) would love something with Steph and Dick, perhaps a case they work together or a fight they engage in together where the dynamic really shines through. Any universe would be great!

i was intending to finish this earlier and then post it once i woke up but hello it is after midnight and i am officially 31 so here is steph and dick talking legacy titles

—

“I’m glad he’s back.”

“Obviously. Me too.”

“It was awful him being dead. I hated it. It sucked.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not saying I’m anything but thrilled he’s alive.”

“No, I know.”

Silence reigned for a moment. Steph drummed her fingers against the roof ledge. They were staking out a bar across the road; she’d gotten a tip off on a potential Maroni meet happening inside. She hadn’t asked for help, per se, just said she wouldn’t mind company if anyone wanted to tag along. Honestly hadn’t expected anyone to take her up on it. Batman had better things to do, Robin followed at his dad’s heels, Tim had been very edgy and protective of his independence since he’d gotten back to town, and Nightwing?

Nightwing was pacing the roof next to her, a tight frown on his face, and apparently a bone he was trying very hard not to pick.

“If he asks me one more question about my reports from when he was dead I’m going to hit him.”

She muffled a snort, but not enough to keep him from turning his scowl on her.

“I know,” he said. “Laugh it up.”

“It’s just funny,” she said. “Y’know. The Batman who was all up my ass six months ago, getting all pissed that Batman is all up his ass now.”

Dick paused, cocked his head, and a reluctant smile spread across his face. “Never took you as one for schadenfreude.”

“Oh, you really don’t know me all that well,” she grinned, looking back down at the bar.

Another pause, and then Dick was sitting down on the roof ledge, beside where she was leaning. Feet kicking idly against the edifice. He was silent for long enough that she glanced up—Dick was looking at the bar too, but the frown on his face looked a little deeper than just concentration. She nudged him in the hip with an elbow.

“Are you stewing? I wasn’t aiming to hit quite that hard.”

He looked at her—expression brightening, but maybe a little forced—and shook his head. “No, you’re good.”

“You’ve got your thinking face on,” she said, focusing back down at the bar. “But don’t let me stop you.”

Dick made a noise of acknowledgement and the conversation lapsed. Babs checked in over comms. Steph took note of a few mobsters coming in and out of the bar. Her prime target still hadn’t shown his face. She stood and took a couple laps around the roof to stretch her legs out before settling back into her spot. Set aside a moment to be a little surprised Dick had been sitting still for so long.

“I’ll give it another hour for Paulie to show,” she said. “But I think this might’ve been a bust, so, sorry in advance.”

“You say like I’ve never been on a stakeout before,” Dick said, with a smile. But an uncharacteristically brief one.

She hesitated for a moment before biting the bullet. “Seriously, are you ok?”

“Always,” he said, cheerily. Before looking over, and meeting her searching look, and shrugging. “I don’t know. I just—I guess I don’t know you that well. And I should, I mean, we worked together a lot over the past year. I should.”

Steph blinked, carefully thought that over, and then poked him in the side hard enough he yelped. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I—“

“Did you really just start twisting yourself up about not hanging out with me the year your dad died, and you got saddled with a kid out of nowhere?”

His jaw snapped shut, and he frowned at her for a moment, before he tried to talk again. “I should’ve—“

“Nope.” She shook her head, throwing a quick look at a crowd approaching the bar to make sure her boy wasn’t one of them. “I know you Batmen love to act like everything’s your problem but you’re not my boss or my brother, so.” She shrugged. “There’s nothing to beat yourself up over.”

“Ok,” he said doubtfully, but he was antsy enough to stand and start pacing again, this time right along the edge of the roof. “I know I was hard on you at the start though.”

“And you got better,” Steph said. “Look, if there’s something bigger bothering you here, we can talk. If you’re really being this weird over little old me, I’m gonna start throwing gravel at you every time you say something stupid.”

She looked up at him, and he stared back for a long moment. All of a sudden his shoulders dropped, and he wandered back across the ledge to sit beside her again. “Ok,” he said. “Deal.”

“Great,” she cracked her back, half her mind on the street, and half still on him. “If you want to keep bitching about B, that’s also totally fine.”

He snorted, left it a few moments, and then said, “How’s he been with you? Since he came back.”

She huffed a breath out her nose. “I mean, I don’t think he was thrilled about me being in this particular suit. I let Babs run interference when she can.”

“She’s good at that,” Dick said, nodding to himself.

A group exited the bar, standing in a loose crowd pulling out cigarettes and cellphones. One girl wandered away, chattering into her phone and Steph tracked her progress absently.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, “You seem lighter now that it’s all over. But I know who my favourite Batman is.” She nudged him with her shoulder, but didn’t look over.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, voice warm, “I think you make a damn good Batgirl.”

And Steph had spent a long time training herself out of needing anyone’s approval. After Bruce, and Tim, and Leslie, way back to her Dad. She’d never let anyone’s opinion stop her from trying to help people. If she had, she never would’ve been Spoiler. Let alone Robin, let alone Batgirl. But hearing Dick say that warmed the pit of her stomach anyway.

“Aw, shucks,” she said, not quite able to restrain a beaming smile. She nodded at where someone had started to follow the girl on the phone down an alley. “Want to go stop that girl from getting mugged?”

Dick bounced to his feet, an easy grin on his face. “After you.”

[bat-losers-inc]

Song of Cassandra: Chapter 2

Warnings: Family Drama, Family Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Baggage, and Child Neglect

Summary: What is Batman without a Robin? Everyone in the family makes jokes about the ‘dead robins club’, but Dick and Jason really do have measures set in place for the day Bruce loses sight of what’s really important. They won’t let Bruce sacrifice another Robin for the cause, even if that means separating Robin from Batman for good.

Pairings: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

                            _____________________________________

Half a year later saw them performing a feat of brotherly bonding he’d never imagined possible: robbing Penguin together.

They’d left the Tricorner district behind in a streak of burnt rubber and a barrage of gunfire and ditched the getaway van in Chinatown at the first available 24-hour parking facility on the other side of the bridge. It was slower going on foot, but Chinatown’s busy night scene, combined with the heavy triad presence in this district, would make Penguin’s men hesitate before going in guns blazing. That was all the time they needed to slip away unseen.

Now, as they emerged from the darkness of the parking deck, Dick yanked the balaclava off his head. He grunted something unintelligible as he shouldered his way through the cluster of pedestrians that crowded the sidewalk.

“What?” asked Jason, pulling his own half-mask down from around his neck and jogging to catch up.

“I said, you’re a real bastard. You promised me this was would be easy!”

Jason glanced at him. He wanted to be sympathetic but he just couldn’t when Dick was glaring at him with that staticky mop of hair. He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice when he replied, “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t leave a paper trail! This is about as easy as stealing from Penguin’s bagman gets.”

In truth, he thought they were complaining just for the sake of complaining. After six months they both knew that pulling off this heist was less a matter of choice and more a matter of necessity. Failure meant returning to the storage locker Dick had procured outside of Port Adams and staring down their measly little bat-trust-fund: six safehouses, fifteen rolls of Kevlar fabric, a small arsenal, twenty-seven contacts typed into a Word document, and $5,025 split five ways. But what use would kevlar suits be if their siblings couldn’t afford to keep a roof over their heads? No, without the cash it was worth fuck-all.

Dick looked like he wanted to argue the point further but at that moment a convoy of police vehicles shot past them, sirens wailing and horns blaring loud enough to deafen a person. No doubt by now Penguin’s men had informed their boss about the botched exchange and pinned the blame on their nearest rivals, the Ghost Dragons. If that was the case, then Chinatown was a powder keg ready to explode into a minor gang war at any moment.

A flash of light reflected off the windows of a nearby apartment building. Jason stepped in between two parked cars to get a better look and found himself staring up at the cloud-heavy night sky illuminated in the glow of the bat signal.

He gripped the heavy duffel bag full of stolen cash closer to his chest like he expected Gotham’s dark knight to swoop down at any moment and tear it from his shoulder.

“Hey,” Dick tugged at his arm. “time to go.”

Batman was on the way and like the best of Gotham’s criminals, Jason and Dick made themselves scarce.

It took nearly forty minutes and three subway lines to make their way back to the self-storage facility. By then a pale glow had crept up from the horizon and spread across the water. Around them, the street lights began to shut off one after another. In the distance, Jason could just make out a tugboat as it pushed a barge out towards the open ocean.

By the time Dick pulled the storage locker door down behind them, they were tired-eyed and footsore.

Jason threw the duffel bag onto a table and propped himself against it as he fished one-handed under his t-shirt to undo the straps of his protective vest. He sighed in relief as the weight lifted off his shoulders. “How the hell did you stand wearing these things when you were on the force? Even with the undershirt, the chaffing is god-awful.”

“You get used to it,” Dick replied, making quick work of removing his own gear.

Jason doubted it but he was too tired to argue his point further. Instead, he found the six-pack that he’d stashed under the table earlier that day and snapped off a can.

“Heads up,” he called, as he pitched a can underhand to Dick who caught it against his chest.

Dick held it up for inspection. “Warm beer. What I’ve always wanted.”

“Oh shut up and celebrate with me, you asshole.”

He extended his arm across the table. Dick knocked beer cans with him and completely failed at hiding the shy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though god bless him he tried. “Cheers.”

Jason watched him crack open the top and chuckled as he hurriedly slurped at the foam that erupted over the rim. He knew that this morally gray lifestyle didn’t come easy to Dick but he couldn’t deny that he was happy he had stuck around with him for this long. He didn’t dare to say it out loud, but they actually made good partners.

He took a long drink from his own beer can before putting it aside. “Ok, come on. The faster we count this cash the sooner we can go to bed.”

Jason upturned the duffel bags, sending stacks of cash sliding out onto the metal tabletop while Dick pulled the banknote counter from the corner and lugged the machine up next to the pile. Together they started slipping the currency bands loose and feeding the stacks of cash into the machine, watching eagerly as the sum continued to tick upwards.

“Soo…” Jason drummed his thumbs on the table as the numbers continued to flash on the small screen, “How are things going with you and Babs?”

“What?” Dick’s eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m a little curious about what she thinks you do when you’re out late all the time… also, I’m bored.”

“You’re weird, is what you are.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Seriously? We’ve only spent the past six months together moonlighting as vigilante survivalists and I can’t ask one time how your love life is going.”

“No, no. Sorry, you’re right.” Dick held up a hand. “I told her I’ve been helping you out with an undercover case for a couple of months now. Said I owed you a favor.”

Jason grinned at him. “Well, that’s not a lie. Quite a few actually, but who’s counting.”

Dick punched him in the shoulder. “Actually, I should call her. Reassure her you didn’t get me killed before she calls in a search party.”

Jason chuckled and went back to the task of feeding bills into the machine as Dick rummaged through the backpack and fished out his phone.

“Hey, uhh...”

Jason glanced up and took in Dick’s furrowed expression as he stared down at his phone. He put down the stack of cash he was holding. “What’s the matter?”

“Something happened while we were out. I — shit I don’t know how to explain it but I’ve got like 15 missed messages from Barbara and Alfred. Did you bring your phone with you?”

Jason grabbed his backpack where his own phone was stashed and opened it to find a similar mass of missed calls and incoherently excited messages cluttering the screen. Some of the numbers he recognized, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred were all saved in his phone, but a few were from unknown senders. If he had to venture some guesses he’d say Cass, Duke… maybe Harper? Fuck, he never realized this many bat brats had his number. “I don’t get it… something about Tim? What about hell?”

“I’m calling Babs.”

Jason was aware of how uncomfortably loud their breathing sounded in the small storage locker as they stood around the table waiting for Dick’s call to connect.

“Dick?” Barbara’s voice asked loudly through the speaker. “Thank God! Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling you.”

“Sorry, undercover mission, remember? What’s the big emergency? I didn’t get anything from Bruce.”

“You need to get back to the manor. Bruce found Tim!”

That didn’t make any sense. “What? You mean Bruce found Tim’s remains?”

Jason smacked his arm. “His remains? Are you fucking serious? What remains could Bruce possibly find after a death like that?”

“I don’t know, bone fragments—”

Dick’s argument sounded flimsy the moment it left his mouth and they both knew it. Jason just really hated to be the one who had to say it.

“If the heat from that explosion didn’t finish him off entirely then the pounding impact of like a hundred thousand missiles definitely did in whatever remains might have been left.”

“Guys—” called Babs.

“Oh, so you’re a forensic scientist now? You don’t know that—“

“Yes, I do!” He slammed a hand down on the table, his anger flaring. He really couldn’t do this backslide back into denial with Dick again. “There’s a reason we buried an empty box. Tim is literally dust in the wind.”

“Jesus Christ!” Barbara’s voice erupted loudly through the speakerphone. “Kill it with the broody back and forth already and actually listen to me, would you? I’m not talking about bone fragments or anything like that. I’m saying Bruce found Tim. Tim! He’s alive.”

Jason met Dick’s eyes over the phone, confusion written as starkly across Dick’s face as it must have been on his own. “What? I— What?”

“I really don’t understand it all myself. But Tim said he’s been held captive by Mr. Oz in another dimension for this whole time. Can you believe it? All this time we thought he was dead and...”

Jason didn’t catch that last bit. He was too busy bent over the table as all the blood rushed to his head.

He was gonna hurl. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

They’d all given up on the hope of Tim miraculously surviving a long time ago and this sudden news felt like he was experiencing emotional whiplash. This had to be some kind of sick joke or a trick... a doppelganger sent by the newest enemy on the rise against Batman.

Dick’s thoughts were apparently spiraling in the same direction as his own for he ran a hand roughly across his mouth and asked, “You saw him yourself? You’re sure it’s him, our Tim?”

But it wasn’t a big cosmic joke. As much as Jason couldn’t believe it, it wasn’t and that was made clear with every new piece of information Babs gave them.

“Yes, he was standing right in front of me only an hour ago — crying and hugging everyone.”

Dick turned to look at Jason, but he was already rounding the table and yanking Dick into a bruising hug.

“He’s alive,” Dick cried into the shoulder of his t-shirt. His voice overflowed with the most contagiously hysterical mixture of joy. Jason laughed through his own tears. “You bet your ass he is!”

He couldn’t explain what had come over him. He and Dick had never really been close — and they definitely weren’t huggers — but the last few months had been so full of this gnawing air of anxiety — their family continuing to fracture, the resources running dry — that the full realization was starting to hit them that this plan might have been formed too late to do any real good. They could feel the clock running out and they were both expecting the other shoe to drop any day now but then out of the blue… this.

Dick pushed away from him suddenly and wiped at his eyes.

“Uh…” he tried to clear his throat. “We, uh, we should get back to the cave and go see him for ourselves. Babs, he still there, right?”

“Yeah, Bruce is debriefing him.”

And just like that, Jason’s joy seized painfully in his chest. It hurt the way a seatbelt does in a car crash, knocking the air out of your lungs and bringing you up short. He watched Dick rush around him, grabbing up his belongings in a disorganized fashion.

“Dick, I can’t come with you.”

“What?” Dick asked, breathless. He turned back from the door. “Yes, you can. C’mon, get your stuff, the money can wait till tomorrow.”

Jason shook his head. Fuck, how the hell was he supposed to explain this to him without looking like the one asshole member of this family who didn’t want to visit his little brother recently brought back from the dead.

Dick paused, his hand dropping from the door handle. “What? Because of what happened between you and Bruce?”

I was a fool for ever believing in you. Even now Bruce’s words lingered at the back of his head. An invisible brand that still held its heat.

“Jason, I know what went down between you and Bruce was… heavy, to say the least, but you’re still family. You do know that, right? You’re still my family and if you want to see Tim, Bruce can do fuck-all to stop it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jason could only huff a sad laugh at that because God did he want to believe that too, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Tim would always be his family, but Bruce… he’d crossed a point of no return with Bruce on the night that the fortress was destroyed. The violence of his assault had done more than break a few bones— it had finally shattered that last shred of trust he’d stupidly harbored in him that when push came to shove Bruce would value the son over the soldier. I broke his rules for the last time and now he sees me as nothing more than an unredeemable criminal that escaped Batman’s justice. One of his little soldiers gone AWOL.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… I can’t face him yet— I—” he trailed off. He’d been laying low since his return to Gotham, but even still Jason thought the only reason he’d survived this long was because Bruce was too consumed with Tim’s death to spend a spare thought on him. He wasn’t ready to walk into that cave tonight and find out what would happen now that Tim was back in the picture and Bruce’s anger focused back on him.

It felt like a horrible selfish thing to think about saving his own skin when his little brother had come back from the dead, but as his eyes lingered at the collection of items piled around the storage locker he was reminded that no one was going to do it for him. After all, that was how this plan had all started right? Someone had to be the one to craft the safety net for the next Robin to fall of Batman’s mighty pedestal.

“You should go. Tell Tim I’m glad he inherited my cockroach-like ability to not stay dead.”

“Jason…” Dick twisted the jacket he held in his hands.

“Go.” It came out sharper than he’d intended, despite his best efforts to push his emotions down. He was quick to try to smooth it over with a tight smile that he knew fooled neither of them. “I’ll stop by his apartment tomorrow once all the hype has died down. Besides, someone needs to finish up here.”

He nodded at the banknote counter.

The one thing he’d always valued about Dick, more than his caring nature, was that he knew when to stop pushing an issue.

“Alright,” Dick shifted his grip on his jacket again. His phone was chiming once more in the back pocket of his jeans. No doubt another family member asking where he was. “I’ll call you tomorrow to check in.”

“Sure.”

After the door to the storage locker fell shut, Jason let his gaze travel around the room again. So Tim was back, alive and well as far as any of them were concerned. A nagging part of Jason’s mind wondered worriedly if gaining him back would slowly undo all the plans they had made together. Would Dick continue to worry about the next crisis to befall their little family or would Tim’s return renew his neverending faith in the impossible until he eventually forgot what it was that drove him to his breaking point?

Jason picked up another stack of banknotes and slid it into the machine. As the numbers continued to rise once more he did his best to prepare himself for the idea that he would be alone in this mission once more. Another bitter pill to swallow but he couldn’t do it. It lodged itself raw and unpleasant at the back of his throat.

[welllpthisishappening]

All the Subliminal Things: Epilogue

Killian Jones has a plan and a box and a question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Only he and Emma have never been particularly good at plans. 

They’re better at falling into something that never really felt like falling, all ease and normalcy and beginning to expect the unexpected. So, he doesn’t really ask, so much as he states it and the next thing he knows, they’re on a plane leaving JFK. 

Without telling any of their friends. 

—–

Rating: Still teen, but just with like...a ton of kissing.  Word Count: 7K’ish. Lots of Disney World knowledge. More kissing.  AN: A few days ago I got a very lovely ask with some very nice words about All the Subliminal Things (plus a very nice message from @idristardis) asking for some kind of epilogue. And there are genuinely few things I love more than writing fluff and Disney World, so combining the two was a no-brainer of perfect day-off activities. Here you will find: kissing, fluff, more kissing, seriously more fluff, a bunch of Disney World moments that are far too autobiographical and how convenient it is that the Tangled bathrooms are that close to Peter Pan’s Flight at Magic Kingdom. 

As always, I can’t thank you guys enough for saying such lovely things about the words I spew at you and to @cssns for hosting this event. I’ll have some more supernatural words later this month. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll. 

—–

He genuinely, one-hundred percent does not mean for it to happen the way that it does.

That, however, seems to be how they operate –– unexpected and even better, a string of wonderful and slightly magical, all ease and two years of ups and downs and how comfortable it is to fall asleep on the couch together.

They fall asleep on the couch all the time.

It’s a ridiculous habit.

It’s painfully domestic.

And, sometimes, just painful, but Emma likes to say that’s because Killian is old and she always flashes him that very specific smile when she does it. That makes it less painful.

So, really, he can’t be held accountable for what happens. Because Killian did, in fact, have a plan. He had an idea and expectations and a box that’s been burning a hole in his pocket for the last few weeks.

Metaphorically.

But then Emma swings open the door of the bar, hair sticking to her face and color to her cheeks and––“We got him,” she proclaims, slumping over the front of the counter with a huff that probably shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.

She lets her head fall forward, a soft thump that is also the single most wonderful thing Killian has ever seen, a joy that’s practically radiating out of her because she and David had been looking for this particular asshole for months, paperwork and long nights and part of the reason he hasn’t actually been able to put the plan in action.

And, really, he’s glad that justice has been served and Emma will probably have some department-mandated time off now and--

She tilts her head back up, staring at him from underneath her eyelashes. Her eyebrows pull low, all concern and confusion and Killian can’t entirely ignore the fluttering of nerves in the pit of his stomach.

That’s absurd. This is...well, it’s magical and soulmates and he’s fairly certain of the answer he’s going to get, but he’s also a human being and he wants. With every single fiber of his being. He’s surprised there’s not a constant stream of smoke coming from his left pant pocket.

“Babe,” she drawls, letting a finger drag through a ring of condensation he should probably clean up at some point. “This is the part where you congratulate me on being the best police officer in all five boroughs.” “All five of them?” “Wow, that is scathing.”

Killian lets out a breath, more nerves and Emma’s eyes narrow slightly. “No, no, no,” he mutters, ducking down to grab a pair of empty glasses he hopes are clean. Honestly, it is a miracle Robin hasn’t killed him yet.

Ruby has asked what the hell is wrong with you no less than forty-two times in the last two weeks alone.

And he doesn’t quite run around the side of the bar, but it’s definitely close enough that it draws a laugh out of Emma and, he supposes, that’s fair. They’re both a little out of breath by the time Killian moves into her space, an arm around her waist when he spins her on the stool he didn’t even realize she was sitting on.

Her legs part, just enough that he can crowd against her, hands on his chest and his fingers brushing strands of hair away from her forehead.

“I love you,” Killian says, barely getting the words out before he’s ducking his head and catching her mouth with his. He can hear Emma’s sharp inhale, the crack of her knuckles when she curls her fingers around the fabric of his shirt, and one of her hands flies into his hair.

There is absolutely, positively no way to know how often they’ve done this. It’s probably an obscene number at this point, drifting into the thousands, at least, but that’s also a good thing, the best thing, and Killian genuinely cannot think when Emma’s leg wraps around his calf.

She surges up, trying to get even closer and that never fails to make his whole world shift slightly, as if she’s greedy for every bit of it, trying to claim something that’s been hers from the very first moment he walked into that coffee shop.

That makes him a little less nervous.

About everything.

God, Ruby is going to be obnoxious about this.

David too, probably.

Robin may just be thankful to have a, relatively, normal business partner again.

And, eventually, the need for oxygen proves to be more pressing than the need to keep making out in front of the relatively small Tuesday night crowd, Killian’s shoulders moving quickly while he tries to regain his bearings.

“So, that’s a no, huh?” Emma asks, laughter still clinging to her voice. She pulls back slightly, chewing on her lower lip and he briefly considers pulling her off the bar stool, dragging her into the back office and doing several unspeakably unprofessional things.

It would not be the first time.

“What gave me away?” “Well, I’ll admit that it’s been kind of back and forth, but Locksley said you’ve been weird for the last couple of weeks and--” “--Are you gossiping about me with Locksley, Swan?” “Ruby brought it up first and then Locksley confirmed it. So, really, you may actually be the most popular guy in all five boroughs.” “Including Staten Island?” “You don’t want to include Staten Island?” Killian shrugs, another quick kiss because, well...he can’t come up with a reason not to. “I can’t say I’ve got much of an opinion on Staten Island. I don’t know that I’ve ever been to Staten Island in my entire life.”

“What, really?”

“Why would I?”

“Yeah, that’s fair, I guess,” Emma admits. “Plus, the the toll over the Verrazano is just absurd now and you’d have to drive all the way through Brooklyn.” “God forbid.”

“The BQE and the entire borough of Brooklyn exists just to make me angry, I swear,” Emma says, and this is not the first time he’s heard this particular string of words in this particular order. It is also impossibly endearing.

Killian hums, lower lip jutting out. Emma nips at it. He was kind of hoping that would happen. And his hand has moved at some point, drifting over her side and the slightly rumpled shirt she’s got on, pulling until the fabric threatens to untuck from dress pants he’s, at least, seventy-six percent positive she wears just to drive him insane.

“Is it against the rules for New York’s finest to be critiquing the toll system?” Killian asks, clicking his tongue when Emma digs the heel of her shoe into his leg. “Swan, if you get my pants all dirty, I’m going to be really annoyed.” “That so?” “That’s not an answer.” “About the tolls?” He nods, fairly certain this entire conversation has gone completely off the rails, but it’s also kind of par for the course and if he doesn’t stop thinking in clichés, Killian may, actually, go insane. Emma blinks, lips twisting into something resembling a scowl. “Ok,” she says, tongue flicking out in a way that is far too distracting. Even with, like, six other people in the bar. “What is your deal?”

“What?” “Your deal,” she says slowly. “Locksley is legitimately worried. He thinks you’re overworked or something, which is--” “--I’m not the one catching dangerous criminals, love.” “Is that what it is?” “Is that what what is?” “Killian!”

