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batsandbugs · 4 years ago

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Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone, coming at you with another series! This is actually for a late secret santa gift exchange! My recipient was @m3owww! Her fandoms were Maribat and Avatar the Last Airbender, so I thought: Why not both? She already had a Maribat characters in the show type fic, so I created a fic where they watched the show. It slowly spiraled out of control though, so this is Chapter 1. I’ll eventually have the batfam (and Marinette) react to the whole series, so comment here and on ao3 what you want to see. So Phi, this is kinda like the gift that will keep on giving? Maybe? I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy!

Our story begins on a frosty winter evening, outside Gotham at Wayne Manor. Marinette sat in the library working on an assignment for her History of Fashion class. She was alone, because Damian, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were out on patrol, with Barbara on comms. Tikki, unless eating or involved with a transformation, spent her time sleeping due to the freezing weather. While the other Kwami either resided in the box or roamed the grounds, and generally stayed out of the human's way.

Marinette gazed out the window, snow falling softly through the air, covering the ground and the tree branches. A crackling fire warmed the room. She shifted, and a painful ache shot through her leg. Marinette glared at the offending appendage, which was the reason she wasn’t out with the team tonight.

Her Miraculous could cure any injury sustained on the battlefield, it didn’t help her one bit when it came to her own natural clumsiness. She hadn’t paid attention as she’d walked out of class one evening. The dim lighting hid a black ice patch and she slipped and fell. Thankfully, her ankle was only sprained and not broken, but she would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Probably more if Alfred got his way.

Speaking of the elderly butler, he strode into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

“Good evening Miss. Marinette. Need another refreshment?”

She sighed at the cold coffee dregs in her mug. “That would be nice, thank you, Alfred.”

He hummed, grabbing a teacup, and pouring her a serving. “How does your leg feel today? I notice you were leaning heavily on Master Damian after supper.” He handed the cup to her and the warmth was a welcome sensation for her chilled hands.

“Yeah, he’s been nice helping me around.” Nice was a misnomer, more like extremely overprotective. He point-blank refused for her to stay at her own apartment, mostly due to its location on the fourth floor with no elevator access. He all but forced her to watch him pack her essentials to bring to the manor while she recovered. Since then, his attentiveness in ensuring she had what she needed within reach and helping her to class had grown. It was a tad smothering considering his usual aloofness, but she enjoyed his actions for the affection it implied.

“It’s throbbing and hot and feels worse than it did three days ago.” She took a tiny sip of the tea and relaxed into its spiced aroma. Alfred made the best tea.

He nodded. “It will feel uncomfortable for a while until it starts to mend. Just continue to rest and remain off it and you will be back to carousing around the city like the rest of them in no time.” He poured his own tea and seated himself in the plush armchair across from her spot on the couch.

“Oh, Alfred you say that as if you would not be right there along with us if age allowed,” said Marinette with a grin. The stories Dusu could recount about the elderly miraculous holder were nothing short of entertaining, and she knew damn well Alfred had the same need for action as the rest of the Waynes and their assorted allies.

“I’d do nothing of the sort,” he said primly, taking a sip of his tea to hide the tiny smirk on his face. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant silence. Despite the pain in her leg Marinette pushed through it and finished her assignment, while Alfred read until it neared time when patrol ended. He bustled up the remains of the tea and promise her a fresh cup when he finished seeing everyone arrive safely.

Later, although she could not say how long, she was buried deep in a book and didn’t notice when Damian entered the room until he sat next to her on the couch.

“Good evening angel.” His hair flopped in his eyes, loose and damp from the shower. In his hands, he held a tray with two cups of steaming tea.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered cup of tea with a smile. “How was patrol?”

“Boring,” he sighed. “You certainly are not missing anything.” If he wouldn’t have taken offense to it, Marinette would have described the look on his face as a pout.

“What about the drug seller Tim tracked to the lower docks?”

Damian shrugged. “Gone silent after we busted the last shipment. Seventeen years in and maybe the criminals finally figured out committing crimes in the same city as a relentless vigilante team is a bad idea,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling. It was a common joke among the family that Gotham’s criminals never learned.

“I think it means we’re doing our job right,” said Tim walking in with a steaming mug. Marinette opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

“Like Pennyworth would let him drink anything else this time of night,” scoffed Damian, while taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own caffeine intake, thanks,” Tim said in offense, seating himself across from the couch in the reading chair previously abandoned by Alfred.

“No, you’re not,” called a voice from the hallway. Dick walked in with a large mug of what was undoubtedly hot chocolate. “The last time he didn’t check your drink after patrol, you used coffee instead of water to brew another pot, and then added four whole bottles of five-hour energy. You didn’t sleep for three days.”

“I also solved five crimes, figured out where the Penguin was hiding, and streamlined the dropbox submission system for Wayne Industries. Life requires tradeoffs.”

“No that’s just you, ignoring basic human necessities. Anyway, besides Tim’s caffeine addiction, what are we talking about?” asked Dick.

“The reason for the lack of crime,” offered Marinette.

Dick shrugged, “Happens every year because of the weather. Even criminals get cold. They’ll return to their usual transgressions once the weather warms.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Not everyone receives extreme weather training under threat of dismemberment, demon brat. We should take the opportunity to enjoy the break.”

“Tim, your version of a “break” involves paperwork,” chided Dick.

“It’s not my fault the rest of you people don’t have lives. I’m a remarkably busy person. And what is this, the-criticize-Tim-hour?”

“Oh, only an hour?” smirked Damian. “I thought it was a continuous event, one could choose to participate in whenever the mood struck. I will have to file all my complaints immediately.”

Tim pouted. “Marinette,” he whined. “Can’t you control him?”

She shrugged, “What do you expect me to do? I’m his girlfriend, not his minder. Besides, they criticize because they care.” She laughed when all three boys snarled their noses at the prospect of feelings.

“Marinette, angel, please; never say that again. I criticize because I am right, and they should know it. Not because of any high-minded ideals such as genuine affection.”

“Okay, okay, enough,” said Dick. “If we have a bit of a break, we should do something! Together, as a family. I think Cass and Steph come back in two days.”

“Grayson, just because your girlfriend is off-world visiting family and you have nothing to do does not mean it holds true for the rest of us.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tim, “Except not quite, because I don’t have a girlfriend, but I just said I’m busy. R&D is rolling out a new prototype next week, and I have two board meetings scheduled and-”

“Not to mention,” Marinette cut Tim off. He could talk about his schedule forever because he just had that many events. “I can’t move around, what would we even do? Play games?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The list of games officially banned in our family includes, but is not limited to; Monopoly, Uno, Checkers, Risk, Risk: Legacy, Twister, Jenga, Clue, Guess Who, Poker, Chess, and Go Fish.”

“Oh…” muttered Marinette.

“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”

“After the Wii Bowling incident of 2013, the media room wall was never the same,” Dick said, shaking his head in despair.

“I actually apologized for that, okay?” exclaimed Damian. “Why do you always have to bring it up?”

Marinette fully intended to ask about the incident later. “Okay, so games are out.”

“Ooh,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “How about we call a Family T.V. Event?”

Tim groaned, “The last time we did that we blew up the shed, and got the police called.”

“Well, we won’t watch a crime show.” Dick turned to Marinette. “Jason picked; we watched Breaking Bad.”

“I can see how that would spiral out of control.”

“The time before that, we set fire to the media room and started a familial feud,” Damian pointed out. “Game of Thrones,” he added when Marinette looked to him for clarification.

“Even worse.”

“Okay, fine, so we don’t have the best track record picking shows. But I swear I have a good one this time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

Tim snorted. “What? Like the kid’s show?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Really Grayson, a cartoon? I know you are developmentally stuck at five, but not all of us are.”

“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard good things about it,” said Marinette. She knew there was a French translation of the show, but she preferred to watch media in its original language. Before moving to America, before dating Damian, her English had not been strong enough to confidently watch a show and understand all of it.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Dick. “I know you three and Cass haven’t seen it, and neither has Bruce or Alfred. I would bet Jason’s seen some of it, but I’ll have to check. Barbara and I have, but that’s fine, she loves the show. We’ll have to see about Steph too, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it regardless. There are awesome characters, battles, suspense, comedy, and it’s not likely going to inspire us to blow up the shed or tear each other to pieces!”

“I have in no way agreed to this Grayson. Drake back me up.”

Tim paused for a moment, stuck between his need to disagree with Damian and the need to get out of Dick’s crazy plan. Unfortunately for Damian, the former won out. “Actually, you know what, a show could be fun. The episodes are what, thirty minutes? Shorter than Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones.”

Damian groaned while Dick responded happily, ignoring his brother’s distress, “Around twenty minutes actually. We could have the whole show finished in about a week or so.”

Damian turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Marinette, please tell me you are on my side?”

She patted her boyfriend’s arm, “Sorry, mon amour, I’m stuck either way. Might as well watch a show.”

Damian flopped against the couch with a pout. “Betrayed. I have been grievously betrayed by my own brothers and girlfriend. What is this world coming to?”

“Woo!” exclaimed Dick, a wide grin splitting his face. “This is going to be great.”

“This is going to be awful,” moaned Damian.

-0-0-

It took a bit of convincing on the part of Dick to get Bruce and Alfred to agree to the venture. Marinette, after learning the full details of the last two Family T.V. Events, was wholly unsurprised. She also did not know the full extent of what Dick did to get Jason to agree (apparently, he and Bruce were fighting, again, so this was expected.) although it probably involved a bribe. But by the week’s end, the entire family was together, all under strict orders (and puppy-dog eyes from Dick) to be on their best behavior.

Which, without a doubt, not a single one of them knew what that entailed.

The arguing started with seating placement, then about who controlled the remote, then over the distribution of snacks, drinks, blankets, and pillows. At one point Jason pulled a knife, which prompted Damian to pull his knife, suddenly Cass had two shurikens visible (where she even kept them while wearing a tank top and shorts, no one could say), and then everyone was yelling with sharp pointy objects in hand.

Once the argument was firmly under control, Alfred collected the weapons and placed them in a wicker basket, along with all the mobile devices, until the episodes for the night were finished. The only one allowed to have a phone was Barbara who was in charge of checking police scanners for any major trouble while the family took the evening off.

Marinette seated herself curled up against Damian on the edge of the couch. She set her foot propped up on an ottoman so it wouldn’t get jostled, and she could continue to ice it throughout the evening. Damian secured their own bowl of popcorn, so they didn’t have to share it with the others.

“Alright, here’s how we’re breaking this down,” announced Dick, who won the battle for the remote, and therefore the episode schedule. “The episodes are short, at least, much shorter than the last show we watched.” He directed a pointed look at Jason.

“I make no apologies.”

“We’ll watch half a season a day, ten episodes apiece. The closed captions will be on but try to keep the chatter to a minimum.” Marinette held back a laugh. Damian explained no one kept quiet during these nights. Watching the show wasn’t the point of these events; if that were the case then they would just watch it all on their own time. The point was the time spent together. This is why even Bruce, emotionally constipated and single-minded in his pursuits as he was, put away the suit for a few days to watch T.V. with the rest of his collected family. Talking was expected.

“We will, if you will,” called Stephanie.

“I take offense to that.”

“Aw just sit Dickie, let’s watch the show,” exclaimed Jason.

“Yes, Grayson you already wrapped us into this pointless venture; we might as well get it over with,” Damian grumbled. Marinette found his hand in the folds of their shared blanket and laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and, when he was sure no one else was looking gave her a small smile. Marinette smiled back, he pretended to be such a grouch, but deep down he was a giant softy at heart.

Dick frowned, saying “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be spoilsports about it.” And pointed the remote at the T.V. starting the first episode.

-0-0-

It didn’t take ten seconds before the commentary began.

“Four elements?” exclaimed Tim. “Are you serious? I could name at least a dozen off the top of my head. How are there only four nations? 0/10 completely unrealistic. Political infighting alone-”

“Ah, shut up, replacement.”

“Ruthless fire nation?” said Stephanie. “Methinks a little propaganda might be occurring here.”

“A hundred years!? What, has no one competent been born the entire time?”

Marinette shrugged. “The disadvantages of finite magic systems, Dami. It's learned indifference.”

“Honey, after a hundred years that’s not hoping, that’s naivety,” said Stephanie in response to Katara’s impassioned speech.

“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.

“We know that, but she doesn’t.”

The show moved on to Katara and Sokka in a boat. Sokka held a spear above the water.

“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.

“Ah yeah, I forgot you may hate the entirety of Sokka’s character,” said Dick with a grimace. “Whoops.”

“She’s not very good at the water moving, is she?” asked Marinette

“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.

Sokka chided Katara about her weird water magic. “Oh, he’s not going to be a dick for the whole show, is he?” asked Steph.

“He gets better.”

“They grew up here right?” asked Damian, as Katara and Sokka become caught in a rapid. “How did they not anticipate an event like this.”

“I knew I should have left you at home. Leave it to a girl to screw things up!”

“HEY!” shouted all the women in the room.

They watched as Katara’s fury built and broke the iceberg behind her.

“Good. Use anger, anger is alright,” Cass commented for the first time.

“Okay, you’ve gone from weird, to freakish.”

“This punk is just asking for a beating isn’t he,” growled Jason.

The beam of energy shot into the air after Katara and Sokka broke open the ice. “That’s not going to cause any trouble,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Nope, not suspicious or completely conspicuous at all.”

The scene switches to a metal ship.

“Finally! Uncle, do you realize what this means?”

“Oh, look, the bad guys,” deadpanned Tim. “I was right.”

Jason grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth “What happened to his fucked-up fa-”

“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”

The scene switched back to Katara and Sokka. The figure is revealed to be a hyperactive little kid.

Damian frowned“Oh, I won’t like him either, will I Grayson?”

Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”

Then Appa is introduced.

“Father, could we-”

“No, Damian.”

They watched the children depart, and the scene moved back to the Fire Nation ship.

“Even if you're right, and the Avatar is alive, you won't find him. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all tried and failed.”

“Well considering the Airbender child has been in an iceberg, it’s not surprising they failed.”

“Because their honor didn't hinge on the Avatar's capture. Mine does. This coward's hundred years in hiding are over.”

“Is it just me or does this angry, emo prince remind anyone of demon spawn?”

“Todd, shut your mouth before I remove your tongue.”

Marinette leaned in close, “Maybe just a little like you.” Damian looked at her with a betrayed pout.

The scene switched and they watched Aang lie to Katara about the Avatar.

“The air child is guilty. Will cause problems later.”

“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”

Damian scoffed. “Miscommunication is plot convenience, and it’s a sloppy one at that.”

They watched Aang’s dream of how he ended up in the iceberg, him waking up to Katara and his introduction to the village.

“Well, no one has seen an Airbender in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”

“Extinct?”

“He went into the ice and woke up to find the world different. Anyone getting serious Captain America vibes here?” said Jason, tone-deaf to the clear horror on Aang's face.

“Jason, he just found out his people potentially went extinct!” chided Marinette.