He kisses her again. Something about habit or how much he’ll never be entirely used to the way she says his name, like it’s hers in a way that it absolutely is. So long as they both shall live. Eventually. Maybe.

Hopefully.

“If I tell you I’m exceptionally proud of you are you, in fact, going to kick me?” Emma huffs, but her mouth is still distractingly close to his and the breath of air on his cheek is warm. “I don’t think I have enough dexterity in my legs, honestly.” “Good word.” “Yeah, well, flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Not flattery,” Killian promises, and that’s probably a step in the right direction. Promising. Declaring. The ring is in their apartment. “Honesty. I know how hard you’ve been working, Swan and the charges’ll stick. You’ve got more than enough evidence.” “Most of which you probably shouldn’t be aware of.” “Ah, semantics.”

She laughs again – giggles, almost – a softness to it that makes any lingering sense of tension disappear and he’s so, impossibly, completely in love with her Killian can’t believe he hasn’t gotten it sky-written yet. That’s a very soul-mate type thing to do.

That’s probably why he hasn’t done it.

Because this is that, but it’s more. It’s...everything and easy and simple and a complete contradiction to both of those things and he also can’t believe they haven’t gone to Disney World yet.

“Is that what it is, though?” Emma presses, digging the tip of her finger into his chest. “Were you worried about me? And this Gold dick?” “Phrase that differently.”

She scoffs, head colliding with his collarbone. “You are a very frustrating man, you know that?” “And you are very much charmed by that, my love.”

He doesn’t mean to do that. It’s happened a few times, a quick change that isn’t really much of a change because it is the absolute and complete truth, but it also feels a little possessive and like a line Killian kind of wants to pole vault over.

Emma glances up again, smile tugging at the ends of her mouth. “Yeah, that’s true,” she whispers. “Seriously, you’ve got to tell me what you’re thinking. Nothing was ever going to happen to me.” “I know.” And he does. Killian knows. He watches her walk out the door every morning with the certainty that she will walk back through it, has gotten so used to falling asleep with hair in his face that he can’t imagine a scenario that is any different, but he’s also all in and his mind cannot begin to process even the idea that any of this might not be.

It, simply, does not make sense.

Plus, he figures the world owes him.

But that seems like a dick move. Not Gold dick, but something different.

“Ok,” Emma says, stretching the word out until it sounds like several paragraphs. “So, then. What’s your deal?” “I have no deal.” “Babe. Seriously.” “No deal,” Killian says, not quite an exact repeat, but enough that he’s almost prepared for the skeptical look Emma’s face morphs into. “I just--”

“--You just?”

And, really, he has no idea what happens next. Honestly. It’s like falling into something, a rush in his ears and thud of his pulse, a burst of light in his vision that’s a bit like staring at the sun and there’s probably a metaphor there and, eventually, Killian will realize that it is, in fact, fairly magical. It’s oddly similar to the moment.

His moment.

Again. As if it’s trying to prove itself or remind him that having a plan is, sometimes, overrated and that’s really all there is to it.

The words spill out of him. There’s an alcohol joke to be made there. He doesn’t make it. He proposes instead.

“Marry me,” Killian breathes, and he’s dimly aware of Emma’s foot falling back onto the floor. She blinks. He blinks. It’s ridiculous. He doesn’t want to blink. He wants to see every single shift of her face, every expression, every twitch and the exact color of her eyes when she does, finally, process the words he didn’t actually mean to say.

He’s glad he did.

It’s more subtle than sky-writing, anyway.

“Fucking fuck,” Emma mumbles, eyes widening to a size that almost immediately makes them water when she realizes what she’s said. Her hand flies to her mouth, jaw going tense and another inhale that’s sharp enough to cut several metaphors.

And, honestly, laughing at his soulmate’s reaction to his less-than-planned proposal is probably against the rules of several different universes, but they’ve never really been very good at following the rules anyway and Killian throws his whole head back with the force of it.

“Oh my God, Swan,” he chuckles, chest shaking and it seems like the air gets sweeter around them. “Are you serious?” “Are you?” He stops laughing. Immediately. Enough that the silence that rings out makes it blatantly obvious that his neck cracks when he jerks back, eyes wide and Emma’s lip twisted between her teeth.

She’s very clearly not breathing.

“Swan,” Killian says, not quite a sigh, but the hope that he’ll eventually be able to make that tone of voice disappear entirely. As if she’s not quite sure or nervous about the hope he can practically see brimming in her gaze.

He reaches up, dragging his thumb over her lip until her teeth let go, and one of them probably gasps as soon as her hands finds his prosthetic.

“I planned this differently,” he admits, and he’s almost genuinely concerned for the state of her eyes. “I’ll have to apologize to Locksley. I--that’s what my deal is.” Emma’s jaw drops. Her tongue flashes again, quick enough that it’s barely there before she’s letting out a shaky exhale and the first tear that lands on her cheek brands itself on Killian’s entire soul.

He is drowning in metaphors.

“I love you,” Killian says. “I should have led with that.”

“Because of my thoughts on the Verrazano Narrows and the overall state of the MTA?”

“I mean, it’s part of it.” He chuckles, more endearments and something seems to settle in the pit of his stomach, a soft weight that doesn’t feel uncomfortable, more like it’s keeping him rooted to the spot or possibly just to her and Killian isn’t entirely opposed to that second one. So long as they both may live. “But it’s...well, it’s more than that, love. And it has been from the start. It’s…”

He has to finish his sentences.

That’s becoming more and more difficult.

“It’s...how much you care. About everything and everyone. You want to do something good, Swan and you do...just by opening your eyes in the morning.” That makes her roll her eyes, which he almost expected. He kisses her again, lets his forehead rest on hers so Emma can keep her fingers in his hair. And keeps talking. “It’s how much you hate scrambled eggs and your thoughts on the amount of cream cheese they put on bagels at Dunkin.” “It’s gross, that’s why. People take the phrase cream cheese sandwich way too seriously.”

Killian kisses the bridge of her nose. And her right cheek. And her left cheek. And the curve of her jaw. He can’t stop, tracing a pattern that isn’t actually there, but one he feels as if he can see. That’s another metaphor.

“I know, Swan,” he continues, “and it’s all of that. It’s these pants--” “--The pants?” “Swan, if you don’t stop interrupting, I’m not going to be able to get you to swoon properly.” “I mean, I think you’re doing an alright job now, honestly.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Yeah. Are you into my pants?” “I’m super into your pants. And you. And how you cried at the end of Moana--” “--Ok, that didn’t happen.” “Emma.”

She scowls, a scrunch of her nose and pinch of her brows and they’re starting to draw a few curious glances. It might be because, at some point, Killian’s hand has moved underneath her shirt. “I might have cried at the end of Moana.” “I know you did, love. That’s my point. I...I love you. And, more than that I...God, I like you so much. Even when you leave the pillows on the floor.” “Is this the part that’s supposed to get me to swoon?” Killian hums, brushing his lips over that pinch until he can feel it disappear. “It’s you, Emma. It’s always been you. No matter what. With the magic or without, with societal rules or expectations. I’d...I’d always get pulled back to you. And I want to keep doing that. On some kind of indefinite loop. With pants that make me lose my mind a little bit.”

“I can’t believe you keep talking about my pants.” “I really like your pants. And what they do to your legs.” “Oh my God,” Emma breathes, but there’s more laughter and tears that are trending more towards emotional than depressing. Killian kisses them away. “I love you too,” she adds, “Way before the moment, which, incidentally is cheating that you’re using again.”

“Yeah, that was the point.”

Whatever sound she makes at that, etches its way onto every inch of him –– every dark corner of his brain, the parts that remember being alone and scared and absolutely terrified that everything he wanted was some kind of fabricated lie of the universe.

But then he’d come to New York and--

“I walked into that coffee shop and it was like seeing the sun for the first time,” he says. “Settled everything, made it easier to breathe. I…” Killian’s eyes flutter shut, a shift of emotion and Emma’s hand is cool when it lands on his cheek. He kisses the inside of her wrist. “I can breathe when I’m with you.” She kisses him that time. It’s nice. Perfect. Happily ever after.

“Yes.”

He blinks again. And blinks. And might, honestly, gasp. “Wait, what?” “Babe,” Emma grins, and she’s moved off the stool at some point, standing on tip toes with an arm slung around his shoulder. “That was the answer. Yes. Obviously.”

The world shifts, Killian is positive. It alters its course of rotation or something happens to gravity and he’s not totally sure how the Big Bang actually worked, but whatever appears to be happening in his bar may be oddly similar.

“Obviously,” Emma repeats, as if saying it again will help him believe. It might.

“The ring is at home.”

“That’s ok.” “I really want to marry you.”

She blushes. It’s the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. Bar none. She’s the greatest thing that has ever happened to him.

Obviously.

“Ask one more time,” Emma mutters, and Killian can hear the want there, the same muted hope he’s been living for years. He nods, taking a step back and sinking onto his knee and, at least, four of the six people in the bar gasps.

She laces her fingers through his when he tries to lift her hand.

He takes a deep breath.

“Emma Swan, will you marry me?” Something, something, the goddamn sun. She beams, a shade of green he’s never seen before, but is probably going to covet the rest of his life, dropping down in front of him, which catches him by surprise, but then Emma’s lips are on his and Killian can’t think of any words.

At all.

“Yes,” she says again, pressing all three letters against his skin, repeated over and over, muttered in his ear and behind the bar, where she isn’t technically supposed to be, but he’s heard all about that evidence so he figures it’s a wash.

And the ring fits, sitting on her finger with those same fingers resting on his chest later that night, hair in his face and the quiet sound of Emma’s breathing lulling him to sleep.

He calls off the next day, some piss-poor excuse that Locksley absolutely does not believe, but Killian does not care and Emma keeps twisting her ring around her finger.

It may be driving him insane.

Which is saying something considering the fact that she’s resolutely refused to put pants on.  

There’s a laptop propped up on her thighs, fingers flying across the keyboard with a determined look on her face.

That lasts, approximately, four hours.

And several cups of coffee.

“This is ridiculous,” Emma sighs, slumping further into the corner of the couch. “There is just...do you know how expensive DJs are?” “Oh God, why would we get a DJ?” “That’s what I’m saying!” Killian hums, lifting his arm up so Emma can curl against his side. She slings her legs over his,her  head on his shoulder and fingers absentmindedly toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “But it’s apparently less expensive than an actual band and--” “--Wedding bands are...something, aren’t they?”

Emma clicks her teeth, not quite frustration, but maybe just a sense of general overwhelmed and that’s not really the vibe he was hoping for. He hates that he even though the word vibe just now. He’s also running on, like, four hours of sleep, though.

He’s really glad she’s still not wearing pants.

“According to a TimeOut article I just read--do not laugh at that,” Emma adds quickly, when Killian opens his mouth, and he nips at her finger when she presses it to his lips. “Ok, seriously. This is just...there are a lot of things. And I was, you know, psyched to--” “--Get married?” “You say that like you aren’t.” Killian shakes his head, ducking down to mouth at the side of her neck. It earns him the exact noise he was hoping for. “I think I’ve proved my level of psyched, love. But I don’t want it to be some kind of something.”

“Explain that,” she says, rolling her shoulders so he’ll look up at her.

“You saw Locksley and Regina’s wedding. They had a fish course. It was absurd.” “It was nice. ‘Ish.” “Swan.” She huffs. “I was so intimidated by that castle.” “I do not want to get married at a castle,” Killian says. “And you despise fish. You’re the world’s pickiest eater, really.”

“That’s rude.” “That is a fact. All I’m saying, Swan, is that this does not have to be some kind of cookie-cutter, soulmate thing. There doesn’t have to be a castle or fish or anything you don’t want. I’m here for you, love. That’s it.”

“That was stupid romantic.” “Yes, exactly.”

She scoffs, but the smile is obvious when she kisses him again, all heady and emotional and Killian’s hips cant up as soon as she scratches at the back of his head. They haven’t actually told anyone, yet. That will, eventually, prove important.

“What if,” Emma starts, and Killian’s not sure when her legs moved to either side of his, but he can’t bring himself to complain. Her breath hitches when his hand moves up her spine. “I really can’t have a conversation when you’re doing that.” “I’m not entirely opposed to not having this conversation.” “Ok, slightly rude again and a little confusing with the double negatives.”

“What if we what, Swan?” “You know you only have to wait twenty-four hours after getting a marriage license to get married in the city of New York?”

Killian’s hand freezes. And Emma’s smile widens, a glint in her eyes that’s far too knowing and---“When did you look that up?” “As soon as I saw how expensive it was to have DJs at a wedding. It doesn’t make any sense. Just play Spotify.” “You want to play Spotify at our wedding?” “Not if we elope.”

The laugh that bubbles out of him is not like any other noise he has ever made –– equal parts joy and something akin to relief and twenty-four hours seems like an almost reasonable amount of time to wait to be married.

He’d more into, like, twelve, but he figures he can last a day.

So long as Emma takes her pants off when they get back from the city clerk.

“Honestly?”

Emma scrunches her nose. “Was that you double checking, or…” She yelps when he stands up, legs wrapping around his middle, like he’d actually let her fall. It’s another metaphor. And they don’t walk back to the bedroom, so much as they stumble, pausing every few feet so Emma’s back can collide with a wall, roaming hands and searing mouths, a press of hips on hips and her fingers never leave his hair.

They both put pants on before they go to the city clerk, impatient in the back seat of an Uber and Killian nearly throws his credit card at the man behind the desk when he says it will cost thirty-five dollars to get married.

Emma’s whole body shakes when she laughs.

The artificial light reflects off her ring.

Killian Jones marries Emma Swan, soulmate, best friend, the love of his goddamn life at three twenty-four on a Thursday.

They don’t tell their friends.

They have to ask a stranger to be a witness.

A man named Archie with glasses that are almost comically thick reads the vows off a slightly browned index card.

It is absolute and completely perfect.

And it really doesn’t last long –– partially because they just decided to do this and partially because they don’t even have rings, just a suit that was hanging in the back of their closet and a dress that’s more cream than actual white, but made Killian’s eyes widen all the same when Emma walked into the living room that morning and--

“Do you, Killian Jones, take Emma Swan to be your lawful wedded wife?” Archie asks. “To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?” The muscles in his face ache, far too much use in far too little time, and Killian has to swallow before he can answer. “I do.”

Emma’s fingers tighten around his left hand.

“Do you, Emma Swan, take Killian Jones to be your lawful wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?” She blinks, tears and something bigger than that, lips parting into a smile that Killian is certain he’ll think about with startling regularity. Once every day for the rest of his life. At least.

“I do,” Emma says, and he barely hears the rest.

There’s something about power and the city of New York, but the buzzing in Killian’s ears is too loud and his heart is beating too fast and--well, Emma kisses him. Before Archie finishes.

Her fingers tug on the front of his suit, pulling him forward without much grace, an arm around her waist and tongue tracing across her lower lip and someone might whistle.

That seems to spur them on.

Killian tilts his head, lets his nose brush over her cheek and his fingers drift over the back of her dress. She steps on his shoe. Emma’s fingers move, dragging up the back of his neck and making his hair stand up, a mess of feeling and emotion and official.

So long as they both may live.

Obviously.

“I love you,” she whispers, the words hanging in the minimal amount of space between them and it’s difficult to see through the tears clouding his vision.

He feels as if his chest is too tight and flying apart at the seams, bursting with feeling and magic and how this kind of settling is distinctly lacking any negative connotation. “I love you.”

Archie coughs, not quite pointed, but maybe a little uncomfortable and Emma ducks her head into Killian’s neck when she starts to laugh. “Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Jones,” he says, the first time those particular words have been uttered in that particular order and Emma stills.

And for half a moment, the worry that slinks down Killian’s spine is annoying, but then Emma’s glancing up at him –– all green and love and––“Oh, that sounded good,” she breathes.

He can’t held accountable for what he does after that.

One of her shoes falls off.

Someone else whistles.

“So, what do we now, wife?”

Emma’s smile widens. “I’ve got an idea, actually.”

 Eventually Killian will ask Emma, his wife, when she finds the time to do so much internet research. As it is, he’s far too busy being stunned that it worked and there is a website with other people’s cancelled Disney World vacations for sale.

They buy one.

Five days. At a resort that is, apparently, very fancy, something about a pool the internet is consistently impressed by and he’s fairly certain Emma hasn’t stopped smiling once in the last forty-eight hours.

That’s all he really cares about.

He’s a sap.

And he kisses the bend of her knuckles, fingers laced together and more light reflecting off her ring, as soon as they take off.

 Of all the things that he has ever seen in his entire life, watching the way Emma’s entire face changes as soon as she walks into Magic Kingdom may be Killian’s favorite.

He can actually see her inhale, the way her shoulders shift and her eyes widen. Her lips twitch slightly, like she can’t decide if she wants to smile. Her fingers flutter at her side, only one hand because the other one is still wrapped up in his, throat shifting when she swallows and lips pressing together, a tight line that doesn’t quite match up with the suddenly quick pace of her breathing.

And he knows it’s wrong to be glad as soon as the first tear lands on her cheek, but he also knows it’s not sadness, it’s hope and romance and, well, romance again.

It is, after all, technically their honeymoon.

“Oh, shut up,” Emma grumbles.

“I didn’t say anything, Swan.” “Yeah, yeah, you didn’t really have to.” She turns, hands flying to his chest, and she’s going to do damage to her sandals if she keeps pressing up on her toes like that. “You look very pleased with yourself.” Killian shakes his head. “I’m happy, love.”

She doesn’t drop back to her heels. That’s nice. “Yeah, me too. I think that’s how it’s supposed to work here.” “Just with you, maybe.” “What a line.” He hums, ducking his head and this is not the place for it. There’s a crowd and people and someone in a red vest is trying to get them to move because there may very well be a parade starting soon, but Killian kisses Emma anyway, lets all the want and need and several other relationship buzzwords find their way into the movement.

“I think we’re going to get run over by a parade float,” Emma mumbles, drawing a laugh out of him and a possible agreement out of the clearly stressed out red vest. “Alright, what do you want to do first?” “How many different types of foods do you think are shaped like Mickey Mouse here?” “At least a dozen.” “You’re low-balling it.” “You think it’s more than a dozen?” “You should start with the pretzels,” red vest says, flashing them a grin despite her attempts to keep people from crossing the sidewalk. “And I really do need you to move.” Killian hums, fingers finding Emma’s again. “Let’s go find a pretzel, Swan.”

“We’re only at ten,” Killian says, two days later and he’s not sure either one of them have ever eaten this much food in their lives. That’s really all they’ve done. They eat and they drink and they make out in public places.

And, well, they take each other’s clothes off with an almost alarming amount of frequency, but he’s still using the honeymoon excuse and they do, at least, wait until they get back to their room for that.

They haven’t used the pool once.

It has a pirate ship next to it.

And a lot of kids.

Whose parents probably wouldn’t appreciate how often Killian likes to kiss his wife.

He keeps using that phrase.

Word, really.

Title?

It doesn’t matter. He uses it and thinks it and someone in one of the stores on Main Street gave them buttons that say happily ever after on them. It’s gotten them more food. And champagne that one time.

Emma rolls her eyes, taking a particularly aggressive bite out of a pretzel shaped like Mickey Mouse’s head. “That’s ridiculous,” she says, reaching out to brush her fingers over the fake headstone in the line queue they’re waiting in. Haunted Mansion appears to be her favorite ride.

She hums the song at the end.

Killian doesn’t think she realizes she’s doing it.

“Ten Mickey Mouse shaped foods, love. And I really don’t think the ice cream cone counts because it’s just a cookie on top of ice cream.”

“You’re just getting particular now. Also you hated those cake pops.” “If I’m going to pay six dollars for something on a stick, it should at least be an entire cake.”

Emma scoffs, shuffling forward when the line does and shivering slightly when they move into the air conditioned building. She hands him a piece of pretzel over her shoulder, trying to surreptitiously eat what may actually be their fifteenth pretzel before they get on the ride and she laughs every time the lights flicker in the entry room too.

He is hopelessly in love with his own wife.

It’s nice.

It’s obviously what was going to happen.

“Welcome, foolish mortals to the Haunted Mansion,” Emma mutters under her breath, leaning back against his chest. There’s hair in his face again. “This chamber has no windows or doors.”

The lights flicker again, Emma’s body shaking against Killian’s and she jumps slightly. That might have more to do with his mouth against her neck than anything else.

And she keeps humming the song long after they get off the ride, another loop around Magic Kingdom that gets disrupted by the parade –– “Seriously, there are so many parades here.” “You are very anti-parade, babe.” “It ruins the walking pattern of the whole park, Swan.” “So we’ve heard.” –– before they have fast passes at Hollywood Studios and they are both absurdly competitive at Toy Story Mania.

“You looked up cheat codes last night,” Emma accuses, pushing her 3D glasses up the bridge of her nose after he’s won. Again.

“I did no such thing.” “Show me your internet history.” “No!” “You cheated. You’re a cheater.” “I just have better hand-eye coordination than you, that’s all.” He twists his eyebrows, half a smirk and the tip of his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek and Emma groans. And kisses him. Her glasses slide down her nose again. “And they weren’t cheat codes,” Killian adds. “They were suggestions on where to aim the rings on that one game so you could get a shit ton of points, that’s all.”

“You are the worst.” He hums, holding an arm out when she clamors in front of him. "Still married me.” “You keep bringing that up.”

“Yup.” It makes her laugh, the sound of plastic being thrown in the bin echoing around them. “Alright, husband, where to now? Because if it’s not Tower of Terror, I think this marriage is destined for disaster.”

“Good alliteration.” “C’mon.”

He’s gotten very good at timing the photos on the drop, fingers brushing over Emma’s stomach at precisely the right time, making her laugh even louder and smile even bigger and she’s very quick to point out that buying the pictures now is pointless, they’re all on the website, but he’s kind of stubborn and they’re married, which isn’t an excuse, although it may be a reason and she buys a frame for it.

They drink around EPCOT on their last night there, not particularly good planning, but it is what it is and what it is is delightfully buzzed.

“This is professional curiosity, Swan,” Killian says, not sure when his words started slurring slightly, but it might have been somewhere around Morocco.

She nods against his shoulder, legs wobblier than normal underneath her. “So you mentioned when you were talking about the one guy’s pour technique in Canada.” “It wasn’t very good.” “Too much foam.” “Exactly.” “Is that why we’re only doing liquor? No threat of pour issues?” “No,” Killian shakes his head, which leads to his lips dragging across her forehead and he didn’t realize he was that close to her. “That’s so we don’t die on the flight home tomorrow.” “Oh, don’t mention tomorrow.” “What’s the matter?” Emma shrugs, tilting her head up and there’s just enough sobriety in her gaze to be...sobering. “I love you,” she says, which isn’t the last thing he expects to hear, but they’re also a few steps away from a giant statue of a Viking, so it’s probably not the first thing. “And, I--God, this has been so good. This whole thing and I don’t…” “You don’t?” “No, that’s not what I mean. I guess--” She licks her lips, a shaky breath and she’d really liked that ride in Norway when they’d ridden it a couple days ago. Maybe they should get some school bread to eat. Soak up the alcohol. “I’m happy. And not really surprised because you make me happy, but...I’m just glad we did this. That it was ours.” She shrugs again, as if she’s not sure of the reception she’ll get to the words and so, really, the only rational thing to do is kiss her until her left knee buckles. It ends up being her right, but Killian will work with what he’s got.

And he’s got her.

Obviously.

“I love you so much.” “That’s really good news,” Emma mumbles, a quiver of something that still sounds like nerves and there’s more to this than what she’s saying. “We’ve got to tell people eventually, you know.” “I do. And I have an idea about that.” “Do you just?” He hums, smile stretching across his face and excitement twisting around the base of his spine. It’s pleasantly warm. Like magic or something. “I do, but first, we are going to try the margaritas inside the pyramid thing--” “--That is not what it’s called.” “Inside the pyramid thing, because the subReddit said they were better than the ones outside.” “You are obsessed with the subReddit.” “Yes, let’s drink margaritas.” They do –– and they don’t try the ones outside, far too aware of the states of their livers, but the ones they have are pretty damn good and make Emma grit her teeth in the most delightful way, and then they’re on the monorail and standing in front of Cinderella Castle and there’s a camera pointed their direction. “So,” the photographer says, “what did you guys want to do, exactly?” Killian stuffs the Sharpie back in his pocket, an arm around Emma’s waist and maybe the smile is also permanent now. She holds her hand out.

The photographer laughs.

“We’re telling our friends we got married,” Emma explains, more laughter and kisses and she actually gasps when he dips her.

Their phones buzz, in tandem, for fifteen minutes straight.

Ruby sends four different audio messages.

David sends a photo of Mary Margaret. She’s crying.

Locksley writes finally with several exclamation marks.

 And the rest of the night goes on –– starlight and moonlight and fake light, from trees and off rides in the back corner of Fantasyland, neither one of them quite buzzed anymore as they meander past the Tangled area towards Peter Pan’s Flight.

Emma stops walking.

Killian nearly falls over. “Swan?” She chews on her lip, chest heaving enough that he’s worried her pin is going to fall off. “Love,” Killian continues, a cautious step forward and his left hand on her waist. “Are you alright? You want to sit down?” She shakes her head, the ends of her hair fluttering a sudden breeze and--

“I wouldn’t want you to look at my internet history either.”