“It's not for stabbing! It's for air bending.”

“Please tell me the main character is not a pacifist,” begged Damian.

“Well, he is a monk,” said Barbara with a sorry look.

“I sense he's filled with much wisdom,” Katara says as Aang sticks his tongue to his staff and it freezes.

“I switch back and forth between liking this girl and not. One second she’s got gumption, and the next she’s all starry-eyed and naïve,” grumbled Steph.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Damian whispered into Marinette’s ear. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"I'm not naive," she shot back.

He raised a hand with two fingers close but not touching, "You're a little naive." Marinette huffed, but silently admitted to her boyfriend's point. She had a tendency to believe the best in people; she saw it as a strength and appreciated it in this Katara character, but it was so far from how Damian viewed the world, it honestly confused his siblings when they first started dating.

Damian confided in her that he found it inspiring. She had been through so much, understood the cruelties of others, and still could see the good in people.

The scene switched to the Fire Nation ship again, and Iroh explained the concept of firebending to an irate Prince Zuko.

“Finally, a display of actual competence,” exclaimed Damian.

“Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set! I'm more than ready!”

“My tutors would have skewered me if I dared to act in such a manner,” he commented again, softer than the first time. More so that only Marinette could hear. Damian’s family was more than aware of his childhood and what it entailed; Marinette slowly learned with comments like this. She squeezed his hand again and received a small smile.

The scene shifted back to the village where Sokka’s failed “warrior lesson” occurred, and then-

“We don't have time for fun and games with the War going on!”

“What war? What are you talking about?”

“Where have you been, frozen in ice for a hundred years?” joked Dick.

They watched Aang offer to take Katara to the North Pole to find a water bending master. The two children go and play with the penguin creatures, but the tone shifted when an old Fire Nation ship appeared on the screen.

“Bad ship” muttered Cass.

“If you want to be a bender, you have to let go of fear.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start,” said Tim.

They watch Aang and Katara enter the Fire Nation Ship and wander talking about the war.

“Aang, how long were you in that iceberg?”

“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”

“I think it was more like a hundred years!”

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Jason. “How are they just figuring this out now?”

On-screen Aang stepped on the line of wire, tripping the traps.

“Tt. Amateurs.”

"See, she told him it would be a bad idea!"

A flare rises through the air.

“That’s not going to cause any-”

“Oh, shut up Tim.”

The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.

“The last Airbender!”

“I was right,” he mumbled.

The screen faded to the credits, and Dick turned to the group.

“So? What do you think?”

“Slow.”

“Nobody has any sense.”

“Are any of the characters actually likable?”

He frowned. “Okay, okay, so the first episode isn’t the best. I swear it gets better. Back me up here Barb.”

Barbara nodded. “He’s right, it takes a few episodes to build the characters up and we see some genuine action. But by mid-season, I swear you’ll be hooked. And then we’ll get to season two and the best characters will arrive.”

“Hey,” Dick exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “No spoilers.”

“I thought it was fun,” Marinette offered. “It’s very clearly a kid’s show, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She wasn’t going to say each and every person in the room had childhood traumas, and a show full of lighthearted fun was probably just what they needed. She could think it, but she wouldn’t say it.

“Thank you, Marinette,” said Dick with a smile.

“I rather enjoyed the elderly tea drinker,” intoned Alfred. “He’s more than he appears to be.”

“Uncle Iroh? Yeah, he’s the best!” commented Barbara. "But everyone is great."

“Alright, episode one finished, nine more to go.”

“Let’s hope it’s more enjoyable than the last,” uttered Damian, a chorus of agreement followed his statement, but when the show started up everyone grew quiet again.

Marinette was sure whatever happened next, it was bound to be interesting.

Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too)

@m3owww @your-resident-chimken-nuggie @loveswifi @fusser90@animegirlweeb @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere

#damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #damimari #mlb crossover #ml x dc #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne #moodboard #damientte #damianette #marinnette dupain cheng x damian wayne #mlb x dc #characters watch the show #maribat watching atla

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aquariuscurly94 · 3 years ago

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Another Favor

Summary: Damian asks Raven for another favor. During this favor he slowly realizes as to why he had trusted her to do this. Sequel to Simple Favor.

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the DC universe. Just the plot!!

AN: I am back with the long waited sequel to Simple Favor lol. HAHA hope you guys enjoy reading this!!!

All Damian Wayne wanted was sleep. It has been a rough couple weeks since the fundraiser event and he has been going back and forth between Jump City and Gotham City. He does not get enough sleep like a regular person should, but when he does have a chance to rest his emerald eyes, he made sure to take full advantage.

“Wakey, wakey, little D.” Came an all too familiar annoying voice on the other side of the door. Damian paid no mind to that infuriating muffled voice as he turned over on his right side, concentrating on going back to a dreamless slumber in hopes that he would disappear. He will take advantage of a much-needed sleep. “Wake up, Dami. I know that you can hear me. Everyone is downstairs for breakfast. You got five minutes.”

Damian sighed and waited until he hears footsteps walking down the hall before opening his eyes. He swung his legs over on the bed as he reached over to grab a folded black shirt that was next to him in a dresser and grabbed a pair of jeans that was next to other folded shirts before making his way down the massive staircase that would lead them to the grand dining room of the Manor. He slowed down his steps when he hears low chatter the more he walked closer.

“Where is that big dog that would be around Damian?” Tim asked when Damian entered the dining room.

Damian scoffed at him when he had pulled out a chair to sit next to Dick Grayson that had woke him up earlier. “He’s at the Tower with the others. His name is Titus by the way. Not that hard of a name to remember Drake,” he smirked when the unmasked Red Robin shot him a glare.

“It is too early in the morning for having unnecessary spats Master Damian. This is a celebration breakfast after all.” The family butler Alfred Pennyworth said, walking by him to place his plate in front of him.

Damian lifted a brow and looked over at his father who was sitting at the head of the table with Selina Kyle by his side. “Thank you, Pennyworth. What kind of celebration, father?”

“I just received the reports from the fundraiser event that you and Tim had hosted,” Bruce explained, wiping his mouth with a napkin after taking a bite from his scramble eggs that Alfred had cooked, “I am impressed with how well you two had worked together. Even the company agrees.”

Damian smirked in triumph, and he glanced over at the unmasked Red Robin that was sitting across from him, “does that mean that Drake and I will be doing more things with the company?” he asked, sounding hopeful that his father was starting to trust him and Drake to help with Wayne Enterprises.

“Perhaps one day. For now, you two will be hosting more galas and fundraisers to start with,” Bruce told him, watching as his son sighing heavily. Well, at least he knows how he had felt about that. He turned his attention towards the former third Robin, quirking up a brow at him. “Tim?”

Tim cleared his throat at the Dark Knight’s stare. “Thank you for allowing us to have this opportunity and for trusting us.”

“Wasn’t there something else that you need to mention Bruce?” Dick chimed in, smirking as he took a sip of his coffee and Damian looked at him quizzingly, wondering what the heck he was talking about and why he has a smirk on his face.

“Thank you for reminding me, Dick. I was however hoping that Damian would bring it up himself,” Bruce said, folding his hands together on the table and leaned his chin on top of his knuckles.

Damian could feel all eyes on him, and he had absolutely no clue as to why they were talking about. He tilted his head to the side as he folded his arms across his chest, “mention what? I have no idea as to what you are referring to. Care to explain?” he asked. In all honesty he has no idea as to what everyone was talking about. “Drake?” he asked, hoping that he would know what was going on. He frowned when Time didn’t say anything but instead avoided his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I am sure that there were reasons why he didn’t say anything to any of us,” Selina Kyle said with small sigh, sending a small smile towards Damian across from her.

“Tell any of you what exactly?” Damian asked, breathing through his nose as his patience started to wear thin. He looked at each pair of eyes before he looked at his father’s ocean ones from the head of the table. “Father, what is going on?”

Instead of answering his son’s question, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and slide it across the table and Damian easily caught it with his hand. He pressed a button on the screen and in bold letters came an interesting title that was written by none other than Lois Lane from the Daily Planet.

New Romance for Damian Wayne The Son of Billionaire Bruce Wayne?

Damian kept his face completely emotionless as he continues to read the article that was written by the raven-haired reporter. Near the bottom of the article was a picture of him and Raven dancing. It showed him smiling as he looked into Raven’s amethyst eyes. Damian knows that it’s rare for him to smile but knew there’s only a few people that manage to bring it out of him and one of them happens to be Raven.

He scoffed as he pushed the phone back over to his father and crossed his arms. “What of it?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

“That girl that you had mentioned before…It was Raven the entire time, wasn’t it?” Bruce asked him. “I didn’t realize that you two were a couple,” he continued, leaning back in his chair.

Damian narrowed his eyes at him. “It’s recent,” he lied smoothly in a low voice. “It is none of your business.”

Bruce frown at his son’s response but wasn’t surprised by it. When he had first met the quiet and powerful empath, he was under the impression that she was the enemy at the time when she had first come to Jump City when her father tried to destroy Earth and had tried to take her away from the Titans with his fellow Justice League members.

Bruce drummed his fingers lightly on the dark wood of the table as he continued to stare at the teen hero. He turned his attention towards his former enemy and wife that was sitting next to him and smiled at her when she raised a delicate brow at him, “I’ve been meaning to mention this Selina,” he said lightly. “There is a new Italian restaurant that had just opened, and the owner had invited us to have dinner before the grand opening. Are you free this evening?”

Damian watched his father from across the table, frowning when his stepmother cocked her head to the side, “I believe that I am free this evening my love. Will it be just the two of us?” she asked innocently.

Damian crossed his arms when his father turned to look at him and he knew that there was a chance that he was planning something when he could’ve sworn he saw a glint in his blue eyes. “The owner extended the invitation to four people, and I understand that both Dick and Tim have plans with their significant others. Perhaps Damian and Raven could join us if they don’t have any plans?”

Damian balled his hand into a fist when his suspicions were correct that his father were in fact planning something. He could feel everyone staring at him, waiting for his response and he heavily sighed as he came up with a plan of his own as he remembered Raven’s words from before the last time they had seen each other. “I’ll ask her if she’s available, father.”

Bruce smiled at his son and nodded his head. “Excellent. Now, let us enjoy the rest of our breakfast.”

Damian’s fingers fiddled at the call button that was attached to Raven’s name as he leaned back causally against the headboard of his neatly made bed, wondering why he was feeling anxious about asking her for another favor.

It’s just another favor correct? There shouldn’t even be a reason as to why he was getting anxious about asking her to join him for dinner with his father and his stepmother.

He was about to press the button when a soft knock interrupted him which made him huff when he got up from the bed to answer the door to reveal a smiling Dick Grayson staring down at him. “Hey, baby bird. Whatcha doin’?”

“I was going to make a call before you rudely interrupted,” Damian responded with a hint of annoyance in his voice, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

Dick chuckled at his little brother as he combed his dark hair with his fingers. “Just wanted to say that I am happy for you. It’s about time that you two birds got together. Was starting to lose hope,” he teased with a huge grin on face.

Damian growled at him. “Can you leave. Please,” he managed to say through grounded teeth, narrowing his green orbs at the older man in front him.

Dick sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, okay just having a little fun. Enjoy your little phone call,” he winked at the younger Robin before turning around to head back down the stairs and Damian could hear him chuckling.

Damian muttered a few curses in his native tongue as he closed the door with a soft click with every strength in his body to not slam it sighing as he used a finger to press the call button to call the quiet empath. He walked back over to his bed and sat at the edge of it as he listened to the phone ringing in his ear.

“Hello Damian.”

The sound of her smooth voice made his head perked up and it made him clear his throat before he spoke. “Hello, Raven.”

“Is everything alright?” Raven asked, her voice full of concern on the other end of the phone.

Damian sighed heavily through his nose. “I need another favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

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

Damian leaned back casually against the red brick wall as he watches countless of people walking by him, waiting for the purple haired empath to arrive at the restaurant. His father and stepmother were already sitting on the rooftop, chatting quietly among themselves even though he knows that they were watching his every move.

He completely ignored looks women his age was giving him as they were walking by, rolling his emeralds when they had laughed off his inherited glare he shot at them. His head perked up when a yellow taxi rolled in front him and a door opened, revealing Raven stepping out.

Damian acted quickly and walked over towards her and held out a hand for her to take it. “I know how to get out of a taxi Boy Wonder,” she said with a shake of her head, closing the taxi door behind her with her free hand.

Damian scoffed at her and leaned in close to her ear and used a hand to push back a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “We have an audience on the roof.”

Raven looked at him quizzically before following his gaze to see Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle looking down on them with a smile on each of their faces. “Right,” she said, biting her lip as she looked down at herself and her blue jean skirt and white blouse. “Is the outfit—”

“You look lovely, Raven,” Damian quickly interrupted, giving her a smile when she had blushed. “Let us head inside, shall we?” he asked, looking at the intertwined hands in front of him before gently pulling her close next to him, “thank you for doing this,” he said softly as the two head inside the Italian restaurant.

“I told you before Damian,” Raven said quietly as they walked up the steps towards the roof, being careful not to trip over her feet as she walked. “I am happy to do this anytime.”

Damian smirked at her as he carefully guided her with his hand in hers towards the table where his father and stepmother were waiting for them with polite smiles on their faces. He studied his father for any hint of disapproval as they approached the table, frowning when he couldn’t find any.

He walked over to one of the two chairs that was across from his father and stepmother. He pulled out a chair like a gentleman exactly how his father had taught him. His green gaze never left his father’s blue ones when Raven sat down and he had pushed the chair closer to the table.

“Thank you,” Raven said, looking over to her right when Damian took his seat next to her. Damian nodded in response and Raven looked around at buildings of Gotham City and the hustle and bustle that was going on below them. “It does have a nice view of the city don’t you think?” she asked no one in particular as she picked up the menu.

“Indeed, it does,” Bruce said in agreement as he turned around slightly. “The owner picked the right spot for this restaurant,” he said, smiling at her. “So, Raven,” he started but stopped himself when he felt Selina’s hand touching his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Remember what we talked about?” Selina asked him, lifting a neat brow at him. Her catlike eyes glanced slightly over to the young couple briefly before looking back into his azure ones.

Bruce sighed heavily and nodded at his wife. He cleared his throat before turning his gaze over to the empath that was reading the menu. “Raven, it has been quite some time since we had last saw each other hasn’t it?” he asked her, ignoring a annoyed look that Damian was giving him.

Raven closed the menu after deciding on what she would like to order and smiled at him. She could sense a hint of curiosity that was coming from him. “It sure has,” she said, reaching out a hand to tuck a loose strand of her purple hair behind her ear. “It’s good to see you again. You too Selina,” she added, smiling at them both.

“Can we order our food?” Damian asked, scowling at his father, wondering what kind of mind tricks he was playing at with his girlfriend. He shook his head at the word, knowing that he meant fake girlfriend and not his real girlfriend.

“Of course, son,” Bruce said, using a hand to signal down a waiter that was by them. “Ladies first,” he said, smiling at Selina and she rolled her eyes as she told the waiter what she had wanted.

“What can I get you?” The waiter asked as he came around over to Raven and Damian with a notepad and pen in his hand, smiling kindly at them.

“I’ll have the sundried tomato and artichoke ditalini,” Raven said, handing the menu over to the waiter after he had written it down quickly as she spoke. “What are you getting, Dami?” she asked, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing when Damian gave her a look at the nickname that his elder brother would use.

“I’ll have the vegan vodka pasta,” Damian said, handing the menu over to the waiter that nodded at his choice.

“Excellent choices everyone. I’ll be sure to give this to the kitchen.”

Bruce waited until the waiter was out of hearing range before he picked up his wine glass to take a small sip from it, studying his youngest son and his girlfriend. “Does the team know?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I’m sure they know now thanks to that article,” Damian told him, folding his arms over his chest.

“It won’t distract us on missions if that is what you are worried about,” Raven cut in, shivering at the mixed emotions that was feeling from both Damian and Bruce. “You guys need to calm down,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Damian. She sighed when she could feel them calming down.

“I apologize, Raven,” Damian said to her, leaning over without thinking and kissed her on the lips quickly, causing Raven’s face to heat up.

Bruce cleared his throat and the two young birds looked over at him with wide eyes. “I must apologize as well. I completely forgotten at how powerful you can be,” he confessed, sighing deeply. “However, I do have concerns about your…. coupling,” he told them.

Damian narrowed his eyes at his father. “You shouldn’t have any concerns. We are together and that’s all there is to it.”

“Food is here,” Selina said, interrupting the conversation that could’ve potentially turned into a heated argument. She shook her head as she watched the server and the waiter came outside with their plates of food, thanking them silently at their interruption. “Shall we enjoy our meal and perhaps have a normal conversation?” she asked the brooding man next to her, staring him down to get his attention.

“I’ll drop this conversation. For now.” Bruce told everyone even though he was directly looking into his son’s heated green gaze, “let us enjoy this amazing meal,” he said with finality.

After the awkward conversation about Damian and Raven, the four of them had changed the subject to something lighter. They each had enjoyed their meal. Bruce even talked to the chef that had made the meal and gave him a huge tip.

Damian rolled his eyes as he watched his father and stepmother talking to the owner himself. The owner was thanking his father over and over for coming to his restaurant before the grand opening.

Damian knew that the dinner could’ve done better if it wasn’t for his father questioning of his relationship with Raven. Even if it was a fake one, it annoyed him to his core. He doesn’t understand as to why it had bothered him so much. It felt as though his father didn’t fully trust Raven yet.

He knows that she had proven herself to be worthy on the team. She’s strong, powerful, brilliant, and hard working. Not to mention she’s also the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Wait, did he just say beautiful?

“Are you alright? You looked like you were deep in thought,” Raven said to him, invading his thoughts. She leaned in closer to his ear, making sure to place her hand onto his shoulder. “Just a few more minutes then we can go back to normal,” she told him in a soft whisper.

Damian chuckled at her. He sighed when he saw his father and Selina walking over towards them. He reached out to grab her hand tightly in his and brought her closer to his side. “Thank you for doing this. You have no idea—”

Raven stopped him from talking by placing her index finger onto his lips. “I know. Truly I do,” she told him with a soft smile.

“Will you two be riding with us? Alfred should be here any second.” Bruce said, walking over towards them with Selina close behind him.

“I have another form of transportation, Mister Wayne. If you don’t mind.” Raven responded and Bruce nodded at her. “Dinner was rather…. interesting. I hope we can do this again.”

“Perhaps soon we can all have dinner at the Manor,” Bruce suggested, looking briefly at his wife who nodded in agreement. “We can have better conversations there.”

Raven and Damian looked at each other. Damian sighed at the Dark Knight. “Perhaps soon, father.”

Just then, a slick black limo pulled up next to them on the curb, causing everyone to look over when the elder butler came out and held a car door open for them. “How was dinner everyone?” he asked them, placing an arm around his back.

“It was quite lovely, Alfred,” Selina said as she went inside the limo. Bruce followed behind him inside the black limo.

Damian turned towards the quiet empath next to him. He leaned in closer to kiss her on the cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride with us? I could convince father to let you stay in one of the many guest rooms we have.”

Raven shook her head at him. “I better get back to the Tower. Pretty sure the others will have some…. questions for me,” she told him, rolling her eyes. “See you soon.”

They said their goodbyes and Damian watched Raven looking around to make sure that the coast was clear before making a dark portal to disappear into. Damian sighed as he climbed inside the limo and leaned back against the seat when Alfred started to drive them back to the Manor.

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

Hours later, Damian found himself laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling and he thought about the dinner. He knew that they had fitted well together and that was why he wanted her as his fake girlfriend.

He kept replaying of how he leaned in to kiss her on the lips without thinking and he wonders why on Earth would he do that. He wanted to play the part that was true, but he wonders could it be something deeper than that. His heart fluttered at the thought. Could it be that perhaps he could actually truly like Raven for real?

Damian reached over to grab his phone to send a text to Raven, thanking her once again for doing this for him.

Seconds later he got a response from her. Let me know the next time you need me to be your girlfriend again.

Damian snorted at her response. I’ll keep that in mind.

It’s official, Damian likes Raven Roth.

For real this time.

#fake dating #Pre-DemiRae #Damian Wayne #Raven Roth #dcmultiverse #teen titans fanfiction #PR Stunt #damian wayne #raven x damian

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vastanxc · 4 years ago

Text

03:00 am

Three o'clock in the morning was when the magician, now in her own apartment, walked to the kitchen to make a cup of tea so she could sleep. She had become independent from the Titans once she was of legal age. It was a small but comfortable apartment that paid the league for her services and she was happy about it. She liked to be independent... be alone.

- Nice place.... but haven’t you thought of a change of color?

She did not turn to see the man. By now the voices of Gotham's family were already very familiar to her. As with that strange habit of appearing out of nowhere.

- You all say Damian is the rudest, but he always knocks on the door before entering a house.

- The spawn knocks "your" door, devil. Besides, you must thank me that I am not Bruce. That pervert would stare at you until you woke up.

By the time she turns. She saw Jason sitting on the sofa, reading one of her magic books with his legs on the coffee table.

- “Great book of magic” my ass... where is the trick of how to get a rabbit out of a hat?

- Page 134.

Jason look at her for a few seconds and look for page 134... just to find the trick he had said.

- Well... I’ll be damn.

Raven tried some of her tea and sat down at the kitchen table.

- Why are you visiting me at this hour?

The lonely member of Batman's family got up and walked to the table and sat in front of her.

- I have a problem with magical things... and I wanted to use the bathroom.

- What happened?

- I ate a bean burrito and it sat me wrong.

Raven sighed and thought that Damian was right, sometimes.

- I mean the magic, Jason.

Jason took some pictures of his jacket and showed them to the magician to see.

- Where did you see these symbols?

- I found them under Arkham, in the sewers.

- What did you find?

- An Alf doll that was missing his head.

- ...

- Oh, and a plumbing system that connects to the asylum morgue. It seems that the new warden does not like to point out that his patients are dying, and to cover it up. Throw the bodies in the sewers of the city.

Raven was left thinking about what she had heard and tried to relate it to the symbols in the photos.

- Any ideas?

- I know the brand. It's from a cult that worships a demon who wears mortal skins to enter the mortal plane.

- That's beautiful.

- I presume that the warden is a member of the cult and marks them so that some member collects the bodies once they are in the sewers.

- Sounds crazy... chances are you're right.

He said while removing the photos.

- Do you want something to drink?

- Aren't you going to kick me out of your house?

- Why would I do that?

- It's 3 a.m.

- You are like this, there is not much to do about that. Would you like some coffee?

- Sure... Ok.

Raven, with her powers, lit the coffee maker to make a cup for her visit.

- Can I ask you a question?

- I will not change the paint on my walls.

- Okay... can I ask you another question?

- What do you want to know?

- How come the spawn hasn't woken up and isn’t attacking me with his toy sword?

- He’s sleeping.

- I ask again How come the spawn hasn't woken up and isn’t attacking me with his toy sword?

- ...

- Was the session in bed too rude?

- You're all idiots... everyone bothers us with that.

- Did you force him to dress up as an Arab dancer to move his hips?

- I PUT A SPELL ON HIM!

Jason was silent for a few seconds and then said.

- The pot broke. Your carnations are going to die.

- Yes, I've noticed...

Again, with his magic. Raven cleaned everything and served the cup of coffee to her disrespectful guest.

- Thank you.

- He hadn't slept in almost five days. But when I got to locate the smugglers, he wanted to go get them, but I didn't allow it. I slept him with a spell, sent the data to Mr. Pennyworth and told him about Damian…

- Mmmm...I see.

- Yes... I don't like to do it, but sometimes it's the only option I have.

- Don't blame yourself. Alfred does the same with Bruce... although shooting a dart at the old man is a little exaggerated.

Raven laughed a little for what he had said, and they continued in silence.

- Are you and the spawn going seriously?

- He proposed to me a few days ago.

- Wow... did he bring you someone's head in sign of their eternal love?

- He gave me a ring, Jason. Just like any man does.

- Well you can't blame me. Just because he got quieter, doesn't mean he got normal... marriage?

She nodded

- That boy doesn't give a shit... does that mean you're going to lay eggs some of these days?

Something else was heard breaking and Jason said.

- Oh... poor camellias. Who will have water that satiate their thirst for life?

- Mr. Pennyworth told me that of all the Robins, your talent for humor was only comparable to your insolence.

She said as she again cleaned up the mess she had made.

- Alfred knows about his Robins.

- We plan to have a family... we've talked about it.

- That's good. More than for you for Alfred and Bruce. Alfred has always wanted the Wayne family to continue and Bruce… That idiot needs to be a grandfather. It would be the only normal thing he could have. Even Damian wasn't normal.

- I have been told stories of Talia…

- Yes... the Al Ghul...

- What about you??

- Me what?

- Do you have anyone to introduce us for Christmas dinner?

- No... it's not my style.

- Oh, come on Jason. I've seen you and Barbara. Why don't you try?

- No... I'm very fond of Barbara… enough not to screw up her life.

Raven did not expect that answer from the masked young man. He took her by surprise and preferred not to continue with the subject.

- It would also be very uncomfortable to bring some of my "couples"

- I don't think it's that bad...…

- I've been with all the girls on the team, Raven.

Raven was frozen in the face of confession.

- ... ¿Kori?...

- Yes... ooooh yes... The red one is one of my top 10.

- Are you kidding me?!

- No, I have the burns to prove it.

The girl covered her mouth in surprise from what she had heard.

- How could you?

- Have you seen her naked? She is hotter than my motorcycle ... and I love my motorcycle!

- But Richard...

- He doesn't know... and that guy doesn't have a face to criticize Kori at all...

- Who else?

- Well... I had a rub with Stephanie...

- ...

- And the spawn's mom.

- You're crazy. Did you know that? Totally mental.

Said the magician, incredulous of what she heard.

- If Damian finds out about this...

- He knows

- WHAT?

- The remote control broke... my condolences.

- WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE KNOWS?

- I told him once.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

- I slept with your mom.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

- What did he tell you?

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

- You didn't sleep with her. She used you. I saw my mother use men and women as sex toys several times to make up for my father's absence. So, don't brag about it... you were nothing but a talking dildo.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

- ...

- To tell you the truth, it is one of the kindest things he has ever told me.

- …

- Ok... Well, I have to go. I have to find a cult leader and blow his brains off. Thank you for the coffee and introspection of my sentimental life. I'll make an appointment for next week. See ya…

He said as he wentout, throwing himself out the window.

- The inability to use a door...

She said the magician turning off the lights to go back to her bed next to the young man who had been sleeping all this time. Before putting himself back next to him, she stroked the young man's hair with his hand and smiled.

- I can't believe you're the most normal.

#Damian Wayne #raven #damirae #damian x raven #damian raven

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ao3feed-izuku-midoriya · 4 years ago

Text

Blackbird

Blackbird by Hatzui

Twelve-year-old Midoriya Izuku disappeared after getting affected by an unknown quirk. Musutafu looked for the missing kid for an entire week, but to no avail, Midoriya was gone and had left no trail behind. Until he appeared on his bed one night, as if nothing had happened, with no memory of the time he was lost. Or that is what people were left to believe because Izuku remembers everything. He remembers being a toddler again, alone in the dirty streets of Gotham. He remembers he Graysons, the couple who gave one look at the scared child lost in the labyrinth of alleyways not speaking a drop of English and immediately took him in if only so he could have a warm place to sleep until his "real" parents arrived. The Graysons named him Richard and taught him how to fly. He remembers watching his parents fall. He remembers flying again. Izuku knows everyone is dead now. Is up to him to let the name Robin live. OR Izuku was sent to the past, became a famous vigilante, and now spends his days being an edgy teen too smart for his own good. Thank god Aizawa has migraine medicine and a heart full of patience for (1) Problem child

Words: 2047, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Other

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku's Family, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Tsukauchi Naomasa, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Justice League (DCU), Class 1-A, Class 1-B, Shinsou Hitoshi, Hatsume Mei

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Bruce Wayne, Midoriya Izuku & Alfred Pennyworth, Midoriya Izuku & Tsukauchi Naomasa, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic

Additional Tags: Time Travel, metioned, Dick Grayson is Robin, Midoriya Izuku is Dick Grayson, Traumatized Midoriya Izuku, PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Dadzawa - An Aizawa Shota Zine, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midorya Inko bad parenting, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku is a Little Shit, I love my gremling child, Himiko Toga has Joker vibes, Im using them, Vigilante Dabi, Dabi | Todoroki Touya is Not a Villain, Dabi is a Todoroki, Aizawa needs coffe, GIVEDADZAWAMORECOFFEE2021, aizawa is not paid enough for this, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Midoriya Izuku is a Dork, Genius Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Adopts Shinsou Hitoshi, Secrets, Secret Identity, Poor Midoriya Izuku, The Author Regrets Nothing, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I Edited This Instead of Sleeping, I Will Go Down With This Ship, The author needs more caffein, How Do I Tag, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Slight OOC, sometimes, stan fanon batfam, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Protective Midoriya Izuku, Married Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Protective Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, BAMF Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30475455

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Izuku #♢#Izuku Midoriya #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Erasermic·#R:T #A:Hatzui #Vigilante AU #Quirkless AU #Dadzawa #Crossover #God AU #Time Travel #Mental Illness

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ao3feed-dadzawa · 4 years ago

Text

Blackbird

Blackbird by Hatzui

Words: 2047, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Other

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30475455

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Dadzawa #♥#Erasermic #Izuku Midoriya #Bruce Wayne #R:T #A:Hatzui #Vigilante AU #Quirkless AU #Dadzawa #Crossover #God AU #Time Travel #Mental Illness

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lookforanewangle · 4 years ago

Text

and we’ll be carrying each other (until our dying day) || batfam || 2.9k; part 2 of 2 || part one dick comes back to visit after his time with spyral, and spends patrol with damian. things don’t quite go as planned. || ao3

ch 2: time means nothing (say that you’ll stay)

A shower and a quick medical patch up later finds Damian and Jason up in the rafters, just like Jason had promised. Damian’s head is throbbing, pulsing with every beat of his heart and every pound is like a hammer against his skull, but he does not say a word. Jason would take him upstairs like Father had wanted, and Damian refuses to leave the cave

He will not leave until he can ensure that Grayson will survive.