He can feel his eyebrows fly up his forehead, that same feeling of dread and worry mixing together with whatever his pulse is doing and the edges of his vision have started to go a little spotty. Maybe he’s not entirely sober yet.

“I don’t--” “--I know, I know,” Emma cuts in sharply, and she can’t seem to decide what to do with her hands. “I just...well, I was thinking about it before you even proposed and I--” “--You’re going to bite through your lip, love.” Killian thumbs at it, trying to pull it away from her teeth, but Emma is also stubborn and so obviously nervous and part of him probably knows. Part of him appears to be having a moment. Over and over. Again and again. Falling into a life and a feeling, a sense of security and want and how easy all of those things are.

He supposes that’s how it should work.

And how it has, even before he knew.

He’s always kind of known.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Swan, whatever you were looking up, it’s not…” “--I want to adopt a kid.”

His eyebrows are going to stay locked at the top of his forehead for the rest of his life.

Killian swallows, eyelids fluttering shut despite his best efforts, because he kind of knew, and he wants and wants and wants. With her. Obviously. “Yeah, ok,” he breathes, and Emma actually gasps. It makes him laugh. “Were you not expecting that?” “I…” “Swan, c’mon, love.” “Are you serious?” “Are you?” “I feel like we’ve done this before.”

She lets out a breath, body sagging forward, which isn’t much since she’s also pretty close to him and that’s as nice as it’s ever been. “I love you,” Killian adds. “And I know you think it’s too soon and--” “--Stop reading my mind.” “I’m not, love. And it’s not. It’s--” He shrugs, a tilt of his head and a smile that’s as genuine as any he’s given her all week. “I love you,” he says again. “And we’ve both been...you changed everything, Swan. If we could do that for kid, together, then I am in. All in.”

Emma tilts her head up, probably not an invitation to kiss her, but they did just decide they were going to try and have a family a few feet away from very intricately decorated bathrooms, so. Killian kisses his wife.

Hard.

And the fireworks start.

Loud.

There’s music and color and more light, reflecting off the ring on the hand that’s resting against his chest, tears on Emma’s cheeks and, maybe, on his cheeks, and they didn’t even read all of their text messages.

“We’ll swap internet history when we get back to hotel, yeah?”

Emma clicks her tongue, but then she’s laughing and kissing him and--“Maybe not the first thing we do.” “Deal.”

He keeps reading the Disney World subReddit.

And Emma sends him links. To an adoption agency. And baby stores. And how to bring a toddler to Disney World without losing your mind.

And three years later they do just that.

Henry likes the pool at the Beach Club.

He smiles and splashes, making faces and squirming in Emma’s hold while Killian tries to take pictures, ignoring any preconceived worries about his phone and its proximity to water. And they ride rides –– not Tower of Terror yet, because they are, actually, responsible, but Henry is delighted by the music on Haunted Mansion and even more so by Pirates of the Caribbean and Killian’s rough estimate is that they buy sixteen cake pops.

Over the first four days.

They eat more food and meet characters, something cliché about seeing joy reflected on your kid’s face that changes absolutely everything all over again, and, on their last night there, they stand in front of Cinderella Castle with smiles on their faces and a camera pointed at them.

Mary Margaret’s answering text message includes what may be a record-setting number of w’s in her aw.

Henry likes the fireworks too.

That feels oddly cyclical. As does Emma next to Killian, the feel of her lips obvious even through his t-shirt and it probably isn’t easy for her to get her arm around his middle when there’s a kid there, but they might both be holding that kid together and he kisses her hair.

“You happy, Swan?” “Yeah, I am. You?” “Yeah.”

Henry and Emma both fall asleep on the bus, her head on Killian's shoulder and their son’s arms wrapped around his middle.

[kaywrites33]

Ok ok so what headcanons do you have for the Batfam? Like how do you think they get along etc.

okay okay this is gonna be a long one folks, and I’m probably going to add on to it later.

Imma do a mini timeline thing. Kids ages are when adopted so this isn’t is less confusing. I hc that Bruce 'batmanning’ started in his late teens to early 20s. 

Bruce: at first: 27ish. Enough of a party-boy for people to be surprised at him adopting the Greyson orphan, but not young enough to object. 

Dick:13, nearly 14 

Jason: Barely 16, doesn’t look it.  ... Bruce: 33

Tim: 14  ... Bruce:37

When Bruce adopts Dick, he knows, exactly nothing, about children

BUT, somehow, it comes naturally????

Bruce is understanding, but he figures out when to be strict.

and so Dick stays an only child until 19, six years after.

let’s just say, the disagreement they had, blew up. 

Dick moved to Bludhaven, for ‘space’ and to become a police officer cleaning up that department quick as he does so because he can be a scary motherfucker when he wants to be

about- six months after Dick’s move (Bruce and him, are still, barely talking), while out, batman sees what he thinks is a child, maybe 9 or 10, stealing his hub caps. 

Bats approaches quietly, nearly scaring the kid out of his skin, who he can now see is probably more like 13 16 but shhhh malnutrition

He takes a ... gentle ... approach to it. Finding out, his mother was dead overdose and his father was the same

Bruce, barely thinks, putting the bone thin kid into the passenger seat, and heading home, even though it’s barely 1 am. 

Alfred raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Patching up the sassy, but lanky boy. where he reveals he’s 16 because ‘stop calling me a child! I’m 16... stop giving me that look. ‘

Enter: Bruce Wayne.

Jason jumps almost running. because- “No! You- you can’t be!” 

Bruce lets Jason get his objects out, before he sets out his proposal.

Jason studies either at Gotham Prep, where Dick went, or at home, online. Works out, and if he wishes to participate in batman’s activities, trains to become robin. 

At first, it takes a moment, but Jason agrees. he chooses Gotham prep at first, but alas, the trust funds Dick fit in so well with, don’t take kindly to the almost 6 ft tall, lanky yet still strong Jason, with ‘hippie hair’. he switches to an online program and his grades skyrocket to A s. 

after a year, Dick slowly reconciles with Bruce and meets Jason. they clash, but eventually, get along. Nightwing, occasionally appears. So does the prodigal son alongside Bruce Wayne occasionally. 

Barely two years later, they respond to a joker alert. Jason has been... brutally effective as robin. This worries Bruce, but he hasn’t time to address it properly, or come up with a game to do so. 

Jason, took off, ahead of Bruce, as normal... much to Bruce’s dislike. 

Not as normal, when Batman gets to the warehouse, Jason/Robin is nowhere to be found. Besides an eerie address on a paper slip. 

He speeds to it. and... it’s too late. He watches the warehouse explodes. Maybe he cries, Maybe not. But he carries his 18 year old son’s still somewhat lanky, bloody and broken body out of the flames. 

Flash forward two years, and enter Tim Drake.

Tim is smart… some might say too much for his own good. Tim doesn’t listen to those people. He goes to Gotham Prep on a full ride, and is entering his junior year, despite his age. And so what if he doesn’t have any friends and his parents are gone most of the time on archaeological digs?

So Tim has time. He’s ahead in most of his classes, and A s in all of them. 

What does a bored genius in Gotham do? Study Batman. Try to figure out his identity. And so, when he is 14, entering his junior year, after noting how violent the bat had gotten after Robin’s (the second he thinks), and how drunk millionaire Bruce Wayne had started to get after the death of Jason Todd, he connects it.

 Tim sits on this information, trying to decide what to do. Halfway through his Junior year he decides. He’ll become Robin. And so, he schemes. 

Just after, winter break  another Christmas spent alone. He hasn’t heard from his parents since thanksgiving. He may, or may not be worried.  he decides to attend an engineering/college prep/ mentoring/after school program at Wayne tech out of boredom, where surprise surprise just as the plan went he mets Bruce Wayne, impressed with the boy’s tinkerings. And so Tim says “Thanks Batman.” Without missing a beat. 

He’s pulled out into hall gentally after seeing that he isn’t joking. Tim explains, practically having memorized the speech “Let me be robin”

Surprisingly, it only takes half way through the speech for the taller, older, a bit greying, Bruce to tell him to find him after the program is over for the night. He goes back in a grin upon his face, making the other misfits wonder. 

Tim finds Bruce after, and Bruce invites him for dinner with a sigh. 

Bruce finds out about his parents and himself begins to scheme. Together, they begin a training schedule and by May, Tim gets along with Bruce and Dick swimmingly, and has moved in after CPS finds his parents have been classified as missing and Bruce Wayne generously offers to take the boy in, due to the fact he’s in several of his after school programs. 

And for a while, it seems everything is getting better, Tim graduates early, at 16, and Dick graduates college with a degree in Biology and criminology.

There shall be more to come but, I mayyyy have gone a bit long. So sorry about long this took!

[theywerero0mates]

An act of kindness

[thecomicsnexus]

NEW TEEN TITANS #26-27 DECEMBER 1982 - JANUARY 1983 BY MARV WOLFMAN, GEORGE PEREZ, ROMEO TANGHAL AND ADRIENNE ROY

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

The New Teen Titans return to Earth from the Vega system, and Robin, having revealed his true feelings during the battle, begins a romantic relationship with Starfire. Several weeks pass uneventfully. Then, Dick and Kory, on a movie date, witness the accidental death of a drug-crazed youth who attacks D.A. Adrian Chase and his wife before running into the path of a car. The next day, at the site of the Statue of Liberty, Changeling battles a young costumed girl, who calls herself Terra.

Raven heals the wounded youth at the cost of almost being taken over by the spirit of her demonic father, Trigon. The boy proves to be the older brother of the teenager whose death Dick and Kory had witnessed (in the previous issue). He had come to New York to investigate his brother's death only to be set upon and nearly killed by gangsters employed by drug czar Anthony Scarapelli. Returning to the youth center, the Titans meet with Adrian Chase and Roy Harper, the latter working as a liaison between federal and local authorities in drug-related cases. Leaving with the Titans, Roy resumes his identity as Speedy, and together the young heroes break up Scarapelli's plans to have his new drug shipment distributed throughout the city by duped teenage runaways. Two of the youngsters, however, are killed in the melee, despite the Titans' efforts.

REVIEW

New Teen Titans was DC’s most important book, more important than Batman (in sales). It’s hard to think about it after seeing DC trash these characters for the last 19 years. But in 1982... boy, that was a great comic to wait for.

Of course I was barely alive in 1982, (but alive indeed), I didn’t get to know the Titans until the nineties, and even then, I didn’t have access to their comics. It wasn’t until I got access to comic shops that I was able to find them. But I am more familiar with the next volume. This volume was hard to find and I could only get my hands on trade paperbacks. Of course these days all these books are collected. So you should know, this is a good read.

I wasn’t expecting anything at all from this two-parter. They just came back from space, and instead, I get this very deep, ruthless, modern-agey story about runaway kids. And let me tell you something... it’s dark.

But you know what isn’t dark? The titans. This is something to have in mind, you don’t need your characters to be grim and gritty to be able to tell a very dark story. Ok, one of them is at risk of being possessed by a demon from another dimension... but that’s pretty much it.

Roy Harper is also back for this story, as it involves a drug dealer (who uses kids to do the dealing). This story feels just too real. And of course, it doesn’t have a happy ending, everyone is miserable in the end.

There is an actual interview to Marv Wolfman where they discuss this story (that motivated the government to ask DC to do those drug awareness stories):

MacDONALD: How about in the Runaways story? Was that both of you?

WOLFMAN: I tend to work, for the most part, with a fairly complete plot. You can always tell when George and I come up with a plot together, because the credit reads co-plotters. And there will be a separate credit that say co-creators. George gets the plots and does what he wants with them, takes away scenes, adds scenes. He never changes the story, but he will pace it his way, change the fight scenes around and whatever else and add what he wants. With the “Runaways” story he completely followed the plot. I don’t think there was a single change. He tells me that I caught without knowing it a relative of his very closely, and it made him care about the story even more. It’s the first issue of the Titans that he did full pencils, he used to do layouts on the book. And he liked the character Louis, it was very close to one of his relatives and very similar in a lot of the set-up, and I was just taking it from my own talks with runaways.

MacDONALD: I detected either restraint or constraint in that story. Did you have any Code problems with that?

WOLFMAN: No. no. We were prepared to go without the Code symbol. We submitted into the Code as we always do, and assumed that they would reject, but they didn’t. The only correction they made was we misspelled a word that they spotted. I was very much surprised. Our idea was not to hit the readers over the head with the message. I don’t like those type of stories. I just wanted it to be there, where you judge for yourself and make your own decisions. The only concept that I wanted to get through was letting people know about runaway shelters. Otherwise it was a fairly straight story.

MacDONALD: Did you do a lot of research on runaways?

WOLFMAN: Yeah. Len [Wein] and I went to a runaway shelter here [in Manhattan]. They just loaded us down with material. And took the story from that point.

MacDONALD: You did it again, the bad parents and the kids.

WOLFMAN: You know, that is a problem because it is a problem with runaways.

MacDONALD: Yeah, even though it worked in that story…

WOLFMAN: I couldn’t avoid it there. We did try to have with Luis, good parents and a bad kid. So the parents were really loving and caring, but the kid wanted freedoms that the parents in all honesty knew he wasn’t ready for, as proven in the story. The parents were good there. One of the biggest problems we discovered with runaways is not kids running away, but kids being thrown out. So in the case of the girl who was pregnant, for instance, she was actually tossed out. So a throwaway is as much of a problem as a runaway. And we could not avoid the main concept, that most kids are running away because the situation at home is bad. They are not running away for fun. it's not taking to the rails like the bums.

MacDONALD: Maybe to avoid having two bad parents, Lizzie’s mom wasn’t around.

WOLFMAN: No, she wasn’t.

MacDONALD: Was there any reason for that?

WOLFMAN: Yeah, I wanted the father to be raising the girl by himself. Because fathers would have more of a problem understanding the problems of a girl if there wasn’t a mother to temper…

MacDONALD: Well, the father could kick her out and the mother could give her cookies. Teenagers do have conflicts with their parents.

WOLFMAN: Yeah, that’s why it had to be one of the themes. We overdid it in the early issues I think. But we couldn’t avoid it in “Runaways.” I wouldn’t have even dreamed of avoiding that subject.

MacDONALD: It just seems that when you are writing about teenagers, there is too much of it.

WOLFMAN: As I said, it was a problem and I recognized it about issue #20 and decided I wouldn’t do it again. I don’t think the runaways issue did it again, I think that was a separate type of storyline, and we haven’t done it within the main thrust of the story. But that was the special case.

MacDONALD: Let’s talk a little about that. Terra…

WOLFMAN: Terra becomes a member with issue #30. Strangely enough, Mike Barr and I came in with identical characters, the same day. Mike is doing a book called The Outsiders and I wanted a new character for the Titans, and he came up with a guy who had earth powers [Geo Force], and I came up with Terra who has earth powers. And we both came in the same day so we couldn’t say who was first, and I came up with the idea of making them brother and sister. So Mike and I have cooperated to make these characters work between the two books. And Terra will be a regular character, for how long I will not say, because that ties in with some of the things we have in mind.

Where we are moving is that Wonder Girl will be getting married, and, shock of shocks, she will not be leaving the Teen Titans, and it will not affect her work in the Teen Titans. She’s marrying somebody outside the team, who’s not a super-hero.

MacDONALD: You always have a lot of plotlines, there’s Thia…

WOLFMAN: There’s a guy up in space…

MacDONALD: Yeah, what’s going to happen to the guy in space? (The Monitor).

WOLFMAN: What happened there.. that was a mistake in that everybody else didn’t pick up on it fast enough. I was creating a character for all DC to use, and I told everybody what it was, but they didn’t pass it on down to their writers. So I have to reintroduce him. I want a character who’s available, who’s called the Monitor, who keeps track of everybody and he sells information. And any writer could use it.

MacDONALD: You mean like The Watcher as a blackmailer?

WOLFMAN: Yeah. I had the character about 18 years ago. I called him the Librarian then because I didn’t have a good sense about names and thought that it would be a neat idea to do that. You know, one villain that the whole company could use. I didn’t have to sell it to Marvel, because they already had one universe, but when I came back to DC I indicated that I wanted to do it here. Everyone liked it but forgot to hand out the sheets I gave for their writers. So I have to redo it indicating how far you can take the character from month A to month B. Like for three months you can only show this much and after six months you can show that much, and at the end of a year we can reveal who that character is and start getting into interesting stories that all the writers can pick up on.

MacDONALD: So he’s going to be all around?

WOLFMAN: Oh yeah.

MacDONALD: He’s not specifically Titans?

WOLFMAN: On no.

Interesting ah?

In any case, I give this story a score of 10

[odilestory]

untitled jay x reader fic pt.1 (jason todd x reader)

This is so long oml. but i’ve had this idea for a whole minute so i thought i’d better put it down. anyway, enjoy!

---

Legs and arms crossed, you sat slumped in a cold metal chair outside your favorite coffee shop. You pushed down your sunglasses (Versace, another gift) and peered over the brims at the jumbotron in the middle of the square. A news headline.

Will Gotham’s symbol of hope and empowerment ever return? - 5 years pass since the last appearance of the beloved Nightingale - 

You push your glasses back up just in time to miss the photo shown. The last photo of you two - though, of course, no one would ever know it was you two - that was ever taken. 

Five years ago, a bystander snapped a picture of Nightingale and Robin leaning towards one another, about to have their first kiss. That photo had become iconic. There were so many theories about what happened to each of you: the young couple ran from Batman to get hitched, or you were undercover and you killed Robin and then yourself. The second one hurt.

Regardless of the picture shown, you clear your throat, take another sip of coffee and stand up to begin the walk back to your apartment where you’ll inevitably spend the rest of the day.

A few heads turn as you walk down the street. Some women are jealous of your bag (Balenciaga) or your new shoes (classic black Louboutins with the red sole). It was a hard choice today between the Louboutins and the Ralph & Russo Edens, but the black pumps were a better match with your Louis Vuitton Belted Trapeze coat and High Waisted Loos Pant. It was a no-brainer.

The only stop you made was to glance at the news again. A report about Batman and company. You walked away, rolling your eyes, as you knew that Gotham’s “heroes” weren't what they always seem. They would know if they’d been where you’d been.

---

The clean, white apartment often seemed too perfect. You didn’t deserve it, but Bruce insisted that he buy you a place to stay. After Jay’s death, living at or even visiting the manor was too much, and after your parents died (not even six months after Jason passed), you had nowhere to go. Bruce gave you a place to go because he didn’t know how else to say sorry. Sorry for killing your boyfriend. Sorry for killing your drive. For killing the one you loved.

Your cell phone rang. You felt no immediate emotion as you knew it was Dick calling to check in. He’s the only one that ever calls anyway.

- Hello?

- Hey baby-gale, how are you?

- How do you think?

- Have you been out yet today? Socialize at all?

- I got coffee. Like I do every morning. You don’t need to keep checking in. Unless there’s something you need to let me know about, you don’t need to call me every day. I can survive.

- I apologize for caring? Come on, (Y/N), we miss you. It hasn’t been the same. Hell, you don’t even know Tim or Damian yet. And when was the last time you actually went out? You’re 20 years old. At least go to a club or something. I know you can afford something right off the runway so why not wear it out? 

- I went two years ago, to the club down the street. But it was like... ugh. I watched people dance and I wanted it to be us. It was torture. Like I kept hearing his voice... I don’t want to do that to myself. 

- Try again. For me? How’bout you go out with me and Barbara. If it's too much, we’ll all leave, no problem. Your check should be at your place today. Go spend it on something to wear, we’ll meet you at Mother’s at 10.

You didn’t respond, not wanting to admit defeat. You sighed and hung up the phone, but you knew that Dick knew you would be there. 

In the meantime, you made lunch and checked your current account balance. You had $28,743.92 in your savings. It was more than enough to buy a nice look for tonight, but you wanted to wait.

Another thing Bruce did to “accommodate you” was he would send you a quarterly check of $50,000. Every three months you would receive a plain check, directly from the man himself, along with a note from him. Every note had been a plea to return. Apparently, your old suit was displayed right next to Jason’s, as if you were dead as well.

You heard the mail fall through the slot in your door and quickly sorted through the magazines, coupons, and bills to find the envelope that mattered. Sure enough, there it was. You tore it open, threw the note aside. You’d read it later. 

There it was: $50,000 from the man himself sitting in your freshly manicured fingers. You ran a nude, glossy, almond-shaped nail over the writing as you put the check down and exchanged it for the note. You unfolded the card.

(Y/N),

We’re here if you need us. Just call. For anything.

We grieve too.

B. Wayne

You folded it back up and slid it across your counter, once again grabbing the check and throwing it in a different Balenciaga bag, putting back on the Louboutins, and headed down to the bank.

---

“Well look at you!”

“Miss ‘hasn’t left the house in 5 years’ really cleans up! What is that, Valentino?”

Dick and Barbara stared at you in awe. You picked out the Michael Kors Sequined Mesh Bell-Bottom Gold Jumpsuit just because you knew it was Mother’s.

“It’s Michael Kors. Did you get us on the list?” 

Mother’s was the weirdest club you had perhaps ever stepped foot in, but it was Dick’s favorite. The club was basically straight out of the 70′s and 80′s. They only played music from those decades, and they even had a disco ball out at all times. It was cramped, but busy every night. They had great food and even better drinks, and even though you weren’t 21 you knew you could get Dick to buy a few for you.

“Of course. Come on, let's have some fun.” 

Barbara clutched Dick’s arm and you fiddled with you cobalt blue Balenciaga clutch as your heels clicked towards the bouncer.

“Name?” A large, burly man dressed nicely in a navy blue suit held a clipboard on one hand and in the other the clasp of the red rope, ready to let us through if we were eligible.

“Grayson. These two are with me.” He flashed his classic smile and motioned to you and Babs, receiving a welcoming smile in return.

“Enjoy your night.” He unhooked the rope and as you pushed through the door, you were met with colorful, flashing lights, people yelling and dancing, and very loud Duran Duran. Maybe this will be fun.

Swerving around other excited and tipsy club-goers, you all found a booth right off the dance floor and set your stuff down there. 

“We’re gonna go to the bar, want anything?” Barbara leaned close to you so you could hear over the loud music.

“Something poisonous! I’ll wait here.” You smiled and leaned on the table, flicking the sequins on your pants and shifting weight between your heels and the balls of your feet.

“We’ll be right back!” They walked away, again arm in arm. That could be you and him right now, if only he were still here.

(at the bar)

“There he is.” Dick got Barbara’s attention as he sighted the taller man sitting at the end of the bar politely declining inquiries for his number.

“Dick, are you sure this is gonna work? She doesn’t have a clue, what if it just scares her away? Pushes her further into that darkness?” She grabbed his arm, making him face her. For the first time since they came up with this plan, he was doubtful. “Dick, is he ready? You all just made up. He just healed things with Bruce. Are you sure he doesn’t need a break before he tries something like this?”

“They loved each other. They love each other. Still. Nothing is gonna change that. I have a feeling its now or never. Any longer and I think she might try and be with him the only way she thinks is possible. I don’t want her to go that far. I’m not gonna let her do what she says she wants to. I’m not gonna let her die when he’s alive. This is happening. Now or never.”

She nodded. Both were determined now. Dick waved his hand to grab his attention.

“Jason!” He looked up with relief and excused himself from the current flirt session he had been roped into. He hopped off the bar stool, leaving his drink and strode towards Dick rather hurriedly.

“Dick, I gotta be honest, I’m not sure about this, you sure she’s not gonna freak?”

“Oh, she’s gonna freak,” Barbara laughed, “But its now or never.” The couple said at the same time.

“We’re gonna bring her a drink, wait a minute or two, and we’ll get her to come dance. Ask her to dance. The music is so loud no one is gonna notice if you explain the whole coming back to life thing, so don’t worry. Explain if you have to.” Dick hurriedly motioned his plan with his hands as if it was an actual mission, and truthfully it was because he had Tim and some other “extras” scattered about in case anything went wrong, in fact, even the bouncer was in on it. Dick told him he was trying to get his two friends to make up and to not let you leave.

“Whatever you say birdbrain, but if this ruins everything, I will literally kill you.”

You had been pulled out onto the crowded, sweaty dancefloor, and were dancing with Dick while Babs was in the bathroom (she wasn’t actually in the bathroom; she was hyping up Jason, but you didn’t know that, of course).

The song stopped and you were in a happy laughing fit: you were having lots more fun than you thought you would. The next song started, it was a song that you, Dick, and Jason would all dance around to and mockingly sing along to. It was Lovemaker by Wham (not George Michael’s Wham!, the other one).

You started dancing with Dick again, making stupid faces and joking about when you were younger. He glanced behind you but quickly brought his eyes back to you again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I thought I saw Babs.”

You were about to respond with a quick “ok” when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, doll.”

You froze and looked at Dick for a second, who, instead of recognizing your discomfort, smiled at you. So you turned around, ready to correct the mistake in word choice this stranger had made.

“Sorry, I -”

To your complete surprise, you were met with a strangely familiar face.

“Wanna dance?” Very out of character for Jay, he stuttered a bit, barely speaking loud enough for you to hear.

“Wh-Jay? N-no...No! What the fuck!? You died! What the hell? What the fuck

[astoryworthoftelling]

The Princess and the Robins

Mini series Part 2

Prompt: The reader is the daughter of Oliver Queen. After six months you were back at the Wayne Manor, this time instead of only spending a two days you will be staying for a whole week. And that meant being with with the boys for a whole SEVEN days!

Remember, she is around six years old, but do not let her age fool you, she is quite smart!!

Word keys:

Y/n: Your name

The greens: Usually when kids eat, their parents refer to the vegetables as “the greens”.

The Imagine: Part 1

The mini series: Part 1

DAY 2

8:14 am

You woke up and realized you slept the hole night, besides of the bed was your tiara, with a bright smiled, you jumped out of the bed, stretched, went quickly to the bathroom and went downstairs to de kitchen where you met with everyone.

“Good morning Y/n” Bruce smiled “Did you have a good sleep?” In answer you nodded and smiled, the boys greet you and apologized for not being with you the day before, which you answered that as long they spent the day with you, they were  forgiven.

After having breakfast and changing your clothes, you walked down to the living room and saw that Damian was reading on the couch, silently you hide behind him and tried to scare him, but before you could make any move he said “Nice, try, but you will have to try harder to scare me” with a smirk he lower his book and look at you “May I ask you something?” You nodded “Why do keep trying to sneak around?”

You though for a moment and shrugged and sign “It is fun!”

“Well then, let’s look for Grayson, I bet you will scare him” He hold your hand and walked out of the room. After rambling around, you found him at the gym doing some acrobatics. You watched amused the stunts he performed and the moment he perfectly landed on hid feet you applaud eagerly.

“Your are impressed by that” You hear Damian’s complain behind your back.

“Hey y/n, Damian” He smiled as he clean the sweat over his forehead.

“Can you teach me to do that?!” You signed

“Those are some advanced moves, but we can start with something more easy” He replied with a warm smile as he grabbed your hand and took you to the nearest mat “But before we start we should do some stretching so you don't get hurt” 

Once you were ready to get started the fun began, some moves were easy to do, you had some practice before because you join your dad when he is training at home so you knew how to perfectly do summersaults, jumping jacks and you were getting close to perfectly do a cartwheel by yourself. The most challenging thing you found was the handstand, maybe it was because you were a little afraid that you would fall with your back, but Dick kept telling you that nothing was going to happen and that you should keep trying. 

You lost track of time until your stomach started rumbling, and that meant one thing it was lunch time! Once you arrive at the kitchen Alfred had already prepared some delicious sandwiches and some fruit for you, you sat on the table and without a doubt you gave a big bite, which made Alfred smile. 

13:00

Before lunch you left a little tired, but once you finished you felt so energized. So you started running all over the place, going up and down, jumping, hiding, trying to scare Damian, but you weren’t that lucky, so you decided to get another target, Tim. As you made the plan in your mind, Dick and Alfred were looking at you with certain amusement. 

“Alfred, did you gave her juice or coffee?” Said dick trying to hold a laugh.

You started to look for tim, first you thought he was in his bedroom or the video game room, when you couldn't find him you looked in other places starting by the library, the studio, the gym, the dinning room, you kept going until you gave up, Tim was nowhere to be found, so you went back to the living room and sat in the sofa.

“Hey, whats wrong” Asked Dick with a kind voice 

“I couldn't find Tim” You signed

“Oh, I see” He nodded “Well he’s out with Bruce, but I think he well be back by dinner time” You made a little frown and dick smiled “Hey, how about I teach you some advanced acrobatics” You smiled a little “And then we can have some ice cream before dinner, yeah?” 

“Yes!” You yelled and ran to the gym.

This time you did some backward rolls, you continued practicing the hand stand up by yourself and after a lot of falls you manage to do one and stand for almost five seconds, you were determined to do at least ten seconds, so you kept practicing until your arms felt like noodles.

“Agh” You complained as you laid on your back.

“Hey, you are doing great, let’s take a brake” He said kindly 

“Okay” You signed and gave him a little smile “Was it difficult when you learnt all those tricks?” You signed 

“Yeah, I had to practice for several hours, and it took me a couple of years to do all what I do now. The key is never give up” He winked and helped you get up. “Hey let’s get some ice cream” 

18:45

Unfortunately dinner was ready and you could not convince Alfred to give you some ice cream before dinner, but he assured you that if you finished your hole meal he would make you a banana split, which it was way batter than a scoop of ice cream. Everyone was ready for dinner, and because you were visiting them they were all going to eat at the dinning room, even uncle Bruce was there, he said “Gotham can survive for a couple of hours without us”.

As always the food was amazing, you loved the pasta, the meat and you ate all the greens, and you even asked for seconds, which if you dad was there he would say it was a miracle.

Even though you were full you could not resist eating the banana split, you enjoyed every bite of it and everyone at the table looked at you quite surprise, even Jason who sometimes ate a lot of food was surprised.

“I can believe she can eat all the food” Jason said

“It’s like a bottomless pit” Tim replied

“You are going to fell sick later if you don’t slow down y/n” Damian told you as he drank some water.

“I won't get sick” You signed, once you finished you smiled and noticed that everyone was looking at you “What?” you signed.

“Nothing” Everyone replied 

“Sure...” You replied in signs 

You got off the table and took the plates to the dishwasher, you walked towards alfred and thanked him for the dinner.

“You are welcome, miss y/n” He smiled “Would you like to have a bubble bath?”

“Yeah, thank you, can it have a lot of bubbles?” You signed

19:50

There were a lot of bubbles, Tim thought it was a good idea to give you a little water prof speaker with your favorite disney songs. They left you with the door ajar, so they could check on you, once you were in you played with some toys you brought, you sang along with the songs, you knew every word, and for the boys surprise you had a beautiful voice.

Damian was the first to hear you sing, as he sat outside the bathroom listening your perfect tunes, then Jason joined him, then Alfred, Dick with Tim and at last Bruce, who was surprised seeing everyone outside.

“Is every-” He started saying and quickly interrupt by everyone else 

“She is singing” Damian said in a whisper 

“Oh” Bruce said as soon he heard you

After a couple of minutes the water started to get cold, so you picked the towel “Ah, cold, cold, cold” you said quietly, but loud enough for the boys to hear you and go somewhere else before you got out. You put on your pajamas. Alfred stayed and knocked the door before coming in “Everything ok miss y/n?” You nodded and smiled.

“Was the bubble bath fun?” He asked as he walked with you to your room

“Yeah” You signed “Before I go to bed I want to say goodnight to everyone” You smiled “Do you know where they are?”

“Yes, I believe they are at the living room” You walked with him and found everyone talking about something, you didn't get what it was but when you arrived they all stopped talking.

“I just wanted to say goodnight” You smiled 

“Goodnight y/n” Said Damian

“Goodnight princess” Jason said

Tim and dick gave you a hug and a goodnight kiss and uncle bruce carry you to your bedroom “Goodnight y/n” he smiled as he tucked you “Your dad says he loves you and that he is happy that you are having a good time”

“I am having a god time” you said

For Bruce’s surprise for the first time, you didn’t signed to him, which made him very happy. “I am happy to hear that, see you tomorrow kid” He smiled and gave you a goodnight kiss.

You smiled and fall asleep.

[mosaicabstract]

Has anyone answered yet? I love the robins. I especially love Damian. He's such a brat. I adore him being obnoxious while the other Robins try to ignore him. Also that he like him well enough if he would stop being the son of Batman and the son of Talia Al Ghul and the Grandchild of R'ah... so many different reasons to be a bit entitled. But all Batfam is awesome. Batman being himself is amazing too.

(ok, so this is going to be kind of weird, but here’s the thing. i’ve been sitting on this massive unfinished batfam fic for over a year and i’m never going to finish it so instead of writing a new drabble... i’m just gonna post it here. it’s much longer than a drabble and not finished and could either be shippy in the sense of jaydick or seen as just brotherly bonding but there’s some damien and tim in there as well at the end. let me know if you want another drabble and i’ll write you one!!! i just figured that i’m never gonna finish this thing but i like it, so i might as well let it see the light of day....)

*

Despite the shitty lighting from the single, dying securitylamp at the mouth of the alleyway, Jason knows it’s him. There’s no possibleway to mistake him: the long, sinewy arms, the straight line of his spine, hisimpeccable posture… the “OG” boy wonder himself. He can’t even see the brightblue bird strapped across his chest but he knows it’s there. He doesn’t evenknow how acrobat boy got there; probably some death defying shit, but hedoesn’t have time for this.

Putting out his cigarette and sliding his helmet back on, hewatches as Dick slinks stealthily along the dark alleyway, silent but visible, which is his first mistake.

Did Daddy teach younothing, Dickieboy? Bruce always drilled it into Jason that it was betterto be heard rather than seen. Sound can be distorted. Sight is vulnerability.And here he is, sitting on the roof of a modestly high-roofed bank, watchingthe asshole he used to quietly idolize, his brother of circumstance, crownjewel of their fucked-up little family, make an idiot out of himself in anattempt to stop the hostage situation currently happening right underneathJason’s ass in the bank below.

What pisses him off the most is that he has this under control. Yes it’s technically closer to Blüdhaventhan to Gotham Proper, but on the outskirts. Maybe technically Nightwing’s territory, yes, but Jason got here first, and some childish part of himthinks that’s good enough reason for him to handle this solo.

He’s in the middle of his own variety of trying to fix thesituation: stay on top of things (literally), watch, and wait for the perfectopportunity to shoot off a couple of rounds through the slightly openedskylight beside him into the base of these motherfuckers’ skulls. He has aperfect view of the bank through the propped-up skylight cover, and all three perps,but the time hasn’t been right yet. They’re too busy flirting with the cops,jeering threats from behind ski masks. Besides which, they’re too antsy. He cansee the way they shift around, nervously looking at all of the exits, waitingfor something (or someone, likely with a cape) to jump out and foil theirscheme. They haven’t gotten comfortableyet.

The second any ofthe prickless pieces of shit holed up below him set eyes on a masked vigilanteof any sort (let alone a pretty boy in a leotard), they’ll blow the brains outof the three hostages they currently hands on with guns to their heads. They’vethreatened as much to the police, at least, and maybe they don’t have the ballsto actually do it, but Jason knows that people like himself exist in the world,people who pull the trigger first and find time for guilt later. And there’s always time for guilt.

Dick pauses in front of the back entryway to the bank, mutteringinto his wrist comm too quietly to be heard. Jason assumes he’s calling home toBabs, trying to get an update on the situation or a shred of information thatwill help him carry out his mission.

Jason lifts his pointer and middle finger and his thumb, forminga hand-gun which he aims carefully down at the dark form below him.

“Boom,” he whispers, pulling the imaginary trigger, thinkingof just how easy it would be forsomeone even half as good a shot as him, at his same angle, to splatter Dick’sgenius brains all over the grimy brick and asphalt. Clearly, regardless of allthe bullshit he’s seen in the world, Dick Grayson is far too trusting ofhumanity. Of circumstance. Taking down the bad guys is what Dick lives for,helping people out, but he’d never expect something so random and brutal tohappen as someone watching him, stalking him, taking him out when he’svulnerable.

But that wouldn’t do, would it? Jason imagines that any painBruce felt after he died, he wouldfeel it tenfold more if his precious Richard were to snuff it. But Bruce’sreaction isn’t the one that gnaws at him, makes him shutter. Tim would likelymalfunction like a glitched operating system and implode if his hero were todie. Babs would wreak havoc on the world at large. And then there’s the little shitheadheir apparent. Jason finds it hilarious hearing stories about how Damian usedto despite and mock Dick to no end when now he would likely burn down the worlddefending Dick’s honor, possibly even over his own father’s.

Dick has that effect on people. Always has. Jason, back whenhe still donned the campy ol’ red, yellow and greens, had harbored a borderlineobsessive crush on the older boy, even if he’d only catch glimpses of him.Dick, always a gentleman to strangers (nice strangers that weren’t trying tokill him), had regarded him with a sort of hesitant kindness that Jason didn’tfully understand until Jason saw Tim in costume the first time. The feeling ofbeing replaced cut deep, even if deep down he knows now that he couldn’t haveasked for a better protégé to pass the torch to. He likes Timmy. Knows he’s a good kid. Knows that Dick probably neverfelt that sort of acceptance and appreciation about him as Robin, but he can’tblame him. Tim’s as noble as Dick. Jason’s always been the unstable fuse in thecircuit.

For a while, things seem to calm down from a boil to asimmer, the hostages huddled back in the corner of the bank behind the welcomedesk silent with the robbers staying spread out, sometimes shouting commandsout to one another. One of them shuffles back toward the vault in the back, outof Jason’s sight, and he curses. He glances back down at Dick, and at the samemoment he does, the emergency light goes out with a purposeful buzz.

Now all he can see is the dark, sinister outline ofNightwing traced against the shadowy brick and it sends a thrill down hisspine.

“Jay,” Dick greets darkly.

“Dickhead,” Jason retorts, smirking and leaning forward,“fancy seeing you here.”

“Lay off. This one’s mine.”

“I got here first.”

“Don’t be so childish.”

“I’m not the one in tights.”

He can sense Dick’s scowl rather than see it, and it makeshim laugh.

“Chill out, Grayson. I’ve got this. I have eyes on two ofthem and I know the location of the third… it’ll be as easy as skipping rockswhen the time comes.”

“Sorry Jason,” Dick responds, moving even further into theshadows and out of Jason’s field of vision. “You know I can’t let you do that.”

Jason can’t help but roll his eyes, tugging off his mask sohe can fully glower down into the darkness in hopes that Dick can see howunamused he is.

“Not gonna happen, bird brains. Not interested in fightingyou tonight when three teenage girls have guns to their heads right now andnineteen more hostages are crammed in a corner, waiting to die. I’m gonna dealwith this how it’s supposed to bedealt with.”

“It can be dealtwith,” Dick says in the dangerous voice he usually only reserves for Bruce whenthey’re on bad terms, “in a way that doesn’t involve murder.”

Jason laughs, maybe a bit louder than he intends to, but itforces its way up out of his esophagus like a mocking tune. “This is why we’llnever see eye to eye. You’re too much like him,Dickiebird. Too righteous. Too ‘moral’. Maybe I’ll of let these cocksuckerswalk away with shattered tibias and blunt force trauma if, and only if, theydon’t put a bullet into any of those little girls, or the other hostages. Ifthey do, they’re dead. And you can’t stop me.”

Dick stays silent for a long moment and Jason imagines himwith that look of righteous fury etched onto his pretty face that he used tolong to wear himself but could never quite get it right.

Before Dick can respond, however, Jason can hear the heavysound of gunfire. It shakes the foundation of the building and makes his earsring. With a practiced instinct, he stands and yanks his handguns out of hisbelt in one motion, both pointer fingers resting on triggers. Out of the cornerof his eye he sees a flash of neon blue from below as Dick finally makes a moveto kick down the back door. At the same moment, on top of another chorus ofgunfire, he hears a cop out front yell into a radio:

“No hostages dead, just injured! They just shot at a copbecause he got too close! Hold your fire, goddammit!”

Shit.

The thoughts move through Jason’s mind at the speed of soundas he flies into action. His thought process is as follows:

1.      He and Bruce have their issues, this much istrue, but he doesn’t hate him enough to allow him to experience the pain oflosing another kid. Another robin. Heseemed pretty broken up about him after the Joker blew him up, or so he’sheard, and Jason can’t fathom what his reaction would be if his precious Dickwas killed. Possibly apocalyptic.

2.      As much as he thinks Dick is a cocky, pompous,over-optimistic fuckhead sometimes who’s too kind for his own good as a masked hero,he doesn’t deserve to die.

3.      If Dick does,in fact, end up six feet under because of this little mishap, Jason’s going tomake sure to pump lead into whoever’s responsible. He won’t go unavenged. Notlike Jason did.

In the same second that Dick launches himself through theback door, Jason kicks the latch of the skylight fully open and shatters theglass with his boot, jumping down into the chaos below.

He lands with practice, bouncing off his heels and rollinginto a kneeling position with guns out. Quickly, he assesses what he sees infront of him.

The three perps are spread evenly in a triangular fashionthroughout the store. The first is standing near the front glass swinging doorswith his hostage carefully positioned to be in view of the police with a gun toher head. The second’s back near the teller booths, hostage sitting in a chairin front of them. The third is back near the vault against the wall, his ownhostage seemingly handcuffed to him. He assigns them names in his head: FuckerA, Fucker B, and Fucker C.

Dick’s coming in from the back, closest to Fucker B.

What happens next happens fast.

Jason gets eyes on the robber nearest to him, Fucker A, a builtman with combat boots and tattoos covering his pale arms. He rages like a bullwhen he sees Nightwing and charges, hostage still under his arm, but Jason getsa bullet in his head before he has time to harm her or Dick. After making surethe hostage crawls to safety with the others, out of the corner of his eye,Jason sees Dick pivot to look at him in a fluid motion that he imagines wouldlook like shock on anyone else. But all he sees is a grimace.

“Hood, what the hell are you-”

Jason sees Fucker B fling his hostage aside and pull thetrigger before he can swing his own gun on him, and it’s followed by thedisgusting sound of flesh ripping and bone snapping. Dick’s left shoulder jerksback and the rest of his body goes with it in one fluid motion. He doesn’t godown right away, but manages to take a few steps over to a pillar for support.Jason shoves this information temporarily to the back of his mind, ignoring theanger threatening to force its way out of his chest and into his throat likebile. With gusto, he turns one of his guns on Fucker B, seeing a glimmer offear flash across his shiny eyes from behind the mask before he squeezes thetrigger, watching as his bullet lodges itself in his skull right between hiseyes. With hard eyes, he turns toward the Fucker C, who’s backed up against thewall with his own hostage.

“Don’t fucking move,” Fucker C says from under his mask,reaching behind himself and retrieving a small black device with a shaky hand.“One funny move and I blow this fuckingplace straight to hell!”

It’s rigged to blow. Whyis it always rigged? Jason’s eyes dark back to the slightly askew vaultdoor behind C, imagining that the explosives have likely been set up in there. Somethingakin to panic nags at the back of his mind – some post-traumatic bullshit maybe,sometimes his constant and forceful repression doesn’t always hold up – but heignores it and instead turns to look at the crumpled figure of Dick Graysonslumped against a pillar, a hand pressed to the gushing wound in his claviclearea.

“I won’t touch you,” Jason grunts at him, tossing down hisguns. “Just let me go make sure this idiot isn’t dying.”

“You think I give a shit about your friend dying, man? Youjust killed my brothers!”

Jason glowers at the little shit and looks down at the twocorpses he just made.

“Listen, I get it. ‘Desperate times call for desperatemeasures’. But these hostages? Children? Really,dude?”

“Just… don’t…fucking move.”

Fucker C’s voice cracks and Jason sighs, trying to gaugejust how young he could be. Seventeen, eighteen… poor kid. Maybe he was evenforced into doing this by his brothers, told to stay put in the back with thebomb trigger in case worst came to worst. And now they’re lying on the floormotionless, and it appears that worst has indeed come to worst.

Jason holds up his hands, palms forward.

“Listen, what would you rather? Me walking ten steps in thatdirection to help him stop bleeding, or all of us dying? Because let me tell you, buddy… getting blown upis not an ideal way to go.” Not that I’d know any other ways, butgetting blown up wasn’t exactly pleasant. Or painless. Or quiet.

Fucker C seems to contemplate his offer, falling intosilence and staring over at where Dick is starting to slump forward. He shrugs;a quick, twitchy movement of his shoulder.

“Fine. But put all your weapons on the floor. Now.”

“Already did, kid.”

“All of them.”

Smartass. Jasonpulls the taser out of his jacket and the blade out of its ankle strap andtosses them both on the ground before putting his hands back in the air andmaking his way over to Dick, slowly. The last few steps turn into a sprint ashe slides down beside him, gritting his teeth.

“Dammit, Grayson,” he snarls quietly. “Why couldn’t you havejust left this one for me?”

Dick’s eyes shoot up to look at him like two blue flares,slightly hooded and out of focus.

“Didn’t know you were gonna be here,” he grits out. “But Iwould’ve still come if I did…”

Jason sees Dick look past him at the two bodies on theground and rolls his eyes. Typical Grayson, trying to claim the moral highground even in a situation like this.

“Whatever.” Jason pulls Dick’s hand away from the entrywound and presses his own hands down to it in an attempt to stop the bleeding,but the blood gushes out through his fingers in a slow trickle down over hisfingerless gloves and down his wrists. He shutters thinking about having toscrub it off later, regardless of the outcome. He quickly calculates thatDick’s probably lost about two pints of blood so far, which explains whybeneath his fingers Dick starts to shiver violently, probably slipping intoshock. “Hey,” Jason chides, shaking his shoulder a bit. “Keep your eyes open,Nightwing.”

Dick does as he’s told, but his eyes are glossy and distant,staring upwards past him like something – maybe his life, maybe not – isflashing before his eyes. They seem to be moving in a sweeping motion up anddown, and Jason wonders briefly if he’s having a blood loss-induced vision ofthe night his parents died, something he only knows the vague details of.

Soon, maybe in three, five minutes, Dick will faint, andsoon after that he’ll be dead, leaving Jason with very few options except toact quickly and hazardously. He swears and pats Dick down, trying to find anyof Bruce’s fancy tech that could ignite a flame. He comes up short, cursingDick for having decided to run light tonight.

It’s a huge gamble, but he figures he could out-wit the kidwith the bomb. The only problem is the hostage. He’ll have to be fast enough,take out the kid efficiently without the girl with long black hair gettingcaught in the crossfire. She doesn’t even look twelve. Then again, the kiddoesn’t even look eighteen. If there’s an option to put him down withoutkilling him, Jason would take it without question. He often saw them – young,ignorant juveniles with fear in their eyes – and thought of himself beforeBruce had plucked him off the streets only to put him back out onto them as aweapon.

He needs a gun, though. One of his automatic hand guns, sohe could fire a few rounds into the ceiling and get the barrel hot enough toclose the wound. He’s never done it before… but in theory, it should work. Shockingly,this isn’t something learned from the League of Shadows, but rather the Bathimself. Bruce had taught him a lot of fucked up ways to save a life; ways toclose a wound, ways to get a heart up and started again, ways to reverse theeffects of arsenic poisoning. All things cute little boy wonder Jason hadlistened to eagerly while hoping never to use.

“This might not end well,” Jason mutters to him beforestanding again and slowly turning toward the kid.

“Listen.” He takes a step forward, eyeing his guns layingstrewn on the clean tile. “We need to work something out here. Why don’t youjust give this up and walk out of that door, alive, with your hands up? Thepigs will treat you much better than I will, or whatever bomb you’ve riggedback there. You have a choice, right now, to live. Are you gonna take it?”

Silence. The kid looks like he wants to collapse and cry,his eyes scrunched up and wet. Jason takes another small step forward, one thatputs his toe right up against the butt of one of his guns. The kid flincheshugely and lets go of the girl, pointing his gun at Jason.

“Don’t FUCKING move!” he screams. Jason puts his hands backup in the air, watching as the girl scrambles to safety over to her parents,who envelop her in their arms and sob.

“I’m not. Relax.”

“Move and this place goes sky-high.”

“I’m not moving,kid. Breathe. Set down the trigger, and the gun, and walk away. It’s thatsimple.”

He hopes that behind him, Dick’s still conscious and eatingall this mercy shit up.

But then that just reminds him of Dick. Dick’s dying, anymoment now. He doesn’t have time forthis.

He gives the kid five seconds to make up his mind. Five. He considers it generous.

After quietly counting in his head, Jason moves. He lurchesforward, tipping the gun up with his foot to get a good handle of it and surgesforward, aiming for his head.

In the same second that he squeezes the trigger, the kidsqueezes the button. Jason sees it, the smallest of movements, and he canalmost feel whatever’s in the vault cometo life. When the kid falls, dead, Jason stays perfectly still, waiting for theexplosion, waiting for the all-too-similar searing pain of fire tearing throughflesh and bone, tossing him through the air like he weighs nothing. The fear hewas holding back, pressing below his diaphragm for Dick, rushes up in a floodand makes him dizzy, makes his vision swim. His helmet suddenly feels like it’ssqueezing, closing in on him, and everything’s too hot and too close.

He falls to his knees, dropping his gun to clutch at hishelmet and scream, his throat closing and his heart pounding so hard it feelslike it might burst out of his ribcage to wreak havoc on his other organs. Fora fraction of a second he’s thereagain, bleeding out, watching the electric glow of the timer numbers as theyburn his retinas. But then, there was peace. He accepted it, he let it happen. Thereisn’t peace now. No, now he knows what it feels like to have every bone in yourbody broken, all of your skin charred and peeling off the muscle. He knows whatit’s like to die, to know you’redying, to feel it happen…

Not again. Not fuckingagain.

But the pain never comes. Jason glances up, glances at allthe hostages staring at him, waiting for some kind of cue.