Of course he will survive, his mind snarls. If he does not…

He will, he insists. He’ll make it. Damian does not want to think of what would happen, or what he would do, if Richard did not.

The two of them are quiet as they perch in the shadows, not wanting to tip off Father or interfere with the situation below, regardless of how much Damian wants to be by Richard’s side. You’ll just be in the way, Todd had insisted. Damian scowls at the thought. He knows how to maintain a necessary distance during medical treatments, and he would not ever impede on the operation below. He shifts, impatient. Father would be furious at both of them, especially Damian, but if he could just—

“Don’t even think about it, Baby Bat,” Todd says calmly, cleaning beneath his nails with the tip of his dagger. Damian’s eyebrows furrow further.

“I was not going to—”

“You were, and that’s not gonna fly,” he interrupts, catching Damian’s gaze and cocking an eyebrow.

Try me.

“Stay out of their way, they’ll finish up faster. Faster they’re done, the sooner you can check on Goldie.”

Damian crosses his arms tightly against his chest and ducks his head away, his eyes burning in frustration. Jason is right of course, but Damian refuses to voice his concession.

They wait.

Nearly an hour later, the frantic energy of the med bay dies down. Damian straightens in his perch, stretching out the muscles that have gone stiff in his back and legs. His headache has not subsided, but he ignores it for now. He will ask Pennyworth for painkillers if it continues to persist after he has checked on Richard.

Beside him, Jason tucks his blade back into its sheath and shifts into a crouch on the support beam, watching the scene below with bored interest. Pennyworth is beginning to sanitize medical equipment at the sink, and Dr. Thompkins scrubs out, packing up her medical bag and speaking softly to Father. As she strides towards the elevator, Father looks up at the both of them, and Damian freezes.

Father's eyes narrow at the two of them. He points sternly at them, and then to the ground in front of him. Come here. Now.

Damian glowers at their discovery. Todd, on the other hand, has the audacity to wave back at him down below.

"Mornin', Boss," he calls down with a lazy grin.

"Hrn," Father replies, mouth pressed into a thin line. "Get down here, both of you."

“I don’t follow your orders anymore, B,” Todd shouts back. Despite his call, he pulls a wire from his belt, secures it, and swings down to drop heavily to the cave floor. Damian watches him go in confusion before following. Father stares them down sternly as they approach.

Damian follows Todd, his steps hesitant and his eyes shifting anxiously between Father and the gurney across the bay. Richard’s chest is moving and Father is not very upset or in a panic, so why won’t Damian’s heart stop racing? His fingers tremble and he clenches them into fists, tucking them beneath his arms that he crosses again over his chest in defense. Mother would have never allowed such a show of discomfort, but Damian has learned differently here. Shows of emotion were encouraged by Richard, by Pennyworth and Brown, and occasionally by Father. Despite all of this, his cheeks still flush in discomfort at the motion. He unfolds himself as he comes to a stop feet away from his father. He hears the man take a deep, controlled breath, and Father's attention shifts back to his two sons in front of him. He eyes Jason first, skin around his eyes tight in frustration and something else that Damian can't put a name to.

This...this tentative peace between Father and Todd is so new, and so fresh, and still so strained as they find their footing, that all Damian can do is sit by, hold his breath, and watch.

"I thought I told you to take him upstairs," Father comments, voice low like an approaching storm, glare tightening his features.

Todd glares right back.

"Come on, old man, you know as well as I do that he would have snuck right back down here," Todd argues. Damian doesn't counter his point, though his shoulders creep up towards his ears, self-conscious. Todd is correct in his assessment, but Damian will not admit it out loud. "He was just gonna keep comin' back until he could make sure dear ol' Dickie survived the night."

Father heaves a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. Dropping his hand, he turns his glare to Damian. Damian meets his gaze head-on, fists clenched at his sides and his face set in a determined pout. He straightens, shoulders easing away from his ears and he tilts his chin up just enough in defiance for Father to catch.

"Richard was my partner," he says, standing his ground. "I will not leave him alone when he is injured."

Father’s face softens imperceptibly, and Damian waits, tense. Father's hulking frame crouches before him, the leather and kevlar of the suit creaking as his knees pop in protest, his pale eyes roving over his face and looking for...Damian doesn't know what.

“You know that Alfred and Leslie had everything handled,” Father comments offhandedly. It is meant to be reassuring, Damian knows, but he cannot help but feel like Father does not understand. Damian clenches his jaw.

“Yes,” he admits. “That still does not negate the fact that I would like to check on him myself.”

Father continues to just look at him, as if trying to read every intention beneath his words. His intentions are true, Damian knows this as sure as he knows anything, but Father...Father still struggles to trust him, sometimes. Damian’s chest twinges at the thought, just as his vision swims for a single second as his head pounds in reminder of his injury. He doesn’t think he gives any indication of the effect, but Father’s brows tighten in concern.

“You’re injured,” he says.

Jason scowls.

“I thought you said you weren’t hurt anywhere else, twerp.”

Bruce shoots Todd a look. Damian glares at him.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Todd says, hands up in surrender. “I checked him over and he said he was fine.”

“I lied,” Damian says, his voice tight and head throbbing harder now at his admission, as if it had been waiting for the moment to finally show his weakness. Father pushes to his feet, joints protesting the movements

“Cot. Now.”

Damian tenses at the tone, but he follows to the bed next to Richard’s, brushing his fingers against Richard’s blankets as if touching the mattress alone would tell him of his current state.

Richard’s chest rises and falls, and Damian crawls into his own cot.

Father’s fingers are impossibly gentle as he examines him for injury, cradling his chin in his hands as he shines a penlight into Damian’s eyes. Damian winces and pulls away from the light, head pounding, but Father holds him steady, a sturdy safe haven in a storm. As the light pulls back, Damian squeezes his eyes tight, willing the pain away. He hears the light shut off with a sharp click, feels Father’s hand hesitate against his chin, shifting to cradle his face in his large, calloused palm. Damian opens his eyes in muted surprise, catching his father’s gaze warily. He just watches him again for a moment, some emotion behind the gaze soothing Damian against his notice. He takes a breath. Father strokes his thumb across Damian’s cheek in some sort of comfort, and Damian allows himself to lean into the motion. Just this once, of course. Tears suddenly well in his eyes, and he blinks them away rapidly.

“What’s wrong?” Father asks, urgency bleeding into his tone, thumb stilling on his face.

“I...” Damian chokes, gaze flitting away to the still form on the bed beyond. His heart fills with dread. “I— it was my fault that Grayson—”

Bruce crouches down in front of him, catching his other hand with his free one.

“This wasn’t your fault.”

Damian bristles.

“But I—”

“Damian.”

His name is said so softly, so quietly, that Damian stills. There is no anger in his father’s tone, no disgust or disgrace on his features. Tears well in his eyes again and Bruce’s thumb resumes its motion across his cheek to wipe them away.

“I messed up,” he grits around the lump taking up residence in his throat, “and Grayson paid the price for my mistake. If that does not indicate that his injury is my fault—”

“Enough.”

Damian quiets again, ducking his head down and away as his tears continue to fall. He sniffles and Father moves, pushes to stand, and plucks Damian right off the cot and into his arms. Damian’s head swims at the motion and he ducks his face against his Father’s neck, the scents of sweat and leather and motor oil filling his nostrils. He’s stiff for only a moment before he sags against his father’s chest, tears falling and disappearing into the cape tucked under his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he cries quietly, and Father shushes him, rubbing his palm gently against his back. He clutches Damian tight, lets him cry himself out, and holds him as he drifts off to sleep in his exhaustion.

~***~

When Damian wakes, there is a hand carding through his hair. He sighs and leans into the motion, pressing his forehead against the warm body at his side, pulling the sheet closer under his chin. There’s a breathy huff of laughter above him and Damian stills. That sounds like—

His eyes fly open and he glances up at Richard. Richard smiles down at him wearily, fingers continuing to massage his scalp, soothing away the lingering hurt.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, voice scratchy from disuse.

Damian’s eyes water against his best intentions. “Richard,” he croaks, fingers tightening around the fabric of his sleep shirt beneath his hands.

Too many emotions bubble up at once, and Damian doesn’t know how to feel. Relief that Richard is all right, rage at himself for allowing Richard to be injured in the first place, exhaustion, pain, lingering fear at the thought of losing Richard yet again—

He settles on anger. Wants to settle on anger.

He wants to be angry at this stupid imbecile, furious that he would throw himself in harms way for him when Damian isn’t— he’s not worthy of it, why —

But he’s too tired and his head still hurts and the relief of seeing Richard awake and well is too much, and before he knows it he’s crying again. How embarrassing. How pathetic. He ducks back down to hide his face against Richard’s side as he shudders, choking back sobs. Richard makes a noise of distress and tugs at him until Damian is upright so he can assess his situation.

“Damian? Dami, kiddo, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” he says urgently, gripping Damian’s upper arm tightly.

Damian sniffles miserably, and how much more pathetic can he be, sniveling in front of his brother, in front of his Batman like this? He refuses to look Richard in the face as he speaks.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stumbles, scrubbing furiously at his face. “I shouldn’t have— I should have been faster, I shouldn’t have froze—”

“Dames—”

“Freezing in the field is unacceptable,” he presses. “It results in injury and— I—” he stops, sucking in a shuddering breath. His gaze is locked on the sheets across Richard’s torso, bulging atop the bandages wrapped snugly around his abdomen. Damian reaches out and nearly touches the blankets there, but jerks back in a panic. He has already hurt Richard once tonight, how dare he try to do it again—

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, turning his head away.

“Damian,” Richard calls softly, and pauses as if he doesn’t know what to say.

Damian braces for a rebuke, for blame, for a punishment, anything that would lay the fault solely on himself for Richard’s injury. A hand reaches up and Damian freezes in place, subconscious preparing for a strike. The hand stills, and if Damian were looking, he would have seen the look of sorrow and restrained fury cross Richard’s face. No comment comes to pass; Richard places his hand on his cheek and turns Damian’s head towards his, much like Father had done earlier. Damian does not meet his gaze. Richard sighs.

“Damian, sweetheart, please look at me.”

Damian purses his lips but obliges. Richard’s eyes are also soft like Father’s, and there is no blame there that he can find. He feels anger bubble in his stomach.

“How are you not furious with me?” he hisses through teeth clenched against his tears. “If I had not frozen, you would not have been shot—”

“Damian, I’m not blaming you for this. Never.”

“You should,” he snarls, anger rearing its head as it rages hot in his belly. Anger at himself for his error, anger at Richard and Father for not seeing his failures, anger at Todd because— he doesn’t know why. All he knows in this moment is anger, and he clenches his fists around the blanket across his and Richard’s laps. “My error resulted in your injury. You nearly died because of me—”

“Damian—"

“I almost lost you again!” he shrieks.

Bats startle far above them and wings flap furiously as they fly off into the cave, his shout echoing down the cave tunnels. The clacking of the computer keyboard across the way stops abruptly, and Damian suddenly feels very, very small. Sobs rise like magma in his throat, and he buries his face in his hands in embarrassment.

“I just got you back,” he rasps, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes to stop the flow and to relieve his still pounding head. “I just got you back and because of my error, I ruined our night, and you nearly died.”

“Oh, kiddo,” Richard breathes.

He wraps his fingers around Damian’s wrist and pulls. Damian doesn’t have the energy or will to fight him, refuses to hurt him in any way again, and allows himself to be pulled down and tucked back against Richard’s side. Richard buries his face in Damian’s hair with soothing murmurs as Damian struggles to catch his breath through his tears. Eventually, he quiets, little hiccuping breaths the only indication of his breakdown. Finally, Richard speaks.

“Let me make this very clear,” he starts softly. Damian stills, throat clicking as he swallows past the lump in his throat. “My actions, jumping in front of that gun, none of that is your fault.”

“But I—”

“No,” Richard snaps. Damian bites his lip. “No,” he says softer, rubbing his hand soothingly against Damian’s back.

“I won’t let you blame yourself for this. My job is to protect you, and that is exactly what I did,” he says gently. “Even if I’m not your Batman anymore, protecting you will always be my duty as your big brother. Capiche?”

Damian breathes out slowly, giving a shallow nod in response against Richard’s ribs. “You will always be my Batman,” he concedes quietly. Richard squeezes him gently in response. “But it is also my duty to protect you.”

Richard reaches down to tilt his head up again. Damian looks this time. “You can watch my six,” Richard says, “and I appreciate it when you do.

“But you already saved my life once by putting yours on the line,” he whispers, grief etched across his face. Phantom pains echo through Damian’s rib cage in response. “I don’t want to have to bury you ever again, Dames.”

Damian’s throat constricts, and he purses his lips and swallows against a new flood of tears. His head hurts so much, and he just wants it all to stop.

“That is— that is why I froze,” he whispers, releasing his secret before it is locked away forever in his chest. “That man...h-he looked so much like— like Heretic, and I…” he trails off, voice failing him. Richard sucks in a breath, horror in his eyes.

“Oh, kiddo,” he breathes. Damian squeezes his eyes shut, and Richard pulls him close again.

“He’s long gone,” Richard reassures him, and Damian knows this already, knows that Heretic is gone for good, but the fear still sits in his chest, like a piece of the blade that struck him down got stuck on the way out, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever shake it loose. “He can’t take you away from us ever again… and you’ll never have to protect me from him again. You’re safe, sweetheart,” he whispers, squeezing Damian’s nape. A single tear escapes down Damian’s cheek. Richard wipes it away and presses a kiss to his hair.

“You’re safe, and you’re right here with me. You’re not going to be taken away from us ever again.”

“Nor you from me,” Damian whispers, pushing his head tight against Richard’s chest.

Richard squeezes back, and the two of them lie there, soaking in each other’s presence, relieved at the fact that they both are still alive and safe. They will have other nights to spend with each other, and that much is a promise. Father continues his reports across the cave, the bats flutter above, and everything is alright, for now.

With those assurances, the two of them drift back to sleep.

#damian wayne #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #dc comics #batfam #fanfics #hey I'm back!! 8 months late #lmao #whumptober 2020 #lyss writes #bat fic #bat fics

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 2 years ago

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go and find yourself

by konan_konan

“I’m not waiting for him to get his ass in gear,” Jason snaps. “We’ll take it tonight. Ask forgiveness, not permission.”

“You rarely ask for either.”

“Shut up.”

or: dick isn't dead, but he gets the feeling he's supposed to be.