It makes no sense. Werethey lying? No, he wouldn’t have bothered to press the button. And Jason heard it, the hum of circuits coming tolife. He felt the way the air stills before it gets assaulted with energy andfire.

It dawns on him then that they’re likely hanging in adelicate balance of the bomb having been triggered but not detonated. It’s afluke, a glitch, and it could go off at anyminute.

The panic comes back, but this time it has determination tofight with.

Any movement, any vibration of the floor, could detonate theexplosives. The bomb’s both lit and unlit. He’s sitting right the fuck insideof Schrödinger’s Bank.

“No one move,” he says after he’s sure his voice will work. It’s hoarse, and he still feels like he’sfighting his own throat to stay open, but it comes out in a serious enough tonethat the group of hostages, who were starting to get restless to find a way tothe exit, stop dead in their tracks. “The bomb didn’t go off, but that doesn’tmean it won’t.” His mind is swimming. All he wants to do is get the fuck out of there, get Dick the fuck out of there, but he’sstill Batman’s son, no matter how hard he tries not to be. To be better.

He looks back at Dick to find him still awake, watching himwith bleary eyes. There’s some sort of sealed sticker over his wound –something Jason assumes is one of Bruce’s gadgets – and it seems to be haltingthe bleeding. He must’ve gotten Babs on the comm to ask what to do. She alwaysknows what to do.

With Dick stable, he has to find a way to get everyone elseout alive.

“We have a better chance of survival if we go out in pairs.Two bye two, children first. Crawlcarefully toward the exit, on your knees and forearms, sliding. Tell the copswhat’s happening, see if they can get the bomb squad here as fast as they can.”He’s shocked at how calm he sounds compared to what he’s feeling, the way hismind’s reeling and his body feels like it’s shutting down from panic.

He watches as they organize themselves, sending out the girlwith long black hair and a kid that looks like her little brother, obviouslythe youngest in the group. They carefully slide along, but their shufflingbecomes a bit frantic.

“Slower,” he tells them, gesturing to them with his palmdown, “gently.  Like you’re on ice.”

They follow his instructions, sliding gingerly across thetile. Jason thanks the stars that it isn’t hardwood. Eventually, they breakthrough the front door slowly. Against the flood of headlines and neon red andblue, he makes out the outline of three cops rushing forward to collect them.

Two down, nine to go.

“Nightwing,” Jason calls behind him without turning hishead, “how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, Hood,” is Dick’s reply. “A bit woozy, but I’mfine.” He pauses, drawing in a wheezy breath that makes Jason nervous again.“So do you think it’s gonna blow?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Seriously.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I doknow. It’ll go off unless it’s diffused. Which I’m sure I can do, but it’svolatile. Any vibration, any movement, hell, a light breeze could set that thing off. When I set foot in there I need toknow everyone’s out. Including you.”

He glances back again, Dick looking at him with some kind ofshadow over his eyes, his lips pressed into a hard line.

“Jay- Hood. Youneed to get out of this too. There’s no sacrificing yourself this time, okay?You’re not getting blown up again. I won’t allow it. B won’t allow it.”

Jason shutters but lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Shut up. You’re down, I’m fine, I’m going to figure thisout. I’d rather not get blown up again either.”

“I’d have liked not to have gotten shot again, but sometimesthings don’t work out the way we want them to. You get out after them, I’llstay and try and diffuse the bomb.”

“I should shoot you again for even suggesting that,” Jasonall but snarls, feeling his fists clench up by his sides.

     He turns his attention back to the hostages, now in theirfinal stages of escape. A middle-aged woman helps an elderly man shuffle hisway across the floor on his stomach. And then, and then, they’re out. And then it’s just Dick, him, and the bodies hemade.

“Go,” Dick urges and Jason turns on him, risking themovement, just to glare venomously.

God, Jason thinks,why does he have to be such a martyr?Jason’s over the sacrifice bullshit. If it meant saving Dick’s life, fine. Butjust because he isn’t afraid of death anymore doesn’t mean he isn’t afraid of dying, no matter how much he’d like todeny or deflect. He realizes then that no, this bomb’s not worth diffusing. Thebomb’s not worth his life. He grins.

“Shut the fuck up,Grayson. You’re gonna live another day to listen to that stupid fucking pop music you love so much, eata thousand pieces of pizza and never gain a goddamn pound, and make Bats so, so proud. And I’m gonna live another dayto torment you for all of it.”

The corner of Dick’s lip quirks as he lifts his head, hiseyes so tired but brimming with somerenewed sense of hope.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Jason slides carefullydown to his stomach, slithering across the tile slowly. Dick lets out a weaklaugh.

“How are you gonna get me out, then? Am I gonna ride on yourback like a giant snake with a saddle or something?”

“Where the hell do you think of these things, Grayson?”Jason can’t help but laugh as well. “You’re gonna lay down on top of me andwe’re both gonna slither out of her like a fucking snake, okay?”

Dick looks down at him dubiously when he reaches him, butJason simply gives him a wicked smile.

“Climb aboard, circus boy.”

Dick snorts.

“I’m so never gonna let you live this down, Jaybird.”

The nickname warms Jason from somewhere inside of him hedidn’t know existed anymore. Dick whimpers a bit as he bends over, his bodypressing down into Jason’s back. He starts sliding.

Then he hears it: the tinny, obnoxious beeping of a timerset to go off from somewhere behind them. The glitch fixed itself.

No.

He dumps Dick off of him, who rolls to the ground with asurprised oof and a wince, beforestanding and lifting him, sprinting as fast as his legs will take them withtheir combined weight bearing down. And damn,Dick is lean as hell but he’s all muscle. It’s like carrying the concretelikeness of a normal person, but allhe concentrates on his his feet hitting the tiles at a decent pace, carryingthem forward.

They make it to the door, and for a beat Jason smells thefresh air and hears the screeching sirens and the cops yelling at them before awave of hot air and fire propels them forward violently, and Jason has a momentto think about how he might have made it out on the right side of the explosionthis time before everything goes black.

  **

 “Drake, I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but staringintently at him will not wake him up.”

“Shut up, Damian. I’m trying to detect eye movement. Ithought I saw his eyes twitching, meaning he’s entering REM sleep, meaning heshould be awake soon.”

“Whatever.  I am goingto go make sure Grayson’s not in an indecent amount of pain.”

Jason feels the bed shift from under him, meaning thatlittle shit was sitting on his bed.Unusual behavior, at best. Suspicious behavior at worst. The room falls quietagain.

“Jay,” Tim says softly. “I know you’re awake. Yourbreathing’s changed.”

“You do make it your business to know everything,” Jasonsighs, opening his eyes blearily. He half expects to see the sterile whiteceilings of a hospital, but is instead met with the Green Day poster he oncepinned to his ceiling in his Wayne Manor bedroom. Fuck.

“Twerp.” Jason attempts to sit and winces. Broken ribs. Wonderful.“What the hell am I doing here?”

“Bruce insisted you come here so he and Alfred could lookafter you.”

Jason resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard he snaps hisown neck.

“How’s Dick?”

Tim chuckles.

“Awake, raising hell, trying to do things to the point whereBruce has the physically restrain him… the usual.”

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

“A Little Bit of Training”

A Beast Boy and Robin centric fic that I FINALLY manage to finish before midnight which my B Day will end. Takes places after “Confrontation”

@lightdusk, Happy B day to me, Here’s my gift to you. 

BAM!

BOOM!

BLAM!

The punches echoed throughout the gym with vigor with yet another punching bag broken off its chains and slammed to the wall along with the other 6.

Robin breathed heavily afterwards. In spite of landing blows that would’ve flat out destroyed 40 Slade-bots within six minutes, the smirking and cocky image of Benito Zucco burned in his eyes, taunting him to no end. Once able to compose himself and breathe out, Robin, in his gi in which he wore seeking training from the True Master but with a black belt now, walked over to the spare bags they had in use and almost as quickly set it up on the chain. As he prepared for another round, Robin’s hearing immediately picked up the doors opening.

“Dude, how many of those things are you going to slam against the wall like that? It’s 3 am for Pete’s sake!” Beast Boy moaned as he approached Robin clad in his usual suit minus his sneakers thus allowing his toes to breathe whenever he went to bed. As he walked to Robin slowly, the Boy Wonder began another build up of punches to the bag with some sand already beginning to show.

“Sorry Beast Boy, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I just needed some steam to let off and…”

“Some steam” Beast Boy questioned, “um, dude, there’s a good difference between some steam, and enough to boil about three entire fields worth of broccoli like what you’re doing. I get you’re trying to chill out in light of everything that has been happening lately but…”

At that moment, another large BLAM sounded off in the room as the punching bag flew into the wall with the other used ones. Robin however didn’t immediately sought to get another bag as he was occupied looking out the bloodied knuckles on both his hands and feet, groaning in spite of himself. Beast Boy immediately rushed over to his boss and help looked over his hands, seeing the damage. At the moment without Robin even knowing about it, Beast Boy helps walk him over to the nearest wall where the two take a seat against said wall.

Silence ensures between the two for a good minute. The two boys there just can’t have their eyes focus on anything let alone each other since their thoughts were busying being somewhere else yet at a similar place at the same time. Their thoughts were that of what Beast Boy had said were what was happening throughout the last month or two; from Mary Grayson’s return to life, the reveal of the Court of Owls not only being real but now beginning an expansion into the city they have protected for years, and now a mayor candidate with both former criminal connections and knowing of who they are and what’s going on behind the scenes. Beast Boy, real name Garfield Logan, was always an optimist in situations like this, whenever things started going the toilet after a dinner at Habenero’s and always seems to try cheering everyone up. He doesn’t try taking things too seriously according to his teammates as a result of this. This contrasts with Robin whom while an optimist like himself, distinctively strives for the job he undertakes all the stress and uber thick-headedness he purposively must endure for his friends. Simply put as Cyborg once put it, “That guy takes himself way too seriously”. If that particular incident wasn’t enough to prove it, then the blistering knuckles were and Robin realizes such right now. Still though, the flawless movements and grace his mother used in her escapes still baffled him. Just was he really that far behind? He had grown too soft? No, that can’t be it; time and time again his friends and especially Starfire have proven to give him the strength needed to triumph over his opponents. But then again, Beast Boy might’ve been a Doom Patrol member, undergoing a training somewhat less merciful than his; at least Bruce always patched up his cuts and bruises before chewing him out over a slip up; from what he remembers with his mission with the Doom Patrol, Mento definitely placed a heavy dosage of pressure even more so yet he’s Beast Boy being the cheerful and laid back semi soldier he was the day he literally rammed a rampaging Starfire, saving his sorry butt…

“Dude?” Beast Boy asks, finally breaking the silence between them.

“Yeah?”

“You ok?”

Looking to his barely healing knuckles, Robin commented “I think so, damage could’ve been a lot worse and I think we’re all out of bags anyways”

Beast Boy chuckles lightly “actually there’s two left”

With that remark another few seconds of silence comes between them. They know they have to address something nut they didn’t really know how…at least until…

“Du...” “Beast Boy…”

Robin then says, “You first.”

“Are you thinking about your mom?”

“Pretty much, along with what Zucco might do to her if I can’t stop him or these Court guys who brought her back in the first place.”

“Well, I get you mean, after all she has your flesh and blood and we’ve got to look out for that, no matter how messed up it can get.”

Robin raised an eyebrow as Beast Boy continued

“I just saying that…well…family’s family…yeah, I mean sometimes there’s some family’s that’ll smack you around during childhood out of …I don’t know…maybe they drank too much or trying to teach you a lesson or two and in the end you want to move away from there when the time is right and rightfully get away from that crap. But if anything happens to them, whether being justifying in being arrested or even cleaning up themselves years later and working their butts off to make it up and not expecting anything in return, you have to know that they’re your family and…well…you have to know they are what made you…you, whether on purpose or not.”

“Beast Boy, that’s surprisingly profound.”

Beast Boy doubles takes at that “Oh…I was just kinda bit getting lost in my thoughts right there, dude. It’s nothing to fret over about.”

“Well, I have to say you pretty hit the nail on the head right there. I know I’ve been a little too focused lately but I hope you get that…she’s my mom…I have to do something about it…”

“You think the ‘accident’ is going to happen again?” Beast Boy asks

Robin pauses for a bit to collect himself or else silent sobs would’ve come to him

“Pretty much”

“We’ll rescue her, from herself and whoever’s after her. If you think we can do it, you can count your butt that we can.”

Robin looks at his green skinned partner and notices a determination in him unseen since the final assault on the Brotherhood of Evil, in which founded the Titans International. Once said determination hits Beast Boy’s eyes, they know they are bound to win through and the odds tip in his friends’ favor. A small and gentle smirk comes to face.

“Thanks Beast Boy”

Unbeknownst to Robin, Beast Boy’s little speech was not an easy one to pull since undergoing a parent loss like Robin and not getting the right to see his mother, Marie Logan one more time whereas Robin does kinda bit throws him off in the tiniest slight. But Garfield digresses, he helped pull out his boss from hurting himself even more than he had and got him to chill for real. Just as he was about to stand and make his way back to bed, he notices Robin’s attempt to stand on his bruised feet only to slightly stumble, prompting Garfield to shoulder his leader and walk him over to his bed room.

On their way there, however, Robin asks,

“Do you miss your mom?”

Garfield Logan paused in his tracks

“…Yeah, Yeah I do”

“How do you deal with it?”

Garfield raises an eyebrow as Robin pulls off his domino mask, revealing the crystal blue eyes of Richard John Grayson-Wayne Llodveski.

“I don’t mean anything personal Gar; I’m just curious to know.”  

“…I just simply say to myself every night that she always loves me for who I am and what I can do now that I’m older.”

“I see…”

Garfield at this point had reached Robin’s room and his boss was able to take his seat on bed while subconsciously, he takes a seat on the floor.

“You know, dude, I can tell you how she was back when I was little” Garfield piped up a bit as he had a feeling maybe he can…just get a nice chat between him and Robin.

Richard, getting probably the same sense of opportunity to talk to his partner, folds his arms across his chest “Well, you can tell me, I have all night”

Thus for this night, Garfield Logan had given to his boss and friend Dick the details of how his mother was, from her very intelligent answers to his science questions, the way she would hum African tunes during their treks across savannahs and how gentle hands always gave him a hand whenever his curious sense of touch wished to check the nearest shrub next to him.

Their conversation lasted throughout the night, going back and forth between their mothers and pointing the similarities between their teachers, even to the point of a Pre-Robin Batman actually encountering the Doom Patrol while Beast Boy himself was a member.

Come sunrise, the conversation continued but not the subject in which by the time, Beast Boy smelled bacon, no doubt Cyborg trying to finally make that dream Meat Filled Breakfast buffet behind his Tofu filled watch. Before he was about to rush to kitchen to stop the metal Titan, Robin says to him

“Just don’t tell Starfire about what we discussed here alright?”

“No problem, Dude. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“And your Terra secret is safe with me.”

Garfield blushed. ‘It better…”

[ellana-ravenwood]

And when I’m gone... - Bruce Wayne/Batfam x Reader

Summary : The Batfamily’s reaction to your death...

I just wanted to write a sad piece today, because of reasons, so...yeah. Hope you’ll still like it, and that it’s not too shitty :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_______________________________________________________________________

You promised you’d fight, and fight you did. With all your energy...but it wasn’t enough. It took you away from them anyway.

As Jason would say : “Cancer’s a bitch”. 

This sickness was wickedly cruel. It gave so much false hope to your children and husband...A few days before you died, you were getting better, doctors were hopeful, you started to really have a chance. You felt better than you ever did in that last year, and you thought that maybe, just maybe, you’d get to see your babies grow up into the wonderful adults you were sure they’d became, and you were going to be able to grow old with your Bruce. However, the disease had another idea, and after this almost miraculous recovery...you got worst than ever and were dead before the end of the week.

Cancer’s a bitch. 

In the span of a short little year, it had taken you to the grave, and left behind six broken men. Or rather, two men and four boys who would have to learn how to be men without you. 

Alfred Pennyworth. Since the very first day Bruce took you home, he considered you part of the family, going to the extent of telling you more than once that he loved you like a daughter. After all, you were the one that gave a little light to Bruce’s world at the time, and the only one able to deal with his shit every hours of the day, never giving up on him. Just because of that, he couldn’t do anything else but love you. Besides, you two had multiple taste in common, and you spent countless nights watching theater, playing chess, talking about anything and everything. You were one of his favorite people in the World. He loved the way you always spoke your mind, but were never mean or unfair. He loved how your smile and jokes could suddenly turn your sons and husband's frown upside down. He just loved your presence in general. Right before you died, you were playing a particularly suspenseful game of chess with him, and he couldn’t find the will to put it away, even though you were now gone since over a month...Every time he passed next to it, a game forever unfinished, he couldn’t hold his tears. Oh he missed you so dearly...

Richard Grayson. Dickie. Your eldest son. He remembered when he arrived in Wayne Manor and met you for the first time. You were so gentle, so nice and beautiful, that he wasn’t able to stop the smile shining on his face. You were the first to make him smile since his parents’ death, and you would continue to provoke such reactions in him. The day he asked you if it was ok to call you “mom”, and if his own mother would be mad at him if he did...You pulled him into the best hug he ever had. Comforting, loving, caring. A mother’s embrace. He knew from that day on you’d always get his back, and you always did indeed. When he learned that you were very sick, he acted like everything was OK. He kept smiling, laughing and making terrible jokes, for your sake. He knew you, he knew you couldn’t bear the thought of any of your loved one to be sad. So he kept a facade, and he did a great job doing so...He also took care of you, trying to return all those years you took care of him. Carrying you to your bed, just as you did for him. Attempting to cook your favorite meals, just like you did when he was sad. He gave you a compliment every day, just like you did to boost his confidence before he went to school. He was actually pretty sure that, if sometimes he was a bit cocky, it was because his mommy kept saying he was the best...You gave him one of the best advice once, telling him that to avoid feeling sad, at the end of each day, he should write what he was thankful for in a notebook. Your name appeared on it every time. On your funeral, he left all of his notebooks in your casket, and didn’t start another one for a long time. Writing those things made him think of you, and the memory of your death were just too recent. Now that you were gone, he didn’t had to keep a fake face...and every time he tried to write what he was thankful for, the paper just got soaked with his tears...

Jason Todd. Jay. When Bruce told you the story of that little boy who was trying to steal the wheels off of the batmobile, you were impressed. Kid had to be quite fearless to try and steal the Batman’s wheels...And when he came home with your husband, you knew he was special. He had a difficult life before (and after) becoming Robin, and many thing messed his mind up...Fortunately for him, he always thought, you had a talent to mend broken people. You never gave up on him, and he’d never stop loving you for that. No matter what, you always had time for him, and you were the only one threw his life that ever listened that much what he said. He could tell you anything. He told you everything. When he got hurt, mentally or physically, you were there. When he got into a fight with Bruce, you were there. When he thought he was worthless, you were there. When he died you visited him everyday, you were there. When he came back to life, you were there. When he started to kill, you were still there. Of course, you told him multiple time to stop his murderous vigilante ways, but...He was a stubborn guy. Even when he was a total ass to you though, you never left, you never told him to leave...You were just always there, his rock. He was sure he would have killed himself since a long time if you never had been part of his life. So when you got diagnosed with cancer, he was there for you. He wasn’t as good as Dick to hide how much pain he was in to see you like this...But he was there. He settled his differences with Bruce, they were talking again. He wanted to make you happy...He moved back in the mansion after your death, and made it his life goal to always be the shoulder his brothers, father, and loved butler could cry on, trying to follow your exemple as best he could. Hoping that, wherever you were, you were proud of him. He never touched a gun again. 

Timothy Drake. Timmy. The nine year old boy who knocked on your door and, without introducing himself, told you : “I know you’re Batman’s wife”. In your opinion, he was the smartest man in the whole world, and you often told him. You used to spent hours just the two of you, building robots and other machines, talking about things people could do to improve the world. With you, he never felt like he wasn’t good enough. He was always in Jason and Dick’s shadow...Except when with you. You gave him as much love and support you gave the others, if not a bit more, because you thought he didn’t have enough. You knew which words to say to make him feel better, wether he had a heartbreak, or was badly hurt because of his Red Robin activities. You taught him so much. About so many things. From computers and hacking to how to express his feelings better. From fighting techniques to how to bake the best cookies ever...In his eyes, you were the best person to ever walked this Earth. So much shit happened to you, and yet, you always stayed strong for them. For him. When he learned of your disease, he destroyed everything in his bedroom in a fit of rage and sadness...You came to him and took him in your arms for hours, not letting go until he felt a bit better. Just like his brothers, he tried to take care of you as best he could, to try and give back what you gave him...But there was so much you gave him, he was afraid you’d never know how much he was grateful, how much he loved you. You were always so supportive...You never mocked him for anything. Like when he told you he would love to be a singer...You encouraged him. And at your funerals, he sang a song he wrote for and about you when he was twelve. It was childish, a bit naive, pretty bad really...But it made everyone smile. 

Damian Wayne. Dami’. Though he was calling you “Oumi” (”mum” in arabic) only since a few short years, he loved you more than anything. You taught him how to love, and how it felt to be loved. Truly loved. Even at the beginning, when he acted like he hated you, you kept coming back to him. You kept asking how he was, baking him his favorite cakes and such...You were so annoying, he couldn’t resist you. He even went to the extent of playing stupid board games with you, watching Disney films and just spending time with you in general, enjoying your company above all. He made tons of effort to be a good boy when you were here. When you were around him, he felt his heart was a little bit lighter. You had the same effect on him than you had on his father. You just made them happier by your mere presence. You made them want to be better. Just for you. He just loved you. He’d never admit it though. Well, that wasn’t really true. When the news of your sickness slapped him in the face, there wasn’t a day without him telling or showing you how much he cared about you. Though his first action was to punch the doctor who said you didn’t had much to live in the face...During the time you were ill, the only way for him to fall asleep was if you ran your soothing hands threw his hair. He didn’t want to waste time by sleeping. He didn’t want you to go. Not now. Not so soon. He needed you so much. You knew it, and he knew it was killing you (figure of speech...) to see him like that, and so he tried to follow Dick’s model. To be honest, he often tried to follow Dick’s actions...And he did a pretty good job. He made sure that, before you died, you knew that he was going to be a good man thanks to you. At your funeral, he drew your favorite scene from your favorite Disney film, and laid it in your casket. He often came to see your grave, staying to talk to you. Once a month, he left a drawing of something you liked. 

And finally, Bruce Wayne. Your Bruce. The love of your life. You first met him at the police headquarters, right after his parents died. You were a bit younger than him, about 6 years old. You were there because your father, for reasons you never knew, murdered your mother and siblings before committing suicide, leaving you the sole survivor also for reasons you never knew. And that’s what drew you two together, both orphans, both witnessing their family’s death. Except that you never had an “Alfred”, and you grew up in the tough neighborhood that was “the Narrows”. You visited the Wayne mansion often though, and Bruce “secretly” helped you financially all threw your life. “Secretly”...you weren’t stupid, the sudden scholarship you had for prestigious universities and such, well, you knew they came from him. When you turned twenty, you became his. Twenty two, first kid. Thirty, got married...You two almost always been friends, and around each others. You had a similar tragic backstory, and yet, you were so much different than Bruce. For starter, you were often smiling. You always had the words to get him in a good mood. When he was being a total prick to you, you told him off, but you never left him. Not once. You were always at his side. You taught him how to feel again. You gave him a reason to live other than to protect Gotham. You always laughed saying that you were “the light in his darkness”, joking about how cheesy it was...but it was true. You were the light in his darkness, always bringing him back from the edge of that damn well in the worst of times. You were the love of his life...His world started to shatter the day he sat with you in that doctor’s office, and he understood your days were numbered. He did everything in his power to make the remnant of your life the best ever. He always took good care of you, even if sometimes he wasn’t there because of his work and nightly activities, he always came back to you at the end of the day...But during this year, he almost never left you. Your boys and him took a turn each night to watch over Gotham, and you saw him more than you ever did. He was always touching you in some way, trying to smile as much as he could...Doing his best, really, to make everything perfect. Until one day, his World shattered completely. You were his world. With you gone...He was at your side when you took your last breath, and tried to revive you for almost 6 hours non-stop. He couldn’t let you go, he couldn’t watch someone else he loved more than his own life die again. You couldn’t die like that. You were getting better...He buried you, digging the hole himself, next to his parents. Visiting you every day. He delved into his work, and into Batman more than ever, trying to forget his pain. But he couldn’t, he simply couldn’t, and more often than not, he found himself wanting to scream at the top of his lungs how it should have been him, not you. What did you ever do but bring happiness to the people around you ? You weren’t suppose to ever leave him, not so soon...Without you, things were bleak again. Dark. Sad. Violent. Every memories of you stinging his heart, every picture around the house making him want to go back in time and hold you in his arms again. He still had the reflex to reach for you on your side of the bed each morning...He forbid Alfred to wash the sheets, as long as your smell lingered around, he wouldn’t change them. The only things keeping him grounded anymore were your sons. In all of their actions, he saw a part of you, and he held onto that as hard as he could. He couldn’t let you go yet. Hell, he was lying to himself if he thought he could ever let you go...You were the love of his life. You would remain a burning hole in his heart, forever. 

You left six broken men behind you, and unfortunately, for the first time since you entered their life, you couldn’t help any of them getting better. You were gone. They’d never get better. 

***************

About three months after your death, Damian came down to the bat cave, a letter in his hand, and tears in his eyes. 

It was a letter from you, he found it while sorting some of your stuffs. And, unable to read it out loud, his throat too tight from sadness, he gave it to his father. Bruce took the piece of paper with shaky hands, and, in front of his sons and adopted father, he started reading it : 

“Hey guys, 

I just wanted to write a quick note, just in case I don’t find time to tell you before...Well. You know before what.  

I love all of you. So much. So much it hurts. And I wish I didn’t had to go...But I know that I do. Life is funny like that sometimes.

Alfred, thank you so much for taking care of me, for being the father I never had. When I’m gone, please, keep taking care of my babies...And of Bruce. Don’t let him burry himself in work. Don’t let him go back to his old ways, brooding and sulking all the time. And force him to eat solid food. 

Dickie, Jay, Timmy and Dami...I am so SO proud of you all. You’re the funniest, smartest, most amazing, loving, caring...and annoying people I know. I could add more words to describe how perfect you all are, but I fear I’ll run out of time...There’s so much thing to tell about all of you. When I’m gone, don’t give up. Stay strong. I know it’s easy for me to say that, because I won’t be the one suffering...And I know the feeling of loosing someone dear. But you have to keep going. Together. There’s no word in the English langage that can describe how much I love you. 

Bruce, my love, you can’t and don’t even imagine how happy you made me. I know you thought you didn’t deserve me, or that you weren’t doing enough...but believe me when I say you’ve never been nothing short of perfect. Your love made me strong, not the opposite. I will always love you, no matter what, and again, I lack words to tell you how much...But know this my love, and please believe me, since that first kiss we shared so many years ago, there hasn’t been a day in my life I regretted my decision. There hasn't been a day in my life I didn’t thank God or whoever is up there for putting you in my life. You’re truly the best man I know. Your parents would be more than proud. And when I’m gone, please, remember the good times we had, drown yourself in them, and don’t jump into that fucking dark well again. 

All of you, you’re a family, never forget it. Take care of each others, don’t leave anyone behind, or I’ll come back to haunt your asses...

I’ll see you again, promise

Love (understatement of the year), 

Your “Batmom” 

PS : my secret ingredient for my chocolat chip cookies is *unreadable scribbles*

PPS : I know it was you who paid for my years at university, Bruce. “

As Bruce raised his head to look at his beloved ones, tears unable to stay away, he softly smiled. You were the best, and you will always be. 

You left behind you six broken men who could never feel whole again without you, six broken men who were part of a puzzle where the best piece was missing...But they knew that if they stuck together, one day, not now, probably not before a very long time, they could stand tall and strong again. If they relied on each other, they could make it. Besides, you did promise you’d see them again some day...

The End  

[deeperthanloveff]

Chapter 39

Chris

It was a little after nine at night and I find myself here. I ran up the steps to the front door and rang the bell. Didn’t take long for her to open the door. I stood there looking at her as I leaned against the stone wall waiting for her to let me in. She was clad in what looked like my over sized t-shirt and her hair in a bun. She stepped aside creating space for me to enter. I kicked off my shoes and she locked the door and she didn’t even look my way as she walked into the living room.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her body back “what are you doing here huh?” She asked defeat in her voice.

“Got in the car and drove here” I said softly while shrugging.

She sucked her teeth and tried to walk off but I pulled her closer. Robin and I had no space between each other as leaned down to her ear level “talk to me.”

She closed her eyes and pulled my arms around her. She seemed like that was all she needed maybe even wanted “Chris you sure about this?”

I let go of her and she turned to look at me, she was so hurt. Like in all the years I’ve known her I never saw pain on her face like right now “sure about what?”

She stepped forward and placed her hand on my chest “what do you feel when I touch you? What do you feel when I look at you?”

“What?” I said confused.

“Stop reading to much into it, you keep fighting me. Go back to our real first kiss. Did you know then you wanted forever?” She asked.

“I, wait where are you going with this? You wanna reminisce and shit. You always do this when you trying to get me to see the light” I said seeing a sparkle in her eyes.

“Chris, just think about it. When did you know that I was it?” She asked again this time really making me think.

“Dubai, I didn’t tell you I was in love with you but I was” I said truthfully.

*Flashback*

I drove us back to our hotel. It was our last night here and I wanted it to be special. Robin was special to me and I wanted her to see that.

I pulled up making sure Robin got out of the car okay. I gave the keys to the valet and we headed inside. We got to our elevator and I inserted the key for the penthouse. I backed her against the gold elevator wall and kissed her neck.

“You don’t even know all the things I want to do to you right now” I said in her ear.

I could feel her pulse picking up and her body heat radiating. She wanted me just as much as I her. First I had something to say. The elevator dinged and we walked into the suite.

Red rode petals were everywhere as well as candles. The lights were dimmed and, champagne and strawberries were right on top the bar like I requested. I pulled her hand and sat her down on the over-sized couch in the living room. Then I poured us two glasses of champagne with strawberries in them. I gave her a glass and sat down beside her. I observed her beauty and decided now was the time to speak on some things.

“In the short time I’ve known you it’s almost like you’ve become a part of me. There isn’t a second your not around I don’t wonder what your doing or wish you were there. You’ve grown on me and I genuinely care about you. I guess what I’m saying is let’s build something. We have to start someplace and I need you on the same page.”

I watched her eyes water and I wiped them before a single tear could drop. I admired Robin because for the first time she was letting somebody, me care for her. I really did want to build with her. I was hoping she was willing. “I’m going to let you in and I’m going to build with you but please don’t make me regret this” she said reassuringly.

I kissed her forehead “I would never intentionally hurt you okay.” She nodded and I kissed her lips to seal the deal. It felt good to finally feel like this might go somewhere besides the end.

I kissed her for the first time with meaning. We engulfed in the most temperature rising kiss we’ve ever been in. It felt like heat was radiating through my body as I deepened the kiss. She opened her mouth welcoming our tongues to get to know each other.

*Flashback Over*

“When I was finally ready to tell you, you left without as much as a warning. I mean I get it now. You thought you were protecting your man, but I didn’t need to be protected. You did” I said taking a seat on the carpet in the living room. She sat in front of me and grabbed my hand “don’t think just answer. Do you still love me?”

“No thoughts needed, I do.” I said truthfully.

“You love her more?” She asked me.

I smiled because she never asked me that out loud but I knew she was silently wondering what was going on in my head. She always dropped hints that she wanted constant words of affirmation but I thought showing her was better than telling. I guess baby girl needed both.

“If I tell you I do or don’t what does that do for you?” I asked honestly. She shrugged “I need to know if I’m crazy for loving you still. I need to know if I should damn well let another man make me happy or not. I quite frankly don’t respect her and you know why hence why I have no problem taking what’s mine from time to time” she said as she led her hand up my thigh.

I grabbed her hand “stop. She is having my baby. I can’t desert her because I love you.”

“By all means take care of yours but you can do that and come home to me every night. You find it so easy to give her what I deserve I don’t get it. You ran out of here so quick when she called you crying. Especially when you promised to work it out naked in my bed. Look, just think about this shit before you do it. I crave you like I always did. Shit we the new and improved Ty and Ashley” she said making me laugh.

“Nah we way more dysfunctional than them, but Robin I’m not living for you. You think because you’re ready to let me love you, I’m gonna just be with it. Is that fair? You put everything on me” I said frustration taking over.

“Chris I’m sorry alright, but you make decisions for me cause you think you’re doing the right thing when I don’t need that. You buried yourself deep inside me and promised we’d fix it. Now all of a sudden fixing it turns into you being engaged to someone who ain’t me. WHAT THE FUCK!” She screamed at me.

“First off lower your voice before you wake my kids. Second, Robin not that it makes a difference or anything but it’s fact that you begged me to make love to you. Now I obliged cause shit I wanted it probably more than you. Walking around here looking like that, but us doing that didn’t mean I was just going to pick up at sun rise and move my entire garage full of clothes in here.”

She grabbed my shirt roughly and brought her face close to mine “do you love her more than me damn you?” She asked again.

I looked away from her “I-I shit I don’t know anymore alright.” Lying through my teeth. I knew I’ve known for a long time.

Amusement covered her face “you’re lying. But you know what Chris fuck it. I’m just gonna let you get on with your shit. You so in love with this girl but you here. So marry her. Go kiss your kids goodnight and get out.”

“So because I won’t tell you I love you more I gotta go?”

“Well I mean you got a fiancé ain’t like you can spend the fucking night” she snipped at me.

I sighed and shook my head “I give up yo. Let’s face it at the end of the day this is a competition for you. You just wanna win. You don’t want me. You want to be able to tell Kae that at the end of the day I’m yours” 

I laid back on the shaggy carpet and looked up at the ceiling. I could feel Robin straddling my waist but this wasn’t about to be that. I wasn’t not about to fuck her senseless then tell her what she wanted to hear. 

“Chris I do win, you wanna know why? You love me, I gave you your family, I wobble on this dick better than any bitch you had, and you over there playing saint cause she’s pregnant but you know where you wanna be. When I called you that night I opened a door for you and you walked right into it because I gave you what you’ve been wanting for damn near 7 years. I gave up my heart on a silver platter for you. So when you leave here tonight think and think real fucking hard. Are you gonna stop playing the fiddle and juggling two or are you going to man up and live by the words you always told me. It’s always going to be me” she said looking me in the eyes.

She stroked my cheek and then intertwined our hands. I tapped her side silently telling her to get up and she did. I said nothing as I got up and headed upstairs to kiss my kids goodnight. I don’t even know why I came here I got in the car with the intentions to go to the studio.

I wasn’t about to let Robin come in and change up anything because I made my decision. My phone vibrated and I answered knowing it was Kae “wassup wifey?”

“Come back to me, I need you” she said making me smile.

“Oh yeah? What you need?” I asked her playing along.

“I need you to hold me and give me some loving” I chuckled at how cute she sounded when she was begging.

“Alright I’m literally in Christian’s room tucking him in, I’m gonna kiss Kyia and I’ll come back to my baby. That ok?” I asked knowing she was smiling real big.

“Yeah, hurry lil daddeh” she said before hanging up.

I shook my head and placed my phone in my pocket again. Kae ass was up to something I could feel it. Christian was falling asleep but as soon as he saw me he got hype “aye big boy. Ready for bed now?”

He nodded “yes, but I thought I was going home with you today.”

“No, mommy wants you and Ky to stay so I said ok. You’ll just stay longer when I get you after school Friday aight?”

He nodded “ok, Kyia was crying for you earlier.”

“Ok I’m going to go see her now, get some sleep lil one” I said turning off his light and heading out.

I left his door cracked just in case he had an accident. He’s six and at the wet the bed stage. So every so often he’ll wake us up crying like if he was in trouble. I just left the door cracked so Robin could hear his cries if something went wrong.

I crept into Kyia’s room and she was of course sleeping but I could tell she was restless from the way she was turning.

“Wake me up before you go, ooh I need a little more Just a little more, a little more of your love Wake me up before you go, ooh I need a little more Just a little more, a little more of your love ‘Cause your love, your love, your love Wake me up with some more of your love” I sang softly enough to sooth her sleep.

Once she stopped tossing I kissed her forehead and thought about how she was the splitting image of her mother. She was so pretty, I knew I was going have to keep her chained in the house when she got older. I tucked her in and crept out her room sure not to wake her. When I got back downstairs I could hear Robin sobbing softly on the couch.

It tugged and my heart strings so bad I couldn’t just leave. I lifted her up and held her in my arms just letting her cry in my chest as we sat there. I said nothing because nothing needed to be said. I wiped her tears and she tried to push my hands away, but I refused not to comfort her. “Robin I love you ok. I love you I do, but I’m scared of you. I’m scared of you leaving me so I’m not leaving her. And I also don’t feel like we work anymore. That’s the truth” I softly lifting her head so she could look me in the eyes.

She nodded at me signaling she knew that already, as she held me until I got up to leave “Christopher if you go through with this I’m moving on for good and I mean it. And you know we work you know we work so damn good.!Scared or not you need to remember I’m not waiting around for you forever it’s getting real old real fast.”

“Look it’s not as easy as 123 anymore. It’s so much wrapped up in this shit. You know what you asking me to do?” I asked.

“Yeah I’m asking you to live by your words. Fucking honor me!” She yelled.

“You love me, prove it. Nothing has ever stopped you before so it shouldn’t now” she said softly rubbing my hand.

I flipped my hat backwards and kissed the very corner of her mouth before getting up and leaving. The fact that Robin had been waiting on me all this time never became so clear until now. She always made it seem like it didn’t matter because she had another nigga in the winds waiting. So for the first time I was truly wondering, was I making a mistake?

India 

I combed my hair in the mirror and smiled as I rubbed my belly. The baby would be here in 25 days and today was my baby shower. My feet were swollen beyond measure and my fingers looked like sausages but it didn’t matter I was happy. Along with the baby shower we were also having the sex reveal. Trey and I were betting on what it’d be. I want a boy and of course he wanted a girl. I was just excited to share this with my family and friends. I even took the initiative to invite Robin and Ashley.

I was so tired of the bullshit so if this meant peace then so be it. We didn’t have to be best friends but I know it’s annoyed the guys worrying about keeping us all apart.

“Innnnnnn?” I heard Kae call out from my bedroom.

“Bathroom babes!” I said as I applied some bronzer.

“Ready to see my handy work?” She asked as she came in smiling.

“I know you got me everything I wanted, but tell me how you liking being engaged?” I asked gushing at the massive rock Chris put on her finger.

She blushed and looked away “I still can’t believe it, but I wish I didn’t get him like this.”

“I always feel like the cause for many problems in his life. I tend to think maybe he’d be better off you know? I’m sure and I’ve always been that this is what I wanted for me, for us. Marriage, kids, Mrs. Brown. I just wonder if Chris is doing this cause it’s the right thing and not what he wants to do thing” she said using air quotes.

I sighed “baby you aren’t a bad person. I know you think you’re this home wrecker because you had Kyia and he was still married, but that was never your intentions. Listen to me, don’t go into this marriage feeling like that and don’t go into it without talking to him. Chris is a lot of things but I know he’d walk away from this if it’s making you feel trapped.”

“I love him so much you know. Shit I’m having another child with him, but Chris still loves her and I can’t marry him without knowing that she doesn’t have a say in anything that refers to him anymore. I will walk with my dignity in tact before I sit around playing sista wife with her ass believe me” I said making her laugh.

“You’re a savage, but I agree. You know they’re going to be here today?” I asked making sure to remind her.

“Yeah I know, I can handle it don’t worry” she said running my little belly as I stood up.

I was carrying weirdly very small, but I think it’s because I worked out so much before and during my pregnancy I didn’t gain much weight. 

“Baby come on! Everyone is outside you always late” Trey complained walking into the bathroom.

“Trey shut up, I’m pregnant and swollen I’m allowed to be late” I said rolling my eyes.

“You been talking real crazy lately, but it’s cool that baby ain’t gonna be inside you for long then imma set your ass straight. You done forgot” he said walking up on me.

Trey had this sexy no shave scruff thing going on and I couldn’t take it. He keep it up we’ll be having another baby in no time after this one is born.

“Whatever let’s go get on my damn nerves” I said making him smile.

“Mmmm keep talking” he said slapping my ass as I walked past him.

I kissed my teeth as Kae laughed making jokes with him “you know Rue you ain’t half bad. My son really got him a good thing.”

She giggled “tell him that.”

“I have, hopefully he listening. But come on. Everyone is waiting for y'all pregnant asses!”

We laughed “listen I’m only four months along you can’t even tell I’m with child don’t start!”

They were arguing back and forth and I was focusing on not falling down the stairs. Trey was then most accepting of Kae. He never wanted her to feel like the outcast especially how we were best friends. As we walked down the stairs Chris of course was standing there waiting on Kae.

“Hey, what you took y'all so long?” He asked.

She rolled her eyes and willingly went into his embrace “India is 8 months pregnant can she get a courtesy?”

He shrugged “I guess so, but how’s my little one doing in there?”

I couldn’t help but watch they were freaking cute “fine, but we want some chicken.”

He laughed “aight, but you gotta kiss me and tell me you love me first.”

She giggled and hid her face in his neck “I love you baby” she said before kissing his nose, his cheeks, and finally his lips.

He told her loved her more and proceeded to kiss her all while Robin and Ashley walked in on the cute scene. I noticed he held her closer to him and whispered something in her ear making her bust out laughing before walking off. Robin watched and just because we weren’t friends didn’t mean I couldn’t see the pain in her face from wanting that to be her. She took it with a grain of salt though and greeted me.

“Hi, thanks for inviting me. I know we haven’t been at our best in four years but I come bearing gifts” she said smiling as she handed a stroller full of wrapped gifts to Trey.

He kissed her cheek “thanks for coming, you too Ashley” I said hugging them both before they did the same to Trey.

“Where’s the kids?” I asked.

“Mama J insisted she needed quality time with her grand-babies so she stole our kids. Her, Passion, and April they’re on the way though” Ashley said shaking her head.

I’m not against it though, I got to be with Ty alone. If I wasn’t already six months I would’ve said I might be pregnant after our weekend" she said as we laughed.

I consciously looked back for Kae, but she excused herself from being there and I felt bad instantly. “My feet are killing me, lets go outside so I can sit and stop everyone from waiting.”

Something was off and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I felt like today something was going to change. I just hoped whatever it was, was positive.

Robin

After walking in and seeing the way Chris held Kae and kissed her my heart dropped. I know he saw me that’s why he said whatever he said to her in her ear. She silently excused herself which I liked. 

She was all around not a selfish girl so the fact that she kept distance I appreciated. After talking with India some more I headed to the bathroom. I of course bumped into Chris and he broke my fall.

“Hey” I said above a whisper.

He smiled at me “Hi Melody.”

My heart dropped and I started to touch him but fought to keep my hands to myself. Then I wanted to kiss him and my mouth got so dry. All this because of the way he said my middle name. 

He teased me “what you want me to do to you first? I can see your thoughts all over your face.”

I turned red and he laughed “fuck, go away.”

“Ok, but no hug? Or we can’t do that yet?”

I rolled my eyes and hugged him his scent invading my nostrils making my hormones go haywire “you feel so good” I said out loud by mistake.

He chuckled “you look beautiful” he said to me before walking off.

I finally made it to the bathroom and shut the door locking it. I sank to the ground and put my face in my hands. I was tingly all over. Every time I look at Chris it’s like the first time all over again. I feel like a high school girl pining over her crush. He knew me so well so he just used that to his advantage. Just checking to see if I hated him yet. I still had a flicker of hope deep down, but I was going to live my life. It was what is was.

I gathered myself and used the bathroom then headed outside. I was relieved to see Odell there. I didn’t know he was invited but I knew he would keep my mind off of Chris and that’s exactly what I needed. We could’ve just came together had he told me that he was coming when we were together two days ago. I assume he figured I wouldn’t be here though.

“Oh, you’re here?” He asked walking up to me.

I nodded “yeah I was invited and I’m trying to change so I came.”

He smiled and pulled me closer from my belt buckle “where you going with these small ass shorts?”

I smiled at him “I’m grown lil man.”

“Lil man huh? I wasn’t lil man when I had your legs in the air at my place the other night huh? It was more like “oh papi tan jodidamente grande” wasn’t it?“ He said making me smile.

"Odell shut up ok!” He laughed.

“I just need to remind you that ain’t nothing lil over here, but wassup. Can I still use my key tonight?” He asked closing space between us.

“Oh you kept that? I guess you can try to see if it still works, but if it doesn’t then I don’t know” I said making him smirk.

He bent down to my ear level “just be naked and wet for me. I’ll get inside.” “Robin come sit up at the main table, you too Ashley” India said interrupting our heated moment.

I turned to walk off but he gently grabbed my arm “not before I get my kiss.” Odell and I weren’t back together we went out to eat and just agreed to enjoy each other. I didn’t need I a relationship and he understood the need for me to be alone. His company was comforting and I was accepting of him just wanting to be there. 

I of course kissed him but on the cheek and tried to run but he wouldn’t let up “nah, you ain’t slick. What you scared homeboy gonna get mad?”

I rolled my eyes “I can careless if he got upset or not he’s engaged. You gotta earn these lips.”

He looked real amused and he waited for me to let my guard down and proceeded to steal a kiss. I dug my nails in neck and he bit my lip in response. 

“You don’t want none don’t start!”

“Whatever!” I said walking off to sit by Ashley.

As I sat I was greeted with stares “what?!!!”

“So Odell? Is that like a get back together or?” India asked.

“No, we’re just being each other’s company and I’m liking it” I said earning ohhhsss.

“Look enough about me, were here for India.”

“Where are the guys?” Ash asked.

“Inside chilling in the man cave, Trey insists baby showers are for women. He’s also agitated because he knows he won’t be getting any for 6 weeks after the baby comes. I think he’s losing his mind” India said making us all laugh.

My phone vibrated in my hand and I saw it was a text. I opened it and smiled “hey guys I gotta make a quick call to the store. I’ll be right back.”

Ashley was side eyeing me but I ignored it. I took my time heading inside so it wouldn’t look like I was rushing for anything. Once I opened the door to close it I was grabbed. I smiled when I looked down to see it was Odell’s arm.

“I want a sample of what you gonna give me tonight” he said unbuttoning his jeans. 

I giggled “oh is that so?”

“yeah deff” he said turning me around and holding my arms above my head against the door.

Just as he undid my belt the door knocked “Robin?” I heard a soft voice say.

Odell let me go and situated himself as I needed confirmation “Karrueche?”

“Yeah, can we talk?” She asked from the other side of the door.

I looked at O and he shrugged “um yeah give me a second.”

Shit what could she possibly want?

[welllpthisishappening]

All the Subliminal Things (2/3)

Emma Swan does not believe in soulmates.

Or so she says. Because if her soulmate did, actually, exist, he should have shown up by now. So, she must be a fluke, a broken cog in a system that really doesn’t make much sense anyway. It is, she figures, why she agrees to meet David’s friend before Regina and Robin’s wedding. This guy doesn’t believe in soulmates either.

She’s intrigued.

Until she hears him talk. And everything flips after that.

------

Rating: Teen Word Count: Still around 5K’ish AN: This is really just five-thousand words of flirting and emotional backstories. And then more flirting. Kevin Jonas got married at the same castle Regina and Robin are going to have their wedding. So, I’m really sticking with the theme here. As always, I am floored and a little stunned by any response to anything I write, but this has just been delightful and you are all very nice. Thank for clicking and reading and sending very nice comments. I hope you guys enjoy this part too. And make sure to tell @resident-of-storybrooke​ how fantastic her cover art is. It’s fantastic. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam. 

------

“Ok, favorite movie?” “No one is going to ask you that.” Killian shrugs. They’re in a different coffee shop, some unspoken agreement that they’ll only meet in public places, and his legs are stretched out impossibly far, arms crossed lightly over his chest with a shirt on that is making it very difficult for Emma to concentrate.

Honestly, it may be that stupid piece of hair behind his ear.

“You don’t know that,” he argues. “And, strictly speaking, my interest in being fake soulmates with you has no bearing on my interest in knowing what your favorite movie is.” Emma’s pretty proud of her distinct lack of reaction. She doesn’t gasp. She doesn’t groan. She makes no noise whatsoever at fake soulmates despite the certainty that the words actually cut their way through her.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” He shrugs again. It makes his shirt shift slightly, a patch of skin just above another pair of ridiculously tight pants and maybe he’s actively trying to drive her insane. Maybe the world just hates her. That seems more likely.

“It’s certainly how it was intended,” Killian says, taking a drink of another fancy coffee order. He got a latte this time. “And you’re avoiding the question, love.”

Emma reacts at that. That’s disappointing.

She can feel her eyes bug, tongue darting between her lips because, at some point, she’d started breathing through her mouth and the flush that creeps up Killian’s cheeks is as nice as it is unexpected.

“Swan,” he mutters, like he’s correcting himself or reminding himself. Of something. Emma has no idea of what. “The movie. Favorites only.” “Ok, but that makes it seem like I have more than one favorite movie. That doesn’t make any sense. By definition.” “Do you think you were an English teacher in another life?”

“Was that a Bye Bye Birdie reference?” “Absolutely not. And Dick Van Dyke was supposed to be the English teacher. Are you Dick Van Dyke in this scenario?” “He did have an overbearing mother.” “Are you suggesting Mary Margaret is is your overbearing mother?” Killian asks, a smile tugging at the end of his lips. Emma needs to stop staring at his lips.

“Nah, it’s definitely David. The whole thing is gender swapped you see.” “Ah, of course, of course. Ok, so no more Bye Bye Birdie references.” “Why were you aware that was something I could have been making?” “Swan, this is still not answering the question.” She widens her eyes on purpose that time and they’ve been doing this for nearly two weeks now – coffee...meetings that very clearly aren’t dates because they very clearly aren’t soulmates, but it’s nice and good and comfortable and a few more adjectives that are several thousand times more emotional than that.