Batfamily Week Day 3: SOMETHING TO DIE FOR Undercover | Presumed Dead | “Where were you? I needed you and you weren’t there!”

Words: 9535, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of konan's batfam week '23

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, DCU

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Zatanna Zatara, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth

Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Zatanna Zatara, Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Everyone

Additional Tags: Hurt Dick Grayson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Magic-Users, Presumed Dead, but its kind of a twist on that...?, You'll see!, Ghosts, Ghost Dick Grayson, sort of. its complicated., Magical Accidents, Magical Artifacts, MacGuffins, Misunderstandings, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Some Humor, Angst and Humor, Everyone Loves Dick Grayson, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Coma, Comatose Dick Grayson, Hallucinations, Jason Todd Has Issues, Zatanna Zatara is So Done, She does not get paid enough for this, she does not get paid AT ALL!!, Murder on the Orient Express - Freeform, its not really relevant i just love that book, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Rated teen mostly for swearing

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/46109515

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years ago

Text

Finding Your Heart - fic

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, bits of Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown Summary: This wasn’t the way he wanted to find Damian, after everything that happened between them. This wasn’t how he wanted Alfred and Dick to reunite with him either. A/N: Dick was driving the plane. Crane blew up the building on purpose to cover his tracks, and was the one to lock Damian in the lab after he and the nameless henchmen fought. The whole family comes home and basically all live in the cave/Damian’s room as he recovers, and they all have conversations with him about what he was doing, why etc. Damian didn’t kill the guy who stabbed him because he recognized the henchmen was no the problem, Crane was. He’s still a good boy in my book. Glossed over kind of plotholes because I didn’t care enough and it wasn’t the point of this story ok bye. Don’t forget my Pateron and shit!

If Bruce was grateful for anything, it was the fact that no matter what he lost, save for his parents, it always came back.

Jason came back. Dick came back. Tim came back. Stephanie came back.

Alfred, now, came back too.

Damian…he came back. And then he left again.

It was in the back of his mind, as they celebrated Alfred’s return to life, and Dick’s return from amnesia. The fact that their returns were not through darkness, not through aliens, not through a multiverse crashing down around them and changing time.

It was magic. It was a miracle.

But Damian wasn’t here. And Bruce would never ever forget that. Not now, as they shared delivery pizza at the island in the manor’s spacious kitchen. Not in the days after, as things settled back into a semblance of the old normal, with new quirks here and there. Not in the weeks after either, as Alfred returned to being Penny-One, and Dick began to retrain himself to return to the Nightwing title soon.

Just as Bruce would never forget the tears in Dick’s eyes when he explained to him and Alfred what had happened to their youngest. His breakdown, and resolve in the violence. When he explained why.

“It’s not your fault.” Bruce promised, even as Alfred pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and silently dabbed his eyes. “It’s mine. I…I didn’t see his grief. I didn’t understand how badly he was taking your absences. I didn’t know.”

“But I would have.” Alfred had whispered, closing his eyes.

“We would have.” Dick corrected.

And he’d never forget the despair on grandfather and son alike, when Dick asked if Bruce had any idea where he was, and he had to tell them no.

Damian was a sore subject, to say the least, after that. No one spoke of him, though Bruce found everyone stopping near the case holding his old uniform every so often.

Not a memorial for the dead, this time. But a memorial for the child they failed.

His name was like a bad word, a sour taste, and Bruce never forgot that either.

Most of all, he never forgot it was his fault.

Even now, as he, Tim and Stephanie fought against a gang that he had yet to determine which super villain they associated with, he thought of his son. The one not there, the one he chased away.

How much he could use his help right now. How much he missed him.

God, if Jason knew, he’d be furious. Furious because he didn’t learn the first time around, with him.

The fight was in the streets, and it was becoming a stalemate. Not that he and his partners for the evening would give up. But he was looking for an opening, a moment to retreat, regroup, then reappear with a new attack plan.

But the moment never came, because suddenly one of their enemies shouted.

“Boss said it’s a go! She’s blowin’!”

Before any of them could comprehend the warning, a building down the block – a lab, if Bruce had his bearings right – shuddered in an explosion. Glass from windows spraying into the street, flames pushing out right after. Dust and ash came at them in a typhoon-like wave.

And the gang members in the street laughed.

“You’re fucked.” One nearby cackled. When he came back into view, he had a gasmask on. “You’re so fucked, Batman.”

Bruce punched him in the Adam’s apple, and let him drop to the ground unconscious.

“Something’s in that building.” Bruce said through the comms. “How dangerous?”

“Gotham Labs.” Tim’s voice crackled. Bruce still couldn’t see him in the floating dust. “No major projects that I know of. Or dangerous. Vegan cosmetics was the last big thing I heard about coming from there.”

“And now it’s all up in flames?” Stephanie sighed. “So much for stealing Batman’s credit card on its launch date.”

“Spoiler, please.” Tim snorted.

Before Bruce could scold them, tell them to focus, get them to get these thugs off the street, there was a shriek from the lab, and a shape running from the destroyed building.

“Take care of them.” Bruce ordered. “I’m going up ahead.”

Stephanie and Tim both gave their affirmatives, and jumped back into fighting the henchmen, now with a small element of surprise in the fog. As Bruce ran forward, he saw the shape was a woman in a lab coat.

“Help!” She was screaming. “Someone…anyone! Police! Ambulance! Help!”

“Ma’am.” Bruce called as he approached, careful not to scare her. She turned towards him with tears cascading down her face.

Bruce frowned. She…was clean. No ash, no burns. Her hair wasn’t even out of place. He glanced back towards the building, now smoking.

“Are you alright?”

“What? Oh, me? Yes. I’m fine. We’re all fine.” She sniffed, trying to wipe at her face. “But he’s not. He’s trapped and…and I don’t think there’s any vents in there, and we can’t-”

“He who?”

“I…” The woman paused. “I don’t know. He didn’t give a name. He just…he just appeared! Out of nowhere! Got us all out of the lab, shoved us in the bunker, told us to stay there until help arrived. Then…then the explosion happened, and when we came out to check, he was still in the lab, but…but Batman…”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“He was bleeding when we saw him.” The woman’s tears suddenly flowed harder. “But the canisters were all broken, we could see them.”

“What was in the canisters?”

“I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The woman cried. “He…he was paying for our other research, and…and he was blackmailing us. We didn’t have a choice.”

Bruce’s stomach dropped.

“Who paid you?” He demanded. “What was in the canisters?”

“Fear gas.” The woman whispered. “Jonathan Crane was forcing us to make it. Mass produce. The…the boy tonight, he saved us, but whatever happened, all the canisters are broken, and the gas is in the lab.”

The woman hid her face.

“And there’s a failsafe on the doors.” She wailed. “That…that fucking shit is dangerous. So if even only one canister malfunctioned, the lab would seal itself shut to contain it.”

“For how long?” Bruce asked. “How long does the lab seal for?”

“I don’t know!” The woman yelled. “Crane installed it! He never told us!” She stopped her foot and pointed from where she came. “But he’s in there, the gas is flooding the place, he’s hurt, I didn’t see him have a respirator, and we can’t get him out!”

Bruce nodded, shoving his own respirator onto his face. “Stay here.”

The woman, surprisingly listened, but shouted information after him. The lab was in the basement, and the remaining scientists were still trying to first reach one of the doors to the lab through the explosion wreckage, and second, try to figure out if they could even open the door.

“Red Robin, when you’re finished, I’ll need you inside.” Bruce called through his communicator as he burst through the doors and looked for a way down. Not hard, when there were various holes in the floor from the explosion. “And both of you, there’s a potential for fear gas in the area. Masks on, now.”

They both returned an affirmative, and Barbara was immediately on the line herself, relaying last known sightings of the Scarecrow.

As Bruce got to the lower levels, he began to follow the voices, the sounds of things being thrown, or pushed. After a few rounded corners, he found the gaggle of scientists, three pushing fallen shelving units and chairs away from a large metal door, and a fourth knelt in front of said door, typing wildly on a keypad.

“It’s…it’s not working!” The typer growled in frustration. “There’s…there’s nothing I can think of! Nothing is working!”

“Then keep thinking!” Another one spat as he threw a table over the heads of the other two assisting him. “That kid is a fucking goner if we don’t get him out of there!”

Unlike the woman outside, Bruce didn’t announce his presence, just silently moved forward. As he reached them, he glanced into one of the windows next to the door, just to see what he was going to be working with. Who he was, hopefully, going to save, and not have to watch die a slow and painful death.

Immediately, his knees went weak.

The lab wasn’t that big. Smaller than an average fast food joint, but bigger than a grocery store public bathroom. Even through the opaque green gas, Bruce could see canisters lining the floor underneath the tables that followed the walls of the room, where microscopes, liquid-filled vials and partially constructed containers sat.

Each canister had a sizable hole in the side, and Bruce could only guess – remote detonation.

But none of that was important, not now, as he tried to stop himself from collapsing to his knees. What was important was the boy in the middle, wearing a black body suit, similar to Nightwing’s, and a black cape with a hood and faded gold trim.

Damian.

“Jesus Christ, no.” He gasped. The scientists nearby jumped, having still not seen him.

Luckily, it was Gotham, and even scientists were disillusioned to the sudden appearance of a vigilante. “We’ve gotta get that kid out of there, Bats. Just one inhale of that crap will make you hallucinate. He’s been in there at least ten minutes, probably more, who knows what the effects could be.”

“Death, probably.” Another one said. The one who spoke slapped her on the arm. “What? I’m being honest! That’s why we don’t have to waste, here!”

Damian hadn’t moved at their ruckus. He was lying on the ground, eyes closed, half curled in on himself, hand clutching his side. There was blood on his fingers, and coming from his nose. Even through the gas, Damian looked dirty. Tired.

Bruce wondered where he’d been sleeping. Was he sleeping? Was he safe?

But then his heart stuttered again, as he noticed something else in the room. In the corner, by a door on the other side of the room. A man. A body.

A body that was, surprisingly, breathing. A body dressed like the gang members outside, that was wearing a respirator that looked suspiciously like one Bruce knew Damian used to carry, when he was Robin.

“…You all need to get out.” Bruce found himself croaking, as his surprise and heartache began to transform into action.

“What? No way. We need to get that kid out!” The one at the keyboard countered. “And…and maybe that other one, I don’t know if he’s even still…”

“I’ll handle it. Now go.” Bruce heard a click on his communicator, other chatter. Alfred it sounded like, to Barbara. Dick, too. He was at the cave with Alfred. The scientists didn’t move. “I said now!”

The four jumped again, and one by one began to slowly move. The last one, the man at the door, stopped on his way. “…You get that kid out, Batman, or so fucking help me.”

Bruce glared down at him. The man shrunk away and ran after his coworkers.

Bruce looked back into the room. The man in the corner was unconscious, he could tell that much. But still.

Bruce put his hand on the window. “…I don’t know what to call you.”

Damian twitched at the noise, and twisted his head to look at Bruce directly. His mask was still green, and it didn’t move as he frowned.

“Oh, great.” Damian sighed, dropping his head. “You.”

“I’m going to get you out, son.” Bruce said. “I promise.”

“Save it.” Damian huffed. But it was quick, and Bruce knew it was because he was trying not to breathe. “I’m not talking to you, Mother.”

Bruce blinked.

The gas. The hallucinations were your fears.

“It’s…it’s me.” Bruce tried instead. “Not your mother.”

Damian turned away, rolled with a groan to lay on his back. “My father doesn’t show up in real life, why would he show up in a fear-induced hallucination?”

Bruce almost smiled at his attitude. He was trying to fight the gas, like it was a sentient being. That was so like him.

God, Bruce missed it.

“I…Rob…” Bruce swallowed. “Da-”

“Do not say another word, Master Bruce.” Alfred scolded on the communicator. His voice was loud. “Focus on getting that door open.”

“I…right.” Bruce shook his head, and crouched, pulling out a code-breaking device from his utility belt.

“Tim will be in to help you in a few minutes.” Dick now, but he sounded distracted. “And we should be only a few minutes behind him.”

Bruce froze. “…What?”

“We’re coming.” Dick said plainly. “We’re coming to get Damian.”

“Wait, no.” Bruce growled. “Nightwing, you’re not recovered yet. A-Alfred, you’re…you are not to be in the field. It’s not safe-”

“And you will have your hands full with the other man in the chamber.” Alfred shot back. “Not to mention, you only have a respirator for yourself. From your cowl footage, it’s clear Damian gave his to that man. You know as soon as you get in there, he will be in the throws of the effects of the gas, and won’t recognize you. He doesn’t recognize you now. He will fight you, or flee, before you can get him any kind of help.”

“And we are not letting that happen.” Dick hissed. “We’re bringing Damian home, Bruce, or so help me-”

“It’s not safe.” Bruce snapped back, hitting buttons on his device. He could hear Damian babbling in the lab now. Talking about how he’s not scared of anything, least of all his father, or his judgment. Which, of course, Bruce knew, meant the complete opposite. He ignored the guilt in his heart, at least for a moment. “You are both to stay in the cave and wait for-”

“Bruce.” Alfred said coldly. “I am coming to get my grandson. Nightwing is coming to get his brother. And there is not a goddamn thing you can do to stop us.”

Bruce heard the distinct sound of a link click off.

“…So…” Stephanie chimed in after a moment. “Red’s on his way in and…I guess I’ll wait out here for Nightwing and, uh, Penny-One to arrive.”

Bruce frowned, squeezed the device in his hand a little too tightly, heard it creak in his grip. He continued to search through codes, the others be damned.

They didn’t know what he would do. Their beliefs were wrong. He wouldn’t worry about the man who clearly stabbed his son. He was unconscious and had a breather. He was fine. Tim could take him, whenever he got there.

No. Bruce would rush in, and he’d take his son into his arms. He’d put pressure on the wound, and hold his boy, no matter how hard Damian fought him, no matter how deep in the gas’s hallucinations he was.

He’d hold his son and this time, he was not letting go. For anything, or anyone.

He heard Tim arrive behind him, and glanced back into the chamber as Tim pulled a wire from his glove to plug into the keypad on the door. Damian was muttering to himself now. But more than that, he was trembling. Sweating. His eyes were wild behind the mask, darting back and forth, or trying to keep them closed, and failing.

He stood, put his hand on the thick glass. He wondered what Damian was seeing, hearing. “Son.” He called, and Damian twitched, curling deeper into himself. “Focus on my voice.”

“No.” Damian shot back.

“Batman, it’s not a good idea.” Tim offered, clicking away on his pad. “You know he’s hearing things. It’s not coming across as you.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t try.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t be construed into something else by the time he hears it.” Tim snapped. “You know that.”

“So you want him to lie in there and suffer?” Bruce shot back. He saw Tim tighten his jaw. “The least we can do is try.”

“The least we can do is focus on getting him out of there.” Tim countered. “So save your emotional vomit for later and help me.”

He huffed a frustrated breath, but…Tim was right. Of course Tim was right. So he pushed at the door, testing how tight it was, if the explosion had loosened it at all, and settled back in next to Red Robin to hack into the system.

The code was seven digits, and after they believed they figured out three, Bruce glanced over to make sure Tim had his respirator on. Glanced up at the unsteady building around them, that could theoretically collapse on them all at any moment. After four numbers, he glanced back to Damian. His trembles had manifested constant twitching now. Fingers, ankles, lips.

The gas seemed to be settling a little now, the room a little less green. That didn’t help, of course, since Damian was on the floor, where said gas was settling. But it would make containment easier. Wouldn’t reach the city, or any one who wasn’t in this room.

One less thing standing between he and his boy.

His heart fluttered when they hit the fifth digit. Hope, he could hope, he had hope. Damian had hope.

And when Tim’s device dinged for the sixth a moment later, Nightwing and Penny-One appeared in the doorway.

Dick was in his full Nightwing uniform, the one he hadn’t yet worn since before the amnesia. The one he was wearing when he was shot, Bruce realized, as he noticed the shadow of the large bloodstain on the costume’s neck.

Alfred was in black and dull green tactical gear, a black eye mask and a clear respirator adorning his face. He had a shotgun in hand, but Bruce saw at least one more handgun on his hip.

He forgot sometimes, Alfred used to be in the British army.

“Move.” Alfred demanded. Tim shifted to the side of the door, eyes still on his tablet. Bruce didn’t. “Batman, I won’t ask again.”

“He really won’t.” Nightwing mused as they walked forward. He was just finishing putting on his own rebreather. “Seriously, Bruce. Let us handle this.”

“He is my son.” Bruce countered, but his voice wasn’t right. It wasn’t as authoritative. It was almost whiny.

Almost scared.

“And you ran him off in the first place.” Alfred countered. “So the likelihood that you are the first one he’d want to see is almost zero.”

“Not to mention, there’s an asshole in there who, by the looks of it, stabbed him.” Nightwing added, glancing into the window. “So it’d probably be better if you took care of that guy than one of us because let me tell you, B. We’re already not happy.”

Alfred pumped his shotgun. “Indeed.”

“We’d also like some cover, if you don’t mind.” Dick said brightly. “There’s still been no sign of Crane. And if he or anyone else shows up while we’re trying to wrangle Damian, there could be trouble.” Dick looked over with a dark grin. “And we don’t want any more trouble, you know?”

And he did. Bruce did know. Bruce knew all of that, and on a normal case, he’d have already suggested and done all of it.

But, still. His heart was getting in the way. For once, his heart was overriding his head, and all he found himself saying was, “But he’s my son…”

For the first time that night, Alfred softened a little. He put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “So let us help you get your son home safely.”

At that moment, Damian screamed. No words, just a loud sound as he dropped to his back, body bowing as his chest and hips lifted.

Dick swallowed. “Red.”

“I’m working on it!” Tim snapped, angrily punching buttons on his tablet. There was the sound of something falling across the room. “I think if I can just…”

The tablet beeped, and the door sighed as the seal broke.

Dick was at the door instantly, digging his fingers into the seam until the door shifted. Bruce grabbed it too, pulling it until the gap was wide enough for their bodies to slip through.

“Kid!” Dick was calling as he fell into the room first. Damian growled in response. Dick jumped across the room anyway, dropping to his knees. “I’ve got you.”

Tim got into the room next, and he silently went for Damian’s assailant. Then Alfred, who followed Dick. Bruce remained just inside the room.

“Can you hear me?” Dick asked quietly, running his hand over Damian’s hair. “Can you hear me, D?”

“Fuck off.” Damian gasped, pulling away from Dick’s hand and struggling to twist up onto his elbows. His cape twisted around his biceps. “F-fuck off, I don’t have to listen to you.”

“I know.” Dick said smoothly. He glanced at Alfred, who already had gauze out, and was trying to assess Damian’s injuries. “…Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“What, did Satan suddenly forget his own name?” Damian spat, waving his arm like he was swatting at a fly around his head. “We already had this conversation last time I was in Hell, you twat.”

Bruce felt himself twitch at the statement. But he didn’t get any more time to think about it, as Tim was calling, “Any time you feel like it, Batman!”

Bruce shook his head, running over to help Tim with the other man in the lab.

“So yes, I know your name. And I know what you’re going to say.” Damian droned as he slowly shifted to his knees. “I know my parents hate me. I know I’m worthless. I know it’s my fault everyone is dead. Or was there something else you’d like to add?”

“…Oh, my boy.” Alfred whispered, and Damian froze. His eyes went wide as he slowly sat back on his knees. “My boy, it’s alright.”

Damian blinked, and tears appeared in his eyes. Almost robotically, he turned his head towards Alfred. “No.”

Alfred smiled. “Yes, my dear. It’s me. I’m here.”

“No!” Damian wailed. He turned back towards the room, searching. Eventually his eyes landed on something above and behind Dick’s shoulder. “Get him out!”

Dick glanced behind him, just to make sure there was nothing, and even looked over towards Bruce and Tim. They both shrugged.

“Pennyworth does not belong in Hell.” Damian hissed. “You’ve stolen him, haven’t you. You’ve stolen him and you’ve trapped him here, you overgrown piece of shit. No wonder you were kicked out of Heaven, you absolute waste of space!”

Damian tried to lunge, but the slice in his side reacted to the movement, and he recoiled instantly, shoving his hand against it.

“I’ll duel you.” He decided. “I’ll duel you for his soul, and I’ll kill you. Then I’ll rule Hell, and I’ll be sure to get all the souls you’ve stolen out.”

“Damian.” Alfred tried softly. He passed the gauze to Dick. “My dear boy, I’m not in Hell.” He reached out and carefully took Damian’s hand between both of his. Damian’s eyes, impossibly, grew wider, as he turned to look at Alfred once more. “And neither are you.”

“I should be.” Damian breathed. “I should be for what I did to you.”

“You did nothing to me.” Alfred promised. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

It was mine. Bruce thought, as he rolled the man and pulled his arms together for Tim. It was mine, and I let Damian take the blame.

“I should have done something. I should have figured something else out.” Damian gasped, tears rolling down his face. He jerked, but didn’t take his eyes off Alfred, as Dick pressed the gauze to his side. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Damian.” Alfred promised, squeezing Damian’s hand. “Absolutely nothing.”

“D, I need you to breathe.” Dick hummed. Damian jumped again, looked towards him. “Or, well, I need you to breathe slower. In and out.”

“I’m sorry.” Damian continued, eyes looking around the space, looking right through Dick. There was an accent in his voice now, and both Dick and Alfred knew too well that his accent only returned when their boy was at his lowest. “Pennyworth, I…I should have sacrificed myself. Bane would have happily killed me instead of you.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Alfred continued to try to soothe. “Damian, just focus on my voice, alright?”

“I should have let him kill me. I should have been there for Grayson.” Damian rambled. “I could have pushed him out of the way. Taken the bullet.” He tried to tug his hand from Alfred’s but the old man wouldn’t let go. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I belong here. I failed you, and I failed Grayson and I am worthless so of course I belong down here in this god forsaken pl-”

“Hey.” Dick whispered. Balancing holding the pressure against Damian’s wound in one hand, he reached for Damian’s free hand with the other. Damian’s fingers twitched in his grip, and he watched with almost glee as recognition hit Damian’s eyes. “Kiddo, you didn’t fail me.”

Damian’s tears fell faster.

“You have never failed me a day in your life.” Dick smiled. “And look, see? I’m right here. I’m fine.”

“G-Grayson?” Damian murmured hopefully.

“Right here, Damian.” Dick nodded. Damian blinked at him, then looked at Alfred, then back. Then his eyes seemed to roam the room, like he was seeing it for the first time. He even looked over to Bruce, Tim and the man in the corner. “I came home.”

“…I’m sorry.” Damian whispered, looking back towards Dick. “I should have been there.”

Dick kept his grin, and shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t have.” He glanced behind Damian, watched as Alfred let go of his hand to reach into one of his pockets. It reappeared with the extra respirator they had brought, and he silently held the back of Damian’s head as he pressed it to his face. Once again, Damian didn’t seem to notice the action, nor Alfred retaking his hand. “I’m frankly real damn glad you weren’t.”

“It’s my job to protect Batman. My Batman.” Damian continued, frantically trying to blink the tears from his eyes. He turned to Alfred. “It’s my job to protect my family.”

“It’s not.” Alfred smiled too. “Your job as always been to allow us to love you, and to come home safe at the end of the day.”

“Your job is to be a kid.” Dick added. “Right now, your job is to not bleed out on this floor. Think you can do that for me?”

But Damian was shaking his head. Damian was pulling his trembling hands from theirs and hiding his face behind them as he doubled over himself and pressed his head to his knees.

“I’m sorry.” He cried. “I’m so sorry.”

“…I don’t think he believes they’re real.” Tim whispered as he leaned back from the unconscious man.

Bruce shook his head. “He won’t until his system is free of the gas.”

“Or until he stops losing blood.” Tim hummed. “We’ve gotta get him back to the cave.”

“I’m so sorry.” Damian continued across the room. “Please forgive me. Please, please forgive me.”

“…I agree.” Bruce sighed. He watched as Alfred pulled Damian’s hand back into his, and ran the other along the back of his head. As Dick, keeping one hand against the injury, wrapped his arm around Damian’s back and leaned his cheek on his shaking spine. “We need to get him home.”

“Want me to deal with this guy while you go with them?” Tim asked, pushing himself onto his feet.

Bruce watched for a moment longer. Listened as Damian sobbed, as Damian hated himself. Watched as Dick closed his eyes in sorrow, as Alfred wiped away his own tears too.

“No, I’ll…I’ll stay. They have him.” Bruce admitted, despite how tight his heart felt. “The more of us finishing this up, the faster we can all get home and be with him.” Tim nodded and helped Bruce to his feet, then leaned over to haul the man up. “…Nightwing.”

Dick opened his eyes and glanced over. After a moment, he nodded and sat back up. “Alfie.”

Alfred nodded too, reaching into another pocket and pulling out a syringe. Dick gently rolled Damian to his side, which Damian surprisingly allowed, and carefully gathered the boy into his arms.

“P-Please forgive me.” Damian continued, still hiding his eyes behind his one hand. As soon as he was settled, Alfred leaned forward and plunged the needle into his throat.

Like everything else, the fear gas made it so Damian didn’t notice.

They were all silent as the effects took hold. As Damian’s cries slowed, and tapered off into slow, watery breathes. As his hand dropped from his face in unconsciousness.

It was like a funeral procession as they left the remnants of the lab. Dick first, Damian in his arms. Alfred right behind them. Tim and Bruce bringing up the rear with the nameless man between them.

On the street, the GCPD were already swarming, taking the rest of the gang into custody. The plane Alfred and Dick brought sat in the middle of the road not far away.

“Get him home.” Bruce murmured as he passed Dick. “Call with any updates. We should be back soon.”

“Take your time.” Dick hummed. “It’s going to take us a while to get him stable.”

Bruce nodded, and gave Dick’s shoulder a grateful squeeze. He nodded to Alfred, who gave him a grim smile, and then they parted ways. Bruce watched as they loaded into the plane, as it took off down the street.

He exhaled, and let himself smile, just a little.

He’d found him. He’d found his boy.

It was another two or so hours before the rest of them could clamor home, the city saved, the day won. They’d found Crane, and they each took an extra punch or two to him, in honor of Damian.

But when Bruce stepped out of the Batmobile in the cave, the first sound to greet his ears was Damian crying. Still.

He frowned as he moved up the stairs. Had the gas not worn off yet? Why hadn’t they given him an antidote?

But he stopped as the medbay came into view. Damian was hooked up to every machine available, injuries bandaged and Dick was lying next to him on the cot. Damian himself was sat up, and engulfed in the embrace of one Alfred Pennyworth.

“You’re alive.” He was wailing, clinging to Alfred’s torso. To Dick, who was rubbing his back, he cried, “You came back.” Then to both, even as Alfred tried to wipe at the boy’s eyes. “You’re both here.”

“Like we could ever stay away from you, kiddo.” Dick smirked.

But still, among the tears of relief and reunion, was the litany that wasn’t as influenced as the fear gas as they’d hoped.

“I’m sorry.” Damian whispered. Alfred just stroked at his hair. Dick just rolled over and wrapped his arms around his waist, careful of the now bandaged stab wound nearby. “I’m so sorry. For everything that’s happened. For everything I did. Everything I didn’t do.”

It was something they’d have to work on, all of them. And a confrontation was coming, Bruce knew. But that was okay. That was fine. It didn’t matter. There was only one thing that mattered. One thing that Bruce, and everyone, was grateful for.

Damian was home.

#Damian Wayne #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #dick grayson #Tim Drake

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rhub4rb · 5 years ago

Text

Home is Where the Heart is

AO3

[First chapter] [Previous chapter] [Next chapter]

-_-_-_-

"Alfred, I really think we should talk about this somewhere else." There was a warning in Marinette's tone, but Alfred paid it no mind. They needed this conversation, and he knew Marinette would never say anything unless pressured. He would just have to make up for it later.

"I think it's best if we stay here, Marinette," Alfred said, leaving no room to argue with. "What do you plan to do with your future once you leave?"

Marinette looked warily at the Wayne family, trying to see if they had any idea what Alfred was talking about. When she realized that nothing would come of it, she looked back at Alfred.

"You already know what I'm going to do, Alfred."

"I think you should reconsider your decision, Marinette."

Alfred could tell that Marinette was getting frustrated with him, at least if her tightened fists were any indication.

Abruptly, she stood up, not looking at anyone in particular, her chair scraping the floor.

"I'm not doing this." Was all she said, but Alfred knew better than to just let her go like that.

"Sit down, or I won't help you with any legal documents."

Marinette's head snapped up at him, her eyes wide as she read what the real threat was if she didn't get back to her seat.

I won't accept the amulet.

Alfred was aware that what he was doing was cruel, but he would be damned if he let the young girl throw her life away like that. He had seen it happen too many times now.

With gritted teeth, the girl sat back down in her chair, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Marinette," Alfred started. "You're young. The responsibility that has been given to you is far bigger than it should be for someone your age. All I want for you is to have a life that's worth living."

Marinette averted his gaze, picking nervously at her cuticles instead. Must have been some sort of bad habit, Alfred absently thought.

"You're still technically a minor," Alfred said. "Until you reach the age of 18, you will be placed under Master Bruce's custody," Marinette's head snapped up in his direction, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Wha- you can't just do that!" Marinette yelled, getting back on her feet.

"We can and we will," Alfred stated with an air of finality. Marinette opened and closed her mouth, trying to find words to say, to protest. "Bruce and I have already discussed this," Marinette turned her head to see Bruce nod at her.

"But why?" Marinette asked, her voice cracking.

"I have seen one too many children give their lives away Marinette. I want to protect you for as long as I can. You're in no state to do what you plan to do. If going is truly what you want, you can do that once you're 18, but for now, I want you to focus on yourself," Alfred explained.