Emma’s fairly sure she’s at, like, twenty-six on the scale of how absolutely not fine this is.

“Killian,” she prompts when he doesn’t answer immediately, and his head snaps up like it’s on a timer. She can see the muscles in his throat move when he swallows. “Are you secretly a Broadway aficionado from the 60s?” “Only because it was forced upon me.” “Sounds violent.” “Nah, the opposite. A comforting force.” “You’re beating around something,” Emma accuses, and it’s only been a few weeks. Not even a full two. Technically, speaking. That’s barely any time. Her mind doesn’t care. It’s picked up on cues and ticks and little things, every tiny twitch and multiple moments and she’s got some secret stash of thoughts and feelings and how much she wants to know everything single thing about it him.

It terrifies her.

Because she’s absolutely setting herself up for disappointment.

“Only because it’s incredibly depressing,” Killian says. “And you’ve done a very good job of avoiding my question. But, uh…”

Another shrug, a little self deprecating and as depressing as advertised and Emma reaches forward on instinct and, maybe, magic she can’t control, resting her hand on the prosthetic at the end of his arm. They’re going to get kicked out of this coffee shop when their eyes both fall out of their respective heads.

It will probably make the news.

“My mom,” Killian whispers, eyes glancing down towards Emma’s hand and she doesn’t pull away. “Was very big on all that. Had ancient cast albums and a record player that only kind of worked and she used to play them when she cleaned the apartment.” Emma knows that tone. She’s felt it and experienced it, lived it more times than one person ever should, and it’s not something she’d ever wish on anyone.

Especially Killian.

“When?” she whispered.

He smiles. That feels like something important. An understanding. “I was ten. Very quick, very sudden, an even quicker ship off to the system.” “What?” Emma doesn’t quite bark out the word, but it’s very close and their eyes will not be able to cope with much more of this. “What do you mean, what?” Killian asks, clicking his tongue in frustration when he realizes he’s out of coffee. “That’s---I mean, my dad was an absolute dick and never around and Liam wasn’t--” “How long were you in the system?” She’s honestly impressed by how quickly he understands. It’s barely more than three seconds, a flash of his eyes that makes Emma wonder a whole slew of things she shouldn’t even be considering. They’re friends. She thinks.

She hopes.

She’s not great at that either.

Cowardly and a great, big giant liar, kind of petulant, just sort of a jerk and, now, a pessimist.

“Until I was eighteen,” Killian answers. “Liam wanted to get me out before then, but that’s expensive and there have to be lawyers and have you ever heard of soulmates that aren’t romantic?” Emma nods. “Elsa and her sister.”

"Well, Liam tried to do that, but it didn't work and who is Elsa, exactly?" “She’s a public defender. We’re friends.” “You’re a cop and friends with a public defender? Isn’t that against the rules?” “Nah,” Emma objects, but that’s kind of true too and it’s not fair how easily he can read her. “David was a little scandalized at first, but he gets along with Elsa’s sister anyway and Ruby said it was ok, so…” “And Ruby is?” “Is this an interrogation? I thought that was supposed to be my schtick.”

Killian grins. It’s distracting. She’s going to bring scissors to the next coffee shop they go to. “Genuine curiosity, love.” He does it on purpose. She’s positive. That’s...something.

“Ruby is the reason I’m here,” Emma says. “She grew up in this tiny little town in Maine. Grandmother owns a diner there. And I ended up there--maybe ten years ago? They let me stay there for awhile, then Ruby left for the great, big city and somehow met Mary Margaret.” “David’s Mary Margaret?” “You know a lot of other ones?” Killian shakes his head, eyes darting every few seconds to the hand Emma’s never moved. “Anyway, Ruby heard about an opening at the police department, the need for a few of us interested in preserving justice and told me I didn’t have any choice. There was no reason not to.” “No?” “No,” Emma echoes, a finality to her voice that grates on the inside of her throat. But they’re treading close to suddenly emotional territory and admissions she doesn’t want to get into in a coffee shop, apparently, a few blocks away from Killian’s apartment. “No reason to stay in Boston when there’s so much opportunity here. That’s, like, the New York slogan, right?”

He nods so slowly it’s barely a movement, lips parted slightly like he’s trying to come up with the right word and--”When did you get out, then?” Emma isn’t going to answer. She’s not. It’s too much and not enough and trying to be friends with your soulmate is much harder than she anticipated.

“Seventeen,” she says softly. “I ran away.” “To Maine?”

“Yup.” “And Boston right after Maine?”

“You’re very curious,” she says, and it comes out like an accusation. Killian purses his lips.

“Yes, I am. Piqued, even.” “I didn’t get to Boston for a couple of years. And I wasn’t really there very long. It’s expensive there, you know?” “I do,” Killian says, and maybe she’ll be better prepared for the never-ending string of surprises eventually. “Best cannoli?” “Mike’s, don’t even joke about that.” Killian chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Anything else is blasphemy. I’m sorry you ran, Swan. It shouldn’t have been like that.” “Ah, a lot of things shouldn’t be the way they were.” “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” He takes a deep breath, licking his lips and there are definitely strangers staring at them. They’re far too close to each other. “Rear Window.”

“Is that code?” “That’s my favorite movie.” “Oh my god, why?” “It’s good.” Emma blinks, scoffing slightly and laughing a bit and her smile has become something like second nature in the last few weeks. Not even two weeks. “Raiders of the Lost Ark. ” “Are you kidding me? Last Crusade is so much better.” “I didn’t critique your choice,” Emma argues, more curious stares cast her way. One of them comes from Killian. She’s poking her finger into his chest now. He is impossibly solid. “I mean, kind of, at least.” “At least,” he echoes. “Why that one, then?” “I like the rolling ball thing. I always wanted to see that show at Disney World.” It’s not the most emotional thing they’ve said all day, but it somehow feels like even more and then some and Emma is not even remotely prepared for the force of Killian’s answering smile. “Disney World, huh?”

“People go there.” “They do,” he agrees, and she’s not sure why it sounds like some kind of promise.

“You have a favorite Disney movie?” “Nope.” Emma shakes her head. “Nah, c’mon, everyone does. You just don’t want to admit it.” “That is not true at all,” Killian counters. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a Disney movie.” “Oh my God.” “When have I had time, love?” She supposes that’s fair. Everything else is absolutely not, but Emma’s only barely keeping her grip on her sanity at this point, so she doesn’t want to rock the metaphorical boat as it were. It’s started to feel...feelings.

Real feelings. Not just because she’s memorized every shift in his voice in the last two weeks. It’s been two full weeks now, of coffee on their lunch breaks and smiles when he texts her to make sure she gets home alright and the flutter of butterflies in the pit of her stomach whenever Emma sends him the same gif every morning. It’s LMFAO. From the Shots video.

She’s honestly such a catch.

“That’s fair, I guess,” she admits. “Just like...never in your life?” “Nope.” “You’re trying to be annoying.” “Nope,” he says again, but that one comes with a smirk and a quick twist of his eyebrows and the butterflies threaten to fly out of Emma’s mouth and take over the world. She likes him. Even without the soulmate thing.

It’s problematic.

And not. 

Mostly because of the soulmate thing. 

But he's kind of funny, in a stupidly thinks he's charming sort of way, and she's noticed that he scratches the back of his ear when he's nervous, and seems to have an assortment of button-up shirts with increasingly ridiculous patterns. There haven't been fireworks. It's more a...soft simmer, like falling back into something calm and easy and Emma supposes that's why it has to be wrong. 

God, she's so bitter she's surprised her tongue doesn't rot. 

“I’m being honest with you. That’s a good thing, right?” The butterflies turn to ash.

“Sure,” Emma mumbles. “What if...what if we watched a Disney movie?” “When?” “I’m actually off this weekend.”

His whole body changes, eyes brightening and spine possibly stretching and Emma’s gasp is ridiculous as soon as his lips press against her cheek. They both freeze, looking anywhere except each other. “All weekend?” Killian whispers, and Emma hopes whatever nod she makes in response is actually audible. “You or me?” “You speak in these codes and I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Do you want to come to my apartment or should I come to yours?” Oh. Oh. Oh.

“Yours,” Emma says before she can regret it, but letting him into her apartment seems like a line she can’t come back from and this is fake. They’re just friends. She’s the only one with a soulmate. “That’s---I’ve got no food anyway.” “Neither do I,” Killian laughs. “But I can get something. Or we can order things. Multiple things, even. Good stuff.” His voice picks up, excitement obvious in every letter and the weight of his smile. Emma’s pulse doesn’t know what to do with that. “I’m going to expect good stuff, then.” “That’s fair.” She shows up on Saturday afternoon with a bottle of whiskey and he must have ordered from every place in a ten-mile radius. The counter is covered with food and more alcohol than one person could ever possibly be expected to drink, his gaze more than slightly cautious when Emma freezes in the doorway.

“Too much?” “No,” she says, pleasantly surprised to find she means it. “You want to start at Snow White and work our way through?” “Deal.”

Emma falls asleep somewhere in the forgotten period of 1970s Disney animation, a skip-ahead in the timeline because she’s always hated One Hundred and One Dalmatians and The Sword in the Stone used to freak her out after that one time she saw it when she was six. She wakes up to hear Killian mumbling under his breath about how historically inaccurate Robin Hood is. He only stops when Emma points out that the protagonist in question is also a fox.

They only get off the couch to get more to drink and more egg rolls because Killian must have ordered a dozen egg rolls and Emma has no idea how he knew she’d want a dozen egg rolls. Good guess, or something.

And it’s way too late by the time she’s realizes it’s late, curled against Killian’s side with his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on her back in a familiar sort of way that should be absolutely impossible. Emma doesn’t want to move. She has to move.

This is the worst.

Cowardly and a great, big giant liar, kind of petulant, just sort of a jerk and so goddamn depressed she’s positive she reeks with it.

“You don't have to go,” Killian mutters, fingers stilling.

“I should.” “Whatever you want, love. But--” She can feel him take a deep breath, chest shifting under her cheek. “You’re comfortable.” Words should not be...this. They should just be words and be finished and there should be far less angst in fake dating your soulmate. Only this whole thing has kind of felt a hell of a lot like a date and Emma’s starting to wonder if she’s just drowning.

At all times.

In the middle of Queens.

“Ok.” Killian’s fingers start moving again. “Ok.”

“So,” Mary Margaret says pointedly, a few weeks out of the wedding and Emma’s finally buying a dress. It’s because she’s been dreading this conversation. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Killian recently.”

Emma doesn’t groan. It’s the most mature thing she’s done since she first started hanging out with Killian. She still hates that string of words.

“Yup.” “And?” “And what?” Mary Margaret makes a noise in the back of her throat. “Nothing. I'm just observing.” “Are you just?” Emma laughs, glancing in the mirror and this dress looks pretty good. Everything's felt pretty good in the last three weeks. Like the world has settled on a new axis that’s more efficient with a better rotation angle.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Mary Margaret promises. “Just..a thought. About how happy you are. You should get that dress.” “Yeah?” Emma doesn’t mean her question to be two-fold. That’s how it comes out anyway. Mary Margaret totally knows that. She can’t keep a secret, but she might be omniscient. “Yes,” she says with a smile. “It’s just...it’s good that he has someone to talk to who isn’t David or Locksley or the bar.” “The bar is talking to him?” “Emma.” “I’m serious. Where are you going with this?” Mary Margaret sighs softly, like she’s at war with herself over what to say next. “I’m just saying it’s good. After everything that happened in Boston and--” “--When was he in Boston?” “That’s where he was before he got here,” Mary Margaret says slowly, clearly surprised Emma doesn’t know that. That’s fair. It’s probably the first thing a friend should ask. “He’d been there for a few years.” “With Milah?” “He told you about Milah?” Emma nods, the unspoken lie heavy on her tongue. “Yup.” “Well, it’s not my story. But, like I said, I’m just glad you’re happy. Both of you.”

You can’t keep sending me the same text message every morning, Swan. Eventually you’re going to have to get more creative.

I’m not creative. This is as good as it’s going to get, buddy.

It’s good.

Yeah? Yeah. Be safe later, ok?

I’m not doing anything. Just following up on that lead with David.

Safe, Swan. Please.

Ok. I’ll call you when my shift’s over.

Good.  

 “You need to go further up on the right.” Killian groans, but does as Emma instructs, moving the sign and glancing over his shoulder expectantly. Emma grins. “That’s good,” she nods.

“Good because I think I dislocated both my shoulders doing that.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re the most dramatic man in the world.”

“Not even the Tri-State area.” He flashes her a smile, shaking the hair away from his eyes and he asked her to come see the bar that afternoon. His shirt is sticking to his arms.

Emma really wants to kiss him. She texts Ruby that later.

The audio file Ruby sends back is fourteen straight seconds of her very loud laughter.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” Emma startles at the question, curled into the corner of Killian’s couch with her head propped up on the arm and another Disney movie playing in the background. It’s a thing. Apparently.

“Well, that’s a question,” Emma mumbles, Killian’s expression turning almost regretful. “Why do you ask?” He shrugs. It looks like a lie. It feels like a lie. “Just wondering.” “Yuh huh. Well...Mary Margaret can’t actually keep a secret so...do you know about Neal?” “Should I?” “I’m surprised you don’t,” Emma says, nerves churning until she’s certain they’re burning the back of her throat. Emotional acid reflux. “Neal was...a guy. A guy I met in Boston. And it was good for awhile. Comfortable and normal and I thought--well, a lot of things I shouldn’t have.” “No?” “No.” “And what happened?” “I’m here, aren’t I?” Killian hums. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to Swan.” Emma considers that – rehashing past pains and almost theres and she’d really thought Neal had been it. She’s not sure if it’s worse now that he isn’t. Mostly because it is sitting across from her with wide eyes that are obviously interested and too blue to be fair and she takes a deep breath before she actually decides.

“I thought Neal was a good guy,” Emma explains. “He was nice and charming and not always on the up and up, but I was doing bail bonds, not actual police work and I didn’t really care as long as I got the paycheck. Anyway, I knew he was into some shady stuff, but I liked him. He liked me. We were good. Until we were very not good.” Killian’s expression darkens slightly, concern almost palpable. “How not good is not good?” “Almost jail not good.” “What?” he balks, and that’s an emotion Emma is not entirely prepared for. The muscles in his throat shift when he swallows, eyes narrowing until they’re not much more than slits and his chest heaves when she rests her hand there.

“Take, like, eight-hundred steps back. I obviously didn’t go to jail. But it was--well, it was close. He was fencing this stuff, watches or something and I showed up before I was supposed to. There was a raid and lots of stun guns and have you ever been tased?” “Someone tased you?” “It’s not something I’d suggest experiencing.” “Fucking hell, Swan,” Killian breathes, fingers wrapping around her wrist. “That’s insane.” “Yeah, turned out he was not that great of a dude. He got off from any major time. Community service and a fine, because he’s dad’s super rich and the justice system is a joke, so…” “His dad is super rich and he was still fencing shit?” Emma nods. “He said it was kind of a thrill. You know, sticking it to the man or whatever.” “What an ass.” “Yeah, in retrospect. But, uh...I was kind of mad about everything still. The whole childhood thing leaves just this gaping hole of bitterness and one family in Ohio said I was, wait for it, too testy to be adopted.” “Testy?” “That’s what they said. On the official report.” Killian clicks his tongue, anger turning to disbelief almost visibly. “That’s not true, Swan.” “No?” “No,” he says, and it sounds like a promise. Her heart grows, the feel of it pressing between each one of  her ribs and several different internal organs until she’s almost concerned for the state of her spleen.

She probably doesn’t need her spleen.

She’d probably give up her spleen if he kept looking at her like that.

“You are…” Killian adds, “the opposite of that. Determined and a little stubborn, with some very strong opinions on Chinese food--” “--Those egg rolls we got the other day were garbage and you know it!” “So you mentioned, Swan. The point I’m making is that even if you hoped this asshole might have been something more than what he was, he still would have been the world’s biggest dick for ever thinking you deserved to get lied to.”

Her spleen hurts. It’s ridiculous.

“Thanks,” she whispers, not nearly enough. She can’t come up with another word. Killian smiles. “That’s not something you have to thank me for, love. Ever.”

She can feel the heat in her cheeks, heart hammering against her chest. And she hasn't, actually, come out and answered his question. "So, um," Emma mumbles, "that's it, I guess. I just--I thought, Neal was something or could have been someone and I really did love him and--" She shrugs. It's depressing. Killian's eyes are still impossibly narrow. "Well, it wasn't the moment, I guess."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Had a moment?"

"God, I hate that. It's such a dumb name."

"Yeah, it is," Killian agrees, clearly noticing the bitterness in her voice and Emma can almost see him staging his retreat. "I'm sorry. That's, I shouldn't have--"

"--I thought it was Neal," Emma cuts in. The words are sharper than she intends them to be, but they also feel like they're doing permanent damage to her lips and Killian worries enough while she's at work. She can't imagine what he'll do if she starts bleeding from metaphorical knives on his couch. 

"He wasn't."

She freezes. 

Every single one of her muscles tenses. 

It is equally the single worst and best thing she's ever experienced in her life. 

And Killian's mouth is hanging open, eyes staring straight at her with an intensity that does something else to Emma's muscles and several different biological systems and it's entirely possible her spleen has just fallen on the floor at this point. She kind of feels like she's crumbling apart anyway. 

"He wasn't," Killian repeats, softer, but just as determined, a certainty in every single letter than Emma can't wrap her mind around. Yet. She assume she'll think about it on loop for, at least, the next forty-eight hours, though. "He...he couldn't have been. The whole soulmate thing is a mess, Swan. It's--" Another shrug. She's counting now. It's absurd. "Everyone's got a different way of knowing and they all want it, but it's...it should be more than that, don't you think?"

"Sure?"

"Swan."

"I'm just not sure where you're going with this."

"It's not forced love, but it's--well, it's supposed to be easier, right? And there's nothing wrong with people who don't have soulmates."

"You're genuinely not making any sense."

Killian scowls, leaning forward and Emma isn't sure if he means to do that. "I know, I know, I just..."

“Why do you order such ridiculous coffee every time we go out?” He chuckles, a quick press of what may actually be his lips to the bridge of her nose. “That same bitterness as you, I suppose. And a distinct lack of money or anything except, sometimes, the clothes on my back. I can do it now, so I’m going to get extra foam. Why don’t you get better coffee?” “That’s just a very pointed judgment regarding my coffee order.” “And not an answer.”

Emma sighs. He’s right. And very good at understanding. “I don’t want to overstep,” she mumbles. “Get more than I deserve.” “That’s not how it works, Swan.” “Tell that to my brain.” He leans forward slowly and for one crazy second she thinks he’s actually going to kiss her. She wants him to, desperately if she’s being honest, but that’s him and not her and the lying is getting harder. “That’s not how it works, Swan,” Killian repeats, pressing the words to the crown of her head.

She feels her smile spread across her face slowly, settling there. For posterity or something. “That was ridiculous.” “You believe me?” “A work in progress.” He definitely kisses her hair. “Good.”

The bar opens. A week before the wedding, which Emma thinks is absolutely insane, but Killian just flashes her a smile and it makes a little more sense after that.

He’s standing behind the counter, a towel draped over his shoulder and there are several pieces of hair she’d like to do something about. Brush away. Slowly. Possibly romantically.

She feels a little drunk already.

“What’s your poison, love?” Emma’s laugh is far too loud. It soars out of her, makes her body shake and forces the edge of the counter into her stomach. She’s leaning over the counter. “You can’t use that when you have actual customers, you know,” she says. “They’ll walk out.” “That’s a legitimate question.” “No, it’s not. That’s a bad pun used in, like, movies from the 70s.” “Ah, we haven’t really focused on movies from the 70s, yet, have we?” Emma stops laughing. Her lips feel very dry. “No,” she mutters. “Not yet.”

“And, strictly speaking, it was really more of a rhetorical question, than anything.” Killian grins again, crouching to grab a glass and his eyebrows do something absurd when he flips it. And catches it. “Also, are you suggesting you’re not an actual customer, Swan?”

She hopes her lips don’t actually crack right there.

That would be gross.

Super gross.

Not appropriate for a bar opening with all their friends around gross.

Emma shakes her head slowly, tongue flashing between her lips and he’s still smiling at her. She’s having a difficult time breathing. Which is also impressive since her mouth is hanging open. “I’m just, you know--” “Right,” Killian says, nudging a glass of whiskey towards her hands. It’s filled to the brim. “You are my favorite customer. Bar none.” “Was that also a joke?” “Not intentionally.” “Impressive, then.” He hums, another twist of eyebrows. “Right? You want to watch me throw glassware again?” “Do not throw glasses,” Robin calls from the other side of the bar. Emma laughs again. And Killian’s smile softens, eyes falling back to Emma when his hand tugs on the hair behind his ear.

“I’m going to throw more glasses.” “Oh, I know you are,” Emma says, and it sounds like a promise.

He only breaks one, a fact he’s quick to point out, hours later, tucked into the corner with his arm around Emma and her head on his shoulder.

She doesn’t notice anyone else staring at them.

 “You kiss him yet?” Ruby asks, perched on the edge of Emma’s desk the day before they’re supposed to leave for the rehearsal dinner. “Get off there.” “Yes or no?” “No.” “You want to?” “Obviously.” Ruby chuckles, but it’s almost sympathetic. “Yeah, I figured. He’s probably going to die when he sees your dress.”

“How many shoes are you bringing?” Killian calls from the other side of the apartment and Emma’s not sure when she just started coming there consistently, but it must have been after the Disney thing and he really liked Tangled. She can’t even make fun of that.

She really likes Tangled.

“Uh…three?” “Three?” “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

He leans around the bedroom door, skepticism painted on every single inch of his face. “Three? Should I be bringing three pairs of shoes?”

Emma waves her hands through the air, and she’s going to have to leave soon. She’s got to get up to drive out to some castle on Long Island and of course Regina is getting married on a castle on Long Island. There’s going to be so much weekender traffic heading East.

And she’s not entirely sure why she’s being asked these kinds of questions, but everything has been so easy and hanging out isn’t that, so much as it’s just existing in each other’s spaces.

Like they’re supposed to.

Cowardly and a great, big giant liar, kind of petulant, just sort of a jerk, so goddamn depressed she’s positive she reeks with it and an incredible over-packer.

Three pairs of shoes is entirely unnecessary.

“Your heels, sneakers and flats?” Killian lists, still twisted and the door frame must be pressing into his liver.

“Nah, two pairs of flats.” “That was my second guess.” “Sure it was. What time are you going to leave tomorrow?” Emma asks. She jumps off the couch, swinging open the refrigerator door in a familiar way and he’s started buy vanilla coke zero. He never drinks it.

Emma averages two cans a day.

“Killian?” she continues, flinching when she feels a hand curling around her shoulder. “God, don’t sneak up on me like that. I definitely could have punched you in the face.”

He laughs, the feel of it brushing against the side of her neck and that one very specific spot behind her ear and Emma knows there are goosebumps on her skin. She bites her lower lip. “I really doubt that, love. Think of all the damage you could inflict.” “Far too confident in your own good looks.” “Undoubtedly.”

She doesn't giggle. She will tell herself that for several hours later that night, she’s sure. She does, at least smile, head falling back without her explicit permission. Killian doesn’t flinch. “What time?’ she asks again. “There’s going to be so much traffic on the Expressway.” “We’ll take the Northern State.” “Oh, that’s even--wait, did you say we?” He spins her, quick enough that her socks squeak on the linoleum floor. The tips of his ears have gone red. “A thought,” Killian murmurs. “More efficient. Something about our carbon footprints. And I just--I thought maybe we could talk.” “You don’t want to talk now?” “How much whiskey have you had?” “Not a ton,” Emma sputters, but Killian is impossibly good at reading her and she’s honestly the world’s worst liar. “How much rum have you had?” “Enough.”

She narrows her eyes, suspicion fluttering at the base of her skull. "What are you thinking?"

"How do you know I'm thinking anything?"

"You're doing that thing with your face." And for how narrow her eyes were, or, maybe, still are, Killian's widen to a near-comical size, taking up half his face and Emma grits her teeth. Hard. It makes her jaw ache. "I just..." she stammers, waving her hands in the air. That is not making it less awkward. "Well, you have a face."

"I think you may be drunk."

"You wan to talk about secret things!"

Killian sighs out a sound that isn't quite a laugh, but may just be the audible version of very real nerves and Emma continues to ignore the fluttering. It's not quite suspicion anymore, so much as it's...fear. That's absurd. She's got nothing to be scared of. This is fine. It's fine. They're going to drive to a castle and fake everything and lie to several people if they ask and she assumes Cora only stocks her open bars with top shelf liquor. 

So, that's, like, a very real positive. 

And yet. 

She's scared and nervous and scared, again, just for good measure. That this very real, very good thing, that is also the most positive anything she can remember having in forever is about to blow up. Right in her face. 

Emma wishes he weren't actually her soulmate. 