Marinette didn't respond, not that Alfred expected her too. Instead, she quietly walked out of the dining room, everyone hearing the faint opening and closing of her door.

Tim was the one to break the tense silence.

"So... What just happened?"

"He's told them, Tikki!" Marinette cried out, throwing her hands in the air. "I told you something like this was going to happen, I told you!"

All of the kwamis looked at their Guardian with worry. She had been pacing the floor for the last fifteen minutes, and it didn't seem like she was stopping any time soon.

"Oh, what am I going to do? I'll have to wipe their memories, but I don't think I'd have any success with Alfred," Marinette worried.

Tikki could understand her chosen's worry. Even if Alfred hadn't revealed what the order was, or what was really his relation with Marinette, the stunt he had pulled in front of the Wayne family would have consequences for Marinette, no doubt about it.

"I can't just tell them about the order or the miraculous, that would be too risky! Tikki, did I make a mistake in coming here?"

Tikki could tell Marinette was spiraling, and she didn't know what to do to stop it, but she did know what to say.

"You didn't make a mistake Marinette, you followed Master Fu's instructions and you didn't know something like this would happen."

Marinette seemed to think over Tikki's words, her face screwing up in thought, until she finally sighed, her shoulders slumping.

"I guess but... I'm still the Guardian, and it's my responsibility to keep all of you safe," Marinette said, looking at the small gods occupying her room. "But what if I can't do that?"

The kwamis all shared a concerned look, Plagg, Tikki, and Wayzz all flying over to comfort the girl.

"You're a smart girl Marinette, you'll figure something out. We believe in you."

Marinette bit her lip, clearly not believing the words coming from the god of creation.

"Why does it feel like I've failed already then?" Marinette asked, going to sit on her bed, rubbing the silky covers between her fingers. "I'm not giving up!" She quickly added when she saw their worried looks. "I just... I have no one to count on for this, you know?"

Marinette was supposed to be able to trust Alfred, but Tikki knew that after what happened tonight, Marinette would be careful with the information that she relayed to the butler and former holder.

Tikki had hoped that Marinette would open up to Alfred about what really happened in Paris after some time, but with the way things were going, Tikki highly doubted Marinette would ever open up to anyone.

"Even if Alfred won't be someone you can trust completely, you will never be alone," Marinette nodded, but Tikki didn't feel convinced. "...Do you want to talk to anyone? Joan maybe?"

At this, Marinette perked up, before she looked around hesitantly, as if the Wayne family would jump out at any moment.

"Don't worry Marinette, we'll just keep the door locked. If you don't think that's enough, we can go into the bathroom if you want."

Marinette paused, quietly considering her options, before nodding and getting up, locking her bedroom door. The kwamis could warn her if anyone came.

No one answered Tim's question, which he considered was fair. He didn't exactly have the answer, and he was the smart one in the family.

"Alfred?" Bruce prodded.

This was ridiculous. When Tim had looked for information on Marinette, he had found nothing. Silch! Nada. She was a complete mystery. There were no pictures, no social media, no files. Nothing. She wasn't on any CCTV, not even at the most popular spots in Paris. She just... didn't exist.

Alfred's line of questioning was peculiar too. Why did he care so much about this one girl? What was really going on between those two?

"I cannot tell you," Alfred replied, his face unreadable.

"Alfred."

Alfred didn't respond, just turned his unreadable expression to Bruce, a silent conversation taking place, ending with Bruce sighing and slumping in his seat.

"Can you please just... explain?" Dick asked, already sounding tired and done.

"I'm just afraid that Marinette would be throwing away the best years of her life, dedicated to a cause she is too young to be a part of."

The silence that came attested to the thoughts of the family on the matter.

"I have a feeling she has made choices in her life that she will be forced to live with forever. I simply want to give her a life that is worth living."

"Why can't you just tell us what's really going on?" Dick asked.

"It's not as simple as you may think, Master Dick. If anyone is going to tell you what is truly happening, it will have to be Marinette herself."

The dining room fell silent again as they processed the little information given to them. At least her relation to the butler was a little more cleared, right? At least, that's what Tim thought, even if he didn't actually gain a proper answer to his questions, which he now had a lot more of.

The way Alfred questioned her though... it felt like he was cornering her, forcing her to say things she didn't want to say. It felt like...

"You went out of line," Tim said, and for a moment, he couldn't believe himself. "She clearly wasn't comfortable with what you did. You were the one to tell us to not scare her away, yet that's exactly what you're doing."

At this, Alfred almost seemed to look ashamed. Did he not even realize that what he was doing was wrong?

"Hold on, hold on, hold on. Are we just going to forget that the girl is here illegally for all we know?" Damian asked.

"As if you care about her being here legally, you just want her gone," Jason accused.

Quickly, the family dissolved into fighting, no one sure what to think anymore.

Marinette sat herself down on the floor, crossing her legs and putting her hands together, thumbs connecting, fingers locking, her palms not touching. She started with deep breaths, seven seconds in, eleven seconds out, feeling her heart calm its erratic beating in her chest.

By now, she had done this several times, she had trained with the former Ladybug chosens, so calling for one was not exactly difficult. However, it required a certain amount of peace of mind, something she didn't exactly have at the moment.

With a final exhale, her earrings lit up, and a spirit pushed itself out of her.

"How are you doing, Marinette?" Joan's voice rang clear in the room.

Most of the kwamis had gone back to the box, understanding Marinette needed privacy more than anything, with only Plagg, Tikki, and Wayzz staying, Plagg listening at the door to make sure no one tried to get in.

"I... I don't really know, if I'm honest," Marinette admitted, biting her lip. "I found the person I was searching for, Alfred Pennyworth. He's butler to an influential family here in Gotham."

Joan nodded, though she could see that there was more the young chosen wished to say.

"Is he trustworthy?" Joan asked.

Marinette let out a sigh, slumping slightly. "I don't know," she whispered. "He almost told about the order to his family," Marinette elaborated, seeing the question in the warrior's eyes. "He says I need to focus on myself first, to let myself live without worry before starting to rebuild the order."

Joan looked contemplative for a moment, looking at Marinette with searching eyes.

"And you?" Joan asks.

"Huh?"

"What do you want to do? What do you feel is best for yourself?"

"I... I don't know! Does it even matter at this point?" Marinette asked, her voice cracking at the end.

Joan and Tikki shared a concerned glance as Marinette shrunk in on herself. It wasn't that Marinette didn't want to take care of herself or anything like that, but it just felt selfish now.

"Of course it matters!" Joan cried, looking at Marinette with wide eyes. "You are just as important as the people you wish to protect." Joan sighed, looking deep in thought for a moment before speaking again. "I know what you think, Marinette. I know you are prepared to lay your life down for this. But you deserve more than that. You deserve happiness as much as the people out there do. You're not letting anyone down. You're simply putting yourself first, something you haven't done in a long time."

A second passed, two, before the dam broke and tears rolled down Marinette's cheeks.

She was just so tired.

"I know, Netta, I know," Joan said, pulling the young chosen into her arms, soothingly rubbing her hands up and down Marinette's back. "I know."

Marinette didn't talk to Alfred for a while, or the rest of the Wayne family for that matter. She avoided going to the kitchen after dark, knowing that Tim would most likely be there, she ate in silence, her response to any questions usually only going so far as one word.

She knew she couldn't avoid Alfred forever. They would have to talk at some point, but if there was a possibility that Marinette had lost everything again, she wanted to sleep in a comfortable bed for just a little more.

Still, Marinette knew that she would probably have to be the one to break the silence.

Grabbing the peacock miraculous, she let out a sigh, steeling her mind. It didn't take her long to find Alfred, going into the kitchen and seeing him prepare tea, as if he knew she was coming. Maybe he did.

"Hey, Alfred..."

"Hello Marinette," Alfred smiled at her gently, placing a cup of herbal tea beside her on the table. "It's probably about time we speak again, hm?"

Marinette flinched, aware that he must have been waiting for her to approach him first, and that she had left him in the dark for a week. Alfred picked up on the flinch and frowned.

"I don't blame you for that," he said. "I was out of line for speaking to you the way that I did. I know that the order is only to be revealed by those trusted by the ones trusted by the guardian."

Marinette felt her heart warm, for once being on the receiving end of an apology. Still...

"I should apologize too," Marinette said, her eyes shifting awkwardly. "You're trying to look out for me. I'm just- I've not-" she continued to cut herself off, before groaning in frustration. "For the longest time now, I haven't been a priority to myself. Honestly, I don't even think I'm in the top twenty! I guess I just... get defensive when it comes to stuff like taking care of myself."

Which in hindsight was hypocritical of her. Wasn't she the one who told Tim that he couldn't take care of anyone if he didn't take care of himself.

"That doesn't mean what you did was okay though. I know you haven't told them anything about the order, otherwise they probably would have been more assertive in finding information on me, but that doesn't mean it wasn't risky."

Alfred nodded, expression serious and understanding.

"It won't happen again," he promised.

Satisfied with his answer, Marinette pulled out the peacock miraculous from her pocket, placing it on the table near Alfred.

"She was broken when we found her," Marinette admitted. "It took the last of Master Fu's energy to fix her."

Alfred looked at Marinette, eyes wide and brimming with tears as he carefully took the brooch, it lighting up at his touch, a small peacock appearing, Tikki sitting on her shoulder and smiling encouragingly at him.

"I'll leave you two alone now," Marinette said, getting up from her seat. "You have a lot to catch up on. We can talk to Bruce about the adoption stuff later."

-_-_-_-

@constancetruggle @mojos-biggest-fan @lysslovesanime @heredmaquam @luciferge @scribblinggraveyard @thatfandomsgirl @eliza-bich @ki77h3dr4g0n @crazylittlemunchkin @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @skyel0ve @serenacross200 @valeks-princess @thebananathatwrites @aurordraws @nothernbluetongue @bluerosette23 @xxmadamjinxx @graduatedmelon @tritaledkitsune @tinybrie @shamefullove @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @danielslilangel @vivilakitty @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @theatreandcomicfreak

#maribat #marijon #joninette #jonette #marinette x jon #home is where the heart is

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fluorescentpipedream · 5 years ago

Photo

A couple of new updates on older characters and one newer one.

First we’ll start with the new one:

Arthur Powell - Arthur was born with a cleft palette when he was an infant though after several corrective surgeries before the age of 4 he was relatively normal, aside from the scar on his upper lip. Arthur was the first born to David and Suzette Powell (guessing on the names, @fat-and-nerdygirl if you wanna change them, go for it) after Suzette’s husband died in a tragic car accident in New Orleans and she remarried Mr. Powell. She already had one son from the previous marriage, Rob, who decided to keep his father’s last name, Whittaker. It was never really a source of contention between him and Powell, since Robert still had a few memories of his father left and wanted to hold onto the name. Anyhow...Arthur was 9 years old when he was helping his older brother Rob, their father and his two younger brothers work on a tree house they were setting up in the yard when he lost his footing climbing down the wooden planks hammered into the tree to serve as a ladder and fell from several feet up. The fall -should- have killed him, however by some stroke of luck Arthur survived, though suffered a pretty traumatic brain injury. This caused Arthur to lose, among other things, control over his emotional reactions to situations and develop Pseudobulbar affect, which causes him to randomly burst out in fits of uncontrollable laughing (or crying, though he seems to laugh more than anything). In the years following the accident, Arthur had to relearn most basic motor skills and ended up with the mental capacity of a younger child than he was. When he was 14, the Powells adopted Frankie into their lives and while it was a bit of an adjustment having a baby in the home, Arthur seemed to take over a very protective stance over his baby sister.

Currently, Arthur is living in a semi-assisted living facility where he has most control over his own life but as he’s approaching 40, he’s looking to move out of the home and into an apartment building owned by his parents and currently being lived in by his little sister. He used to work in the local library but took a job shortly after managing to graduate a local art school program at his fathers’ office building where he mostly sorts mail and keeps the files organized. Arthur has a bit of a learning disability, which is to be expected, all things considered but the accident could have paralyzed him, so he’s doing much better now than most people would have given him credit for. He also has an emotional support dog named Isabella:

He got her about two years ago to help him prepare for moving out of his facility. In addition to his medications he also has a medical marijuana card which he uses to buy pre-rolled cigarettes, they stimulate his appetite since a few of his meds usually leave him without a lot of desire to eat, and can sometimes calm the laughter when it gets too serious.

-----

In looking for pictures of Arthur, we also wound up revisiting the Gotham-esque role play my wife and I came up with years ago and in doing so, brought in some of the old characters from it. I updated a few of them.

The first, of course, is the Joker or Arthur Fleck. Following the death of Batman (supposedly at the hands of Superman but there’s some mystery around those circumstances), Fleck allowed himself to be captured, stating there was little need for him to continue as the Bat was gone and Gotham was ready to return to the state it had been in before he started terrorizing its citizens in the first place. Believing he had been the spark that had ignited the fire in the city (and who’s to say he wasn’t really?) he was willing to sit back and watch it burn. When Batman “comes back from the dead” he orchestrates a rather grand escape of himself and several of the other head villains, looking to maintain the current state of the city. “Who are either of us...the Bat and I, without one another?” From what I also know, Fleck was Bruce’s half-brother as well.

Next up is Johnathan Crane, or the Scarecrow. A clinical psychologist and professor at Gotham University, Crane is slightly obsessed when it comes to the subject of fear as a control mechanism and of what fear does to the human body and mind. In the course of his studies he’s created a neurotoxin which when released into the air, or pushed through the waters can cause intense fear and hallucinations, often bringing an individual’s worst fears to the front and forcing them to deal with them. The effects only last a couple of hours but in that time people who have been exposed to it have often caused harm to themselves or others. Crane recently funded a so-called Psychological experiment using human test subjects where he studied the effects of his toxin on a group of 10 to 20 people, varying age and gender, to see what would happen. Each of the people involved were compensated for their time, and several had to be paid a bit more so as not to send up red flags to the University over what they experienced.

Harvey Dent - former senator of Gotham City, he was horribly disfigured when a bomb set off by some of the Jokers’ men robbed a gala he was attending, following the “death” of the Bat (I think this was probably one of the reasons that Victoria Wayne took up her father’s mantle, seeing that the evil was still in the world, and without her father there to keep it under control it would run rampant and destroy perfectly good people’s lives) Of course, Dent wasn’t exactly a stand-up individual, having been into nuclear testing and toxic waste dumping all while having a kind smile and trusting face that lured in more people to follow his platform. He originally wanted to see the “monsters of Gotham” take responsibility for their actions and not just shove them away in Arkham Asylum but actually rid the world of them for good. When he awakens from the blast and discovers he is now a disfigured, scarred “freak” he is incensed and turns from the political side of things to a more nefarious direction, meaning to not just join the monsters he used to so fervently want to annihilate but to lead them. He and Fleck butt heads quite a bit, as he feels he is superior to Fleck, though the Joker has other things in mind for Two-Face.

Bryce Isley - Only “son” of Pamela Isley, otherwise known as Poison Ivy. Bryce was actually created using her DNA, egg and Bane’s sperm during a testing period in order to create a hybrid metahuman. When Pamela found out what had happened to create him, she took the infant from the lab and took him to Bruce Wayne, begging her former employee to help her. Bryce already possessed powers similar to his mother’s and unimaginable intelligence like that of his father, and in an effort to give Ivy some relief at the end of her days, Bruce agreed to take the child. Until he was 15, Bryce grew up in Wayne manor, beside Bruce’s daughter Victoria, but when he started exhibiting his powers and his inability to properly control them, Bruce sent him to work with Diana Prince, so that she may help him hone his power and not use them for evil. Bryce returns to Gotham following Bruce Wayne’s death but is a completely different person from the one who had left the city. He found out the truth of his existence, that he’s not so much a human as a test subject and that’s sparked some anger in him.

Jared Joachim - Jared always had a hunch that there was something more to Bruce Wayne and when he was about 12 or 13 he snuck down into the Bat Cave and found out the truth. Promising to keep the secret, he began pursuing a career in engineering and mechanics, wanting more than anything to work with Batman and make new gadgets for him. After his father’s unfortunate death in Wayne Manor, supposedly at the hands of Batman himself, Jared lost his way and instead started working to make himself weapons and things that he could use to take revenge on Batman. When he returns to the states from Japan where he had been training in order to become strong enough to carry out his plan he finds out that Bruce has been killed and his daughter is now in control of the family business. He assumes that she is also going to take up the mantle of Batman but since he always loved Victoria, he cannot bring himself to do it.

Alfred Pennyworth - Alfred has been the butler for the Wayne family since Bruce was a young man and has watched him grow and change into the man he became, as well as watch over his daughter Victoria. He’s not just an “old man” as so many people believe but has been the mastermind behind the suit, the vehicles and most of the weapons, believing that it is still his mission to serve the family no matter how that turns out. When Jared rejoins them, Alfred begins using the younger man for his ideas and between the two of them, they prepare Victoria to deal with the villains “Collective”

@musesnotebook

#Tom Mison #Joaquin Phoenix #Joker #Two-face #Scarecrow #role play #Poison Ivy #Norman reedus #tom ellis #david tennant #jeremy irons #alfred pennyworth

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littleeyesofpallas · 4 years ago

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I don’t usually dwell on American cape comic shenanigans too much, because it’s a fast and loose kind of writing that doesn’t really play well with being scrutinized or really thought about at all, at least any longer than it takes to get through a page, but man... this whole Tynion IV Batman thing is still rubbing me the wrong way... and what bugs me is how it’s definitely not all “bad,” and in fact a lot of the build up is great, but then the resolutions (or lack there of) are massive let downs, but then also he keeps skirting by with these loose ends that feel like they weren’t forgotten but that they might get picked up later. It would almost suggest he has a real big picture planned as a through line across multiple stories...

So, when Tynion took over with issue 86 and Their Dark Designs, he actually provided a great premise: In the aftermath of City of Bane and Alfred Pennyworth’s death, Bruce muses over his apparent old habit of sketching himself little snapshots of an idealized Gotham he holds in his head. We have a clear establishment of the theme of Design, and also the idea that Bruce has an end game in mind. He’s not just reacting to crime as it happens, he has a long term plan. This is a genuinely good angle to have for a Batman story.

To build on this, we learn that Lucius is working on some new tech for Bruce and he specifically marvels at how far Bruce’s war on crime has escalated. The bat-gear hasn’t just been getting more sophisticated over the years, its development is beginning to outpace its practical applications.

Additionally, we get a weird kind of distraction of a B-plot with various master assassins convening in Gotham under a singular organized job, but among them the spotlight falls on Deathstroke. Does Tynion talk about Deathstroke being one of the classic anti-batmen? Does he talk about Deathstroke’s healing factor? No. He talks about Deathstroke’s augmented brain processing faster than Bruce can keep up with (a trait most authors tend to overlook with Slade); this means his only means of competing with Slade is to have a plan that puts him down before his super fast brain can think of a way out, because implicitly he will out think Batman given time, and if they’re both whittled down to adapting to one another in the moment, Slade wins.

Again, our theme is Master plans/Designs/end games.

Enter the heretofore unmentioned legendary, nigh mythical, Gotham villain named The Designer has reemerged after an indistinct time missing from the criminal underworld. His claim to fame is planning 20 steps ahead, outpacing his adversary’s planning to snub any and all resistance utterly and completely.

He’s brought up because he once mentored Penguin, Riddler, Catwoman, and Joker in their early days(and in their 90s era outfits as a clever reference) and apparently the master plans he devised with each of them that were never enacted have been queued up by “someone.” Designer is back, but he’s supposed to be dead; In a painfully uninteresting, cliche “twist” Joker was too KuHrAaZzY to handle and Designer turned on him rather than finish his tutelage, and in the ensuing firefight the 4 Gotham rogues killed the legendary Designer.

So, there are a lot of fun questions this raises, like who the apparent new Designer is, what his plan is, and what he wants...

Bruce has another run in with Slade and launches into an awkward, kinda whiny rant where he tells Slade that if only super villains hadn’t wasted so much of his time escalating the arms race of powers and gadgets and gimmicks, that he could have fixed Gotham years ago. So, here we are again, this idea of plans, of reactionary escalation, and of the absolute need for a master plan that snubs the opposition before they can react and learn. Batman beats Slade, of course, which just goes to show what we’re always meant to assume from Batman anyway, that he already had Slade beat from the get go. He had a plan; Batman always has a plan.

So this is super cool! It took us kind of a plodding 6 out of 9 issues of this story to get here, but this is a good place! We know Batman has a master plan for Gotham, we know from what we’ve heard about plans/Designs as a theme that means he’s already got all his villains accounted for, and that he’s just going through the motions: turning the wheels to make the machine work. It’s only a matter of time, now.

I’ll be honest, my thought at first when I was reading these? I thought The Designer was Batman, or some part of Batman’s plan. That he’d resurrected this mythical villain as part of his own master plan, to perhaps trick all his biggest adversaries to go all in on a singular massive criminal enterprise that Bruce had already designed from the get go to fail, and to take them all down with it once and for all. It fit the profiles, and it felt like the natural direction this all was headed...

But then it was just The Joker. Designer really was dead, Joker brought him back, stole his master plan and pulled it off himself. He stole Batman’s money and gadgets, and took over Gotham (again). That’s it. It was a 9 issue/4 month long fucking prologue to Joker War. And more importantly... NONE of these themes paid off, even a little... And to be fair, if these had turned into something to be addressed and resolved in Joker War, I might have been okay with it... But they weren’t...

Also there’s a (would be)great little moment towards the end here where we learn that The Designer’s original nemesis, a master detective whom he crushed and humiliated, once taught Bruce “how to lose.” And this went nowhere. But it could have been super interesting, because what exactly does that even mean? Does it mean learning to accept loss and move on? Does it mean letting the opponent’s plan succeed because if they put everything into the one plan, then it means they never actually had a follow through, so now the board is wiped clean and everyone’s back to square 1? What exactly was the point of bringing back the Designer’s legacy if we just learned that the real Designer wasn’t even the master mind of this whole story?

So then we meander into Joker War, curiosity still piqued, but expectations drastically lowered...

Joker has all Batman’s gadgets: that’s actually kind of cool. I like the idea of Joker having infinite resources and Batman being the one working underground. It’s kind of been done before in pieces, but never quite as explicit as this. It’s not genius, but its a solid premise. Joker goes on a meta-rant about people watching “the classics” over and over, and audiences being content to see the same old story, provided it’s done right. (A bold called shot, Tynion.)

And we glimpse the mysterious future Batsuit that apparently Bruce doesn’t remember designing. It’s kind of a throwback to the gray and blue look of the silver age Batman, when comics were a little more cheery and goofy and child friendly. It’s a nice commentary on the idea that Bruce wants to make Gotham into a better place, not where he doesn’t need to be Batman, but where he can be a less grim Batman. It speaks to Bruce’s character, his vision for Gotham, and Tynion’s nostalgia that is now being strongly established as a driving force of these stories...

Joker’s plan involves paying Gothamites, in the middle of this citywide takeover by clown gangs, to attend screenings of Zorro, at which point he’ll kill them walking out of the theaters. Batman shows up at one theater, fights some Joker zombie things, get gassed, gets rescued by Harley and given an antidote that induces a hallucination chat with Alfred.

Laughably, in this talk Bruce admits “I failed...” when talking about letting Alfred die and letting Joker take over the city but then hallucination Alfred talks Bruce OUT of it. So whatever it was Bruce learned about losing from the old detective, this apparently wasn’t it; this was the wrong kind of losing.

Joker mentions part of his plan was to make a new generation of heroes and villains with the massive shared trauma of the theater killings. We’d been seeing bits of Clown Killer, but that’s it. He actually seems pretty cool, but he wasn’t really doing much more than cameo in this. No new villains* actually, not until the epilogue gives us the anti-hero GhostMaker.

*correction: there are a few retroactively established villains who are new to publication, but no new villains born out of the actual Joker War scenario.

The whole Batfam shows up to wrestle clowns. For some reason Tynion or DC editorial in general went to GREAT lengths to contrive Dick being back in the old Nightwing outfit, Tim being Robin again, Cass and Steph being Batgirls, Babs being Oracle, and Damian having renounced the Robin title for this... They don’t do jack shit; They wrestle clown goons in the background.

Yet, again one of Joker’s stupid genius plans ends with a fist fight between a highly trained martial artist and a guy in a purple suit and we’re expected to be excited about this. Harley shows up to trick Bruce into leaving Joker to die, but of course he survives anyway...

So there are a few themes here that got heinously underutilized... Joker’s super into this self-aware thing about this being just another Batman-v-Joker affair, and about recreating Batman’s origin, and we see this play out on the other side with the weird walk back on the Batfam’s costumes. But we know Joker will lose, so ostensibly the bottom line here should be that, no, actually... doing the same old thing isn’t enough, and people aren’t as predictable as Joker thinks.

But if we’re acknowledging this idea that Batman-v-Joker is a thing that happens in cycles and it’s always kind of the same thing, and people are sick of it, then you know what one undeniable fact of continuity flies in the face of that? That no matter how many times we reboot the universe and repeat this whole song and dance, Batman keeps accumulating more sidekicks. I’d have loved if this whole thing had just climaxed with Joker “winning” in his over elaborate 1v1 grudge match only to have half a dozen extra bats bust in and kick his ass.

But more over, Batman NEVER had any sort of plan in this... The whole lead up in Their Dark Designs, which took LONGER to set up Joker War than Joker War actually lasted, was about Bruce having this Design for Gotham... And Joker War goes out of its way to remind us of this lingering concept, and doesn’t actually do anything with it, but tries to still dangle it over us, like... “oh no, we didn’t forget it, it’s just for later!” And like, I’m still kind of on board for it, but less and less so the more this shit drags out without any satisfying benchmarks along the way. And it’s just super frustrating to want to give Tynion credit for the genuinely good set up he seems to have here... Except is it still a “good setup” of it ends up not actually setting anything up? or if what it sets up turns out to be disappointing and bad??

It’s just really bizarre to me that I honestly kind of desperately want to like Tynion’s Batman (Clearly I’m having a fucking field day digging my teeth into it) but in spite of the good that’s there, and the clear forethought that appears to have gone into it, he keeps tripping himself up somehow.

#batman

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hollyhock13 · 6 years ago

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All I Want for Christmas is You

AN: This is for @nerdkate88‘s prompt “First Christmases / First Christmas traditions / How Christmas evolved for the Waynes” for the Batfam Christmas Stocking exchange on Tumblr and AO3. Special thanks to @ursapharoh05 for helping me get this done and presentable.

Alfred planned for this Christmas as any other. He, with his army of caretakers, bakers, decorators, and otherwise titled helpers, had once again transformed Wayne Manor into a cheerful vestibule of holiday cheer. Never mind that it had all gone to waste again this year.

He tries to banish that thought from his mind. No, he has done his job, and he has done it well. As valet to the only remaining Wayne, it is vital that he oversee the remaining details. The phone rings. He answers it as he has done so many times prior. The conversation with the planner executing this year’s charity gala goes exactly as expected, and Alfred rests the handset back in its cradle to end the call. He sighs as he mentally calculates the tasks that remain. Once, he had forgotten among the holiday to-dos to complete some of his less flashy but more important tasks. He doesn’t forget anymore.

As he adds “pay the party planner” to his list for tomorrow, the doorbell rings. Alfred reviews his list of expected personnel and finds he is quite correct in not expecting any until tomorrow at the earliest. Most don’t work on Christmas, regardless of religious affiliation, as it is a national holiday. Alfred hesitates just a moment before moving toward the door to peek out the window.

A huddled mountain of clothing and skin red from the cold greets his cautious eyes. Perhaps a homeless man or woman who has heard that the Waynes are kind to such persons down on their luck. Perhaps a criminal meaning to catch him off-guard and rob them blind. Or—he catches himself before he can dwell on that particular thought. This requires a decision, and a quick one. He makes up his mind and reaches for the lock. He is Alfred Pennyworth, of Her Majesty’s Special Forces. He can take any ruffian who might be at the door. He turns the handle and faces his unexpected guest.

A pair of familiar blue eyes blink down at him. “Alfred?”

“It can’t be.”

“It’s me.”

“You’ve grown.”

A half-sob and a laugh. “Yes. May I come in?”

Alfred steps to the side. “You may as well. It is your house, after all.”

The mountain of a human being that has revealed itself to be Bruce Wayne takes a step inside the door.

“May I take your coat, Sir?” Alfred asks his once-charge with a lump in his throat.

The smile that has been flirting with the corners of Master Bruce’s mouth flees. “I—. Yes, thank you. How—how have you been, Alfred?”

“My health has been adequate. And yours?” He doesn’t mention how he feels he has aged ten years for every moment his young charge had been gone.

“Mine has been the same.” Bruce doesn’t mention the scars that Alfred can see now litter his arms with the removal of his (inadequate) coat.

“Where have you been?” Alfred asks around the lump in his throat that has only grown.

“Everywhere,” Bruce replies. “I’ve set foot on every continent. I’ve learned languages and techniques from all over the world. I’ve eaten local foods in over a dozen different countries and not one of them can hold a candle to your cooking.”

Alfred doesn’t point out that most of their food is prepared by a professional chef. “Is that so, my boy?”

Bruce seems to crumble at the familiarity. “It’s true. I’ve learned hundreds of fighting techniques, but never to kill. I’ve got a plan, Alfred, to help the city.”

The butler gathers his boy into his arms. “Can it wait until after Christmas?”

“...Yes.” And it does.

Dick has never seen so many presents in his life. There’s gotta be a hundred, no, a THOUSAND of them! He stares at them for all of twenty seconds before he’s attempting to climb the pile.

“Master Richard, it will be much easier to open your gifts if you are not dependant on them for structural stability,” Alfred says.

Dick frowns and slides down the pile. “ My gifts? They