It'd be easier that way.

"Not secret, love," Killian mutters, and she hasn't been breathing. "Important. That's--" His teeth find his lip, fingers tugging on the back of his hair. "--I think we should both be pretty sober for it." “Ok...so you want to drive out to the castle--” “--Oheka,” Killian interrupts. “That was on the invitation, love.” “Please, like you’ve done anything with the invitation except glare at it for costing too much.” “It’s Oheka. It’s very fancy. Very famous. I can pick you up tomorrow. I don’t mind driving.” Emma nods. “Or, um...well, my stuff is already in my car. I threw it in there today so I didn’t have to worry about it tomorrow. I figured I’d leave early so I’d beat the traffic.” “You brought all your stuff here?” Killian asks, and the hint of hope in his voice feels cruel and unusual. Emma’s a cop. She knows how that works. She’s torturing herself though, so that’s probably different. “Stay here then.” It’s not a question. It’s a hope and a want and she finds herself nodding again, the whiskey in her veins thrumming with the magic of everything and she needs to tell him. This is such a bad idea.

“Ok.” “Ok.” They spend no more than five minutes arguing sleeping arrangements, Emma rolling her eyes dramatically and Killian huffing and it’s pointless because she’s pretty positive they both want to sleep in the bed and, well...they do. It’s the best she’s slept in years, an easy rest that feels deeper than REM and like the start of something and everything and she moves her car into Killian’s spot after he grabs her bag out of the backseat.

[ageeksnerdyworld]

Reasons To Have 30+ Jason In The DCEU:

First off in most comic canon, comic adaptations, and even fan fiction Jason is usually depicted as being eighteen years old. At the most he’s twenty. Now that’s all fine and dandy, but, it just simply does not work for the films.

The only way it would is if they made Jason the first Robin, and thus screw up the timeline, but since they’re making a Nightwing movie this doesn’t seem like a possibility. That being said, if you really think about it, having Jason be in his early twenties doesn’t work for quite a number of reasons. (All under the cut because this gets pretty long.)

DC Rebirth

Older Batman

Overdone

Jensen Ackles

Time to tackle these points…

DC Rebirth:

Jason’s already been aged in Rebirth. We don’t know exactly how old he is now but we can make a pretty good guess given what information we have available. For starters in many panels of Rebirth RHATO when it shows Jason’s past it clearly states YEARS AGO. Even when it shows his death it says YEARS AGO. So we know that a chunk of time has passed between the day he died and right now. We don’t know how much but it’s implied to be quite some time.

In the very first issue Jason tells us, via internal monologue, that he was sixteen when he first met Batman: I’d like to think that I’ve changed since he came across that punk kid in the alley. … But I’ve got something I never had when I was sixteen years old.

Sixteen when he met Bats. Remember that.

But that doesn’t tell us how long Jason was around before Joker killed him. And we’ve never gotten a clear-cut answer on that. We all know that Bruce trained each and every Robin for quite awhile before he deemed them combat ready. U.S. Army Basic Combat Training (BCT) is nine weeks, Air Force is six weeks with one week of processing, while U.S. Marine Corp training is 12 weeks and four days of processing. I feel like Bruce developed his own time frame based on U.S. military branch times it had to be at least a couple years.

One year to settle into everything that the life of a being the son of Gotham’s most prominent billionaire entailed. Maybe a year of actual training because let’s face it two and a half months isn’t going to be enough. (12 weeks = 2 ½ months.) And then a probationary year of actual Robin work.

Three years. Remember that.

There’s a lot of speculation around Jason’s tenure as Robin. We all know that his tenure didn’t last as long as it was supposed to since he died but we need to know how long that time frame was. Some people say two years; citing age difference in relation to other characters. In N52 RHATO Jason said he was Robin for at least a year. We have nothing on this from Rebirth so far. It makes more sense for his tenure as Robin to be two years rather than one.

Why two? Well, that’s easier than you might think. The Dynamic Duo needs the time to adjust to working with one another. They need the time to learn from each other as well as with each other. To grow better as a pair, as a team, and all that because Bruce isn’t working with Dick anymore. A year is a long time but not as long as you might think in the grand scheme of things.

Two years. Remember that.

Back in 1988 when DC killed Jason for the first time (which started the chain reaction of killing him over and over again with each new revamping) we actually see Jason’s death certificate. And how old was he when he died on April 27th, 1988?

Fifteen.

Rebirth Jason has already surpassed the age of his previous incarnation’s death. So why would he be the same age after coming back? Why would be that same eighteen/nineteen/twenty-year-old? Yes, I know that one year isn’t that much of a difference. But I’m not done with Rebirth Jason yet.

We know, from Lobdell’s previous RHATO run, that the dip in the Lazarus Pit aged Jason. He was fifteen when he went in and around eighteen when he came out. Or he could be nineteen. Possibly twenty. So that’s a three-five year age difference.

Three to five years. Remember that.

Ok. Back to Rebirth Jason. We have seen Jason in a bar a couple of times. Once with the helmet on and once with the helmet off. The scene where he’s in a bar with his helmet off is from issue #8 and is far more important. He’s not just in a bar. He’s drinking in a bar.

Legal drinking age in the U.S. is 21. Remember that.

Most bars, if not all, card the patrons when they order. Even if they appear to be of legal drinking age. Why? Because that’s the law. And I know some of you would say If someone walks into your bar with guns and a mask on wouldn’t you serve them a drink no matter how old they were? And he’s in Gotham after all so they’re used to that kinda thing. Well, first of all, we don’t know if Jason wore his mask as he walked into the bar. All we see that Jason is sitting at the counter and his mask is laying on it.

But there is no clear distinction on whether or not he wore it as he entered the bar and ordered. He most likely would’ve been carded.

And remember this little quote from Issue #4: Have to remember every trick I learned in every therapy session I had in Arkham. What did Dr. Quinzel say? “If you can’t talk to me, talk to the wall, a pillow, anything…”

Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Jason not only went there but spent time with Harley when she was a doctor instead of an inmate. (This could be a reference to The Arkham Knight but I highly doubt that.) I think that the above quote is saying exactly what its saying. Jason spent time in Arkham with Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Which he did before in N52. But since Rebirth is a whole new timeline it can’t be just a N52 reference either. Jason spent time in Arkham in this current timeline as well.

That also adds something to what his age is at the start of Rebirth doesn’t it?

The question that remains is: How much time? I’m going to say at least a year. Maybe more. The way the first line reads makes me think it was more than just a few weeks. More than a couple months. He’s spent enough time with Harleen to learn what methods she was using on him. To not only learn those methods but well enough to be able to properly apply them to other people. That being said I think Jason was in Arkham for two or three years. Let’s say three just to be safe because things take time.

Three years. Remember that.

(Side note: Jason’s time at Arkham would fall right before the start of Rebirth. As Rebirth starts Jason’s already been Red Hood for some time. He lost Bruce’s trust through his violent methods and then I’m thinking that Bruce confronted Jason early on and sent him to Arkham to get the help he needed. That patched things up between the two enough for Bruce to work with Jason again.)

Do you remember everything I asked you to?

Sixteen when he met Batman. Three years of training. Two years as Robin. Aged three to five years from The Lazarus Pit. Three years in Arkham. And he has to be at least twenty-one.

Add all that up and Jason’s at least twenty-seven in Rebirth. Possibly twenty-nine.

That’s a pretty big jump from eighteen. So what’s wrong with aging him a little bit more? Especially when we have an…

Older Batman:

We all know that the Bruce Wayne/Batman of the DCEU is 50.

Most of the time, in the comics, Bruce looks to be about in his early thirties. This would make the older Batkids somewhere in their early twenties but we’ve already said that Jason is usually depicted as being eighteen in the comics. Sometimes he makes it up to twenty, but, never really any older than that.

Now with a thirty-year-old Bruce Wayne this makes sense. Does it make sense for a fifty-year-old Bruce? No. It does not.

Thirty to fifty is a twenty year difference that you would have to then also apply to the rest of the Batfam if you’re applying it to Bruce. Which would make Jason how old exactly if he was just eighteen?

Thirty-eight years old.

But if we go off his 27/29 Rebirth age then making him almost 40 is way too old. Thirty-five, though, would be perfect. Making Jason 35 in his first DCEU appearance makes quite a lot of sense. It makes sense with an older Bruce. Thirty-five is old enough to give him plenty of enough time to actually do the things he does to become the Red Hood. Gives him the time he needs to establish the fact that he’s a vigilante. The time he needs to make his way back to Gotham. Time he needs to decide to carry out his revenge.

He doesn’t get enough time if he’s only eighteen or twenty. And having an older Jason Todd is great especially when young superheroes are...

Overdone:

I don’t about all y’all but I’m extremely tired of superheroes always being in the early-mid twenties age range. For comics that age range makes more sense because these characters are meant to appeal to people of that age. And teen superheroes are made to appeal to younger audiences.

All these twenty-something-year-olds feels overdone. (And not just in the superhero genre but that’s not what we’re here to talk about.)

Everyone acts like these characters can stay the same age forever and that it’s okay. It is. For the comics. Its fine for these characters to stay around the same age for revamps in comic canon since comics, and their characters, are supposed to be timeless and appeal to all ages. But since superhero movie are trying to have a more realistic feel to them the twenty-year-old superhero takes away from that added realism.

A thirty-five year old Jason Todd would add more.

Everyone also acts like young superheroes don’t get enough time in the limelight. But just because we don’t see a lot of live-action youngins doesn’t mean they don’t get their fair share of exposure.

X-Men is all about teen superheroes. May I also direct your attention to Young Justice (which currently getting a third season) which is all about teen superheroes doing their own thing? Or what about DC Super Hero Girls which takes every single adult female character and de-ages them into high school teens? Teen Titans and Teen Titans Go? Power Puff Girls? Every single cartoon or movie centered on Spider-Man because for some unknown reason Marvel can never age Peter past teen years. And Ultimate Spider-Man de-aged many adult superheroes into teens as well.

Kick-Ass’s main character, Dave Lizewski, is a teenager who sets out to become a real-life superhero. Chris D’Amico, one of the villains is also a teenager. Hit-Girl, the other main hero, is only eleven. And in the sequel Kick-Ass 2 the MCs from the first movie form a team with other teen heroes and the main villain is the still Chris D’Amico from the first Kick-Ass. (FYI Kick-Ass is based off the comic series of the same name.)

That’s quite enough exposure of teen/kid heroes, right? But that’s not all. Even non-comic book super powered people are more often kids or teens.

Chronicle is a movie all about ordinary kids who develop superpowers and set out to become heroes. Sky High, also a movie, surrounded a flying school for super-powered kids. Three out of five of the MCs in The Incredibles were children. (And, yes, I counted Jack-Jack.) Eleven from Stranger Things. Almost every character in The Darkest Minds book series, which is being turned into a movie, is a teenager with some sort of superpower. The movie reboot of Power Rangers still centers on teenagers in high school. (I don’t remember if the Power Rangers comics existed first or the TV show but I’m pretty sure the movie is based off the TV show so I put it here.)

The sidekick is always a kid. On many occasions the superheroes are kids. The grown-up sidekick turned hero is always a young adult. And all the above mentioned shows and movies don’t challenge this trend in any way shape or form.

Making Jason Todd somewhere in his thirties would turn that trend on its head by making the sidekick-turned-hero character an actual adult. (And since we will be getting a Nightwing movie Dick will have to also be an adult. It wouldn’t really make much sense if Dick’s an adult and Jason’s not. Jason’s only been Red Hood when Dick is Nightwing, after all.) And who would be the best choice to play an older Jason?

Jensen Ackles:

Jensen has already played Jason in UTRH so he has experience playing him. Given the fact that he has this experience he would bring all that to a live-action portrayal. And bringing that experience would just make the portrayal all that much better. (It’s just like how movie franchise/TV actors just keep getting better as their character, you know?)

I know y’all are going to be like But they should give someone else a chance but do you really want to risk it? Do you really want to risk having such a beloved character getting a horrible portrayal? Do you really want a repeat of Leto’s Joker?

Let’s just say we take away his UTRH portrayal for a quick second here.

That still leaves us with an actor who has experience in portraying the kind of person Jason is. Experience which can only help his portrayal after all. Time and time again Jensen has played characters with deep-seated emotional and psychological issues. Most of which were never treated, or even addressed, and if they were treatment didn’t help. Characters like: Tom Hanniger, CJ, and Ben from My Bloody Valentine, Dawson’s Creek and Dark Angel respectively.

Jensen has loads of experience playing characters with an overwhelming need for parental, most of the time fatherly, approval as well. Characters like: Dean Winchester and Jason Teague from Supernatural and Smallville respectively. And almost all of these mentioned characters use more a violent approach to doing what needs to be done. (Including Alex McDowell, also from Dark Angel, whom I forgot to mention.)

Also he’s the right age. But, even if they don’t make Jason exactly thirty-five, Jensen could still be believable as someone in their late-twenties or early-thirties.

I’m not saying they need to cast Jensen I’m just saying it only makes sense to have Jason be in his 30s.

[geeks-fics]

MQKA Chapter 1

An irondad/batfam crossover fic

AO3 link

(Do not tag as s*arker or bat*est)

Tony chuckles and swings an arm around Peter's shoulders. They were out celebrating the end of Peter's sophomore year with burgers and milkshakes. Sure Peter was a genius and it wasn't a surprise he made straight A's, but Tony knew how it felt to not have that acknowledged. So since May was away at a two-week nursing seminar and Peter was staying with him, Tony had taken it upon himself to celebrate with the kid. They were originally meant to eat out at some new sushi place, but Pepper had to cancel last minute, so Tony and Peter had exchanged one look before happily changing out of their dress clothes. Tony had gone with his classic sunglasses combined with a hippie type beanie he had bought just to embarrass Peter as a disguise.

They had taken the subway to Peter's neighborhood and Tony had let the teen drag him everywhere before they finally stopped for food. At the moment they were leisurely making their way back to the tower for Mario Kart.

"I'm serious Mr. Stark, there is no way you can beat me. With my extra experience and Spidey Sense-"

"I still like Peter Tingle more."

Peter glares at Tony and he smirks back.

"I just think we should play something more fit for you."

"Oh like what?"

"Like Wii golf." Peter smirks.

"Wow I am-"

Suddenly a red glowing light bursts to life in front of them. Immediately the hole begins to pull and tug them towards it. Tony taps his chest and pushes Peter behind him. He hears the tell-tale sound of a web being shot and barely has time to see it whip around and away from its trajectory, towards the portal before he's sucked into it himself and the world goes black.                                                      

                                                                                                          ________________

"Grayson!"

Dick groans and pulls his plush blanket over his head.

"Richard!"

He groans again.

"Richard! If you do not get up within the next five minutes I will refuse to watch any more insipid cartoons with you for the next week!"

Dami's quiet steps sound as he walks  away from Dick's door.

Is that worth getting out of his warm cloud for? Really? They could just watch more next week.

Except the next movie was a sequel, and in Dami's own little way he had expressed… anticipation for the next one. And with the crazy lives everyone around here led Dick was happy to get his littlest brother interested in something age appropriate.

Fine.

Dick drags himself out of bed legs first and picks a blue shirt out of his dresser to go with his sweatpants then heads downstairs to the kitchen. Alfred's idea to keep a few outfits at the manor was really paying off, just a couple of months ago he had been forced to borrow one of Bruce's shirts after an impromptu stay over.

Even if Dami isn't in the kitchen grabbing some coffee would probably be a good idea. Despite Damian's seemingly uncaring attitude he wouldn't have woken Dick up on the only morning he allowed himself to sleep in on without good reason, it would be a good idea to be alert.

Pushing the door open reveals Damian sitting at the kitchen table speaking with Alfred. Dick can get coffee and talk to Dami. Good.

He purposely scuffs his feet against the floor causing the youngest bat kid to turn in his chair and look at his brother. His eyes soften around the corners and his mouth twitches, obviously relieved Dick had gotten up. Dick grins in return, sleepily ruffling his brother's hair on the way to the coffee machine. He smiles at Alfred too, as he pours equal parts creamer and coffee into an oversized Batman mug.

"Good morning Master Richard."

"M-" Dick clears his throat, "Morning Alfie."

He takes his mug to seat across from Damian. The fact that not one of his other family members are at the table speaks volumes about what an early hour on a Sunday this is. Saturday nights are always some of the heaviest for crime so the Family had almost always allowed themselves to sleep in the morning after. Even when Dick was Robin he and Bruce never did anything more strenuous than watch T.V. before twelve on Sundays. It felt very wrong to be up at, (what is the time? The clock says a little after eight),  eight on a Saturday.

Dick looks at the kid in front of him, his face impassive, only something that he did when anxious lately, and hands tightly clasp.

Dick takes a long sip of his coffee then asks "Alright Dami, what was so urgent?"

Damian's face twitches a little. "Todd called."

Well that was unexpected. Jason rarely called, preferring to just show up unannounced. And considering they had just spoken the night before he must have had some kind of news to share with the family. Though none of that explained why Damian had been the one to pick up the call. Dami doesn't elaborate. Dick arches an eyebrow in a way reminiscent of their shared parent.

Damian sighs. "I was on way way back from using the facilities when the house phone rang. As such I decided to answer it."

Well if it was the house phone than it probably wasn't the most urgent thing. Dick relaxes a little and opens his mouth to say so, but Damian cuts him off. "Todd said he had first tried to contact everyone's comms, even Drake's, before calling the manor."

"Oh."

"Yes."

Dick waits, but Damian doesn't volunteer any more information. Dick lets out an exasperated breath and prompts "And?"

Damian's eyes narrow. "And what?" he snaps. Dick is used to his littlest brother's prickly attitude after four years of knowing him, so he simply rolls his eyes before elaborating, "What did Jay want?"

"He said he wouldn't tell me while I was alone. As if I am some pathetic child, I could easily dismember-"

"Ah, ok. Let's not go there, I'm sure Jay had a perfectly acceptable reason not to tell you."

Or he was just an a**. But Dick wasn't going to tell Damian that, considering that would undermine his efforts to get him to accept his other brothers. And probably make Alfred withhold anymore coffee creamer.

"Did he say anything else?"

"Just that I should wake either you or Father and bring you to the Batcave before nine."

That's not creepy at all Jason. Nope, completely normal request. Totally. Also should Dick be flattered or concerned that Damian chose to wake him up instead of Bruce. Or maybe he knew more about the nature of Jason's message than he was letting on and simply knew that Dick was less likely to bench him.

"Well see, it's not as if he's completely excluding you. Knowing Jason it's probably just some stupid prank or something. It'll be fine Lil'D."

Damian looks skeptical but relents anyway, turning his attention to the newly arrived Alfred. The cat, not their adoptive grandfather. Dick finishes off his coffee and announces that he'll meet Damian in the cave after he changes into some more presentable civvies.

"I would remember to bring a mask Master Richard, you never know with Master Jason," Alfred's lips quirk a little.

Dick laughs. "You're right Alfred, for all we know Jay has brought home another orphan, or worse. Thank you for reminding me. You should probably bring one too Dami."

"-Tt-"

                                                                                                                _____________

"It seems that your guess was not too far off Grayson," Damian deadpans, still looking at the two limp bodies stuffed into the back of Jason's car. Or the car he stole from Bruce about six months after he started associating with them again, not that anyone cared anymore.

"Dickiebird! I thought we were past automatically grouping me in with violence," Jason grins sharply. He knew they were past that, if it had ever truly been a problem any way. But… He did have two bodies in his backseat so…..

"To be fair Jaybird I said orphan not….. whatever they are." Dick glances back down at Jason's back seat. "Ok, give us the story. Watch their parents die? Find 'em stealing your tires?" Dick smirks at his little brother's scowl, he obviously didn't like the comparison.

"Todd obviously didn't mean to find these ruffians Grayson," Damian puts in smirking, "Of course, neither did Father."

Jason scowl deepens, but the light in his eyes let's Dick know that both of his brothers knew the other was teasing. He grins as Jason snarls back with a "Shut up demon spawn, at least we weren't assassin babies. And one if these guys are as old as Bruce, and the other one is probably as old as Tim is."

"Well-"

"Ok baby bros, you can do this again later. For now, Jason, where did you find them? And why are they dressed like that?"

The first figure was dressed mostly normal, in a blue hoodie and jeans. The only oddity was the guy's socks, they were visible where one shoe was missing and they seemingly spread upwards as far as the bats could see, and were red with black lines running across them. The guy was obviously a teen, his brown hair framing a face still holding onto the last remnants of childhood.

It was really the second man who concerned Dick, if he was really a man. He seemed to be mostly encased in a shell of red and yellow armor, only his right hand and half of his face was visible. A cyborg maybe?

Jason gives a huff at the questioning but shifts his focus from Damian to Dick. He smirks knowingly, "I don't why they're dressed up like that, but I assumed that you bats wouldn't like it if I saw a couple of random tin men drop out of a portal while I was on patrol and didn't report it."

Dick's eyebrows shoot up and even Damian's face morphs into something resembling shock before he covers it up with a scowl. "You can't honestly expect us to believe that Todd."

"It definitely wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen in Gotham lil'D,  and Jason is usually honest."

"Exactly, plus why would I go through the trouble of kidnapping a couple of civvies and dressing them like Comic-Con just to fool you dickheads."

Dami scowls but otherwise doesn't protest anymore.

"Is there anything else we should know? Dick glances up from the limp figures to lock eyes with his brother.

"Nope. They fell out of a portal. I saw them. I called mini bat. I brought them here."

Dick runs a hand through his hair and exhales. "Sooooo, any ideas?"

"Wait for them to awake," Damian suggests.

"Unarm them," Dick can't tell if Jason is serious or not.

"Both good points, but we don't know how long it'll be until they wake up or what they are actually carrying. So I think the right course of action would be to wake up B and transfer them to the infirmary," Dick puts on his 'you should definitely agree with me face'.

Damian nods, and Jason sighs adding, "As long as you're the one who goes to wake up B, I don't want to deal with that mood."

"Todd is right Richard, we will situate the prisoners onto the cots," Damian agrees, showing little sympathy for his favorite brother.

Dick cringes and nods, turning his back on his brothers and climbing the stairs back to the manor.

                                                                                                                ____________

Dick wisely grabs a travel mug of Bruce's favorite coffee from Alfred before traversing the staircase up to his dad's room. On the way he briefly considers waking up Tim too, but the knowledge that the teen is actually asleep for once holds him back, if Bruce wants to alert the rest of the family they will, but not until then.

He braces himself as he quietly pushes open Bruce's door and pads inside. Dick has found that over the years Bruce has built up some sort of unconscious family awareness, not automatically waking up like he would with any stranger. This is both a good thing and a bad thing. On one hand Dick couldn't count the times he had gotten away with things just because Bruce didn't wake up, on the other hand all the family members had the extra honor of dealing with the bleary eyed mess that was a Batman that wasn't abruptly woken into fighting mode.

Bruce is sprawled in a very un-batman position, his comforter is twisted around his legs and Dick can barely see the Superman socks Dick got him for his last birthday peeking out from under the covers. The only thing keeping the image from looking like a teenager collapsed after a night of partying is the lack of drool. Even Bruce's black hair is tousled in a way reminiscent of Tim before his first coffee.

Grinning fondly, Dick places the coffee mug on a side table and reaches out to lightly shake Bruce's shoulder. "Bruce, B,  wake up." The man grumbles and shoves his head farther down into the mattress. Dick’s grin stretches further and he sits down on the edge of the bed still shaking his father's shoulder. "C'mon Dad, get up."

Bruce finally rolls over and cracks his eyes open, holding that slightly stunned look he always has when Dick calls him Dad, no matter how many times he does it. Dick knows it's because of all the crappy mistakes Bruce made when Dick was a teen, he also knows that they generally worked past those quickly, but Bruce still beat himself up about a lot of them. Bruce clears his throat and responds with a "Good morning chum."

Dick's grin softens a little and he passes him the coffee. Bruce sits up against the headboard, yawning and rubbing at his forehead. He accepts the mug with a quiet "thank you" and takes a few gulps before placing it to the side and focusing on Dick. He raises a sardonic eyebrow as if to say 'Why am I awake before ten on a Sunday?'

Dick's face becomes a little more serious. "Jason called the manor around six this morning." Bruce's face sobers, Batman slowly creeping in to his expression. "He found two guys being thrown out of a portal on one of his patrol routes. Damian was actually the one to answer the phone and wake me up, he's in the cave helping Jason get the portal guys onto cots."

Bruce nods sharply scooting off the bed. "They could be dangerous, it's probably best to restrain them in the holding cell until we can get a read on them. We should all at least have masks on, if not full costumes. Is Jason certain it was a portal?” Bruce heads to where Dick knows a Batman suit is stashed, he sighs and hangs his head. If Bruce is wearing his uniform they all probably should.

“He said it was definitely a portal and that they were unconscious when they came through. We should expect major disorientation and confusion.” Dick scrunches his nose. “And based on my own portal experiences, maybe some puking. I’m gonna go suit up, you should head  down and get Dami to put on a mask. I'll see you down there."

Bruce grunts in the affirmative as Dick leaves the room to go suit up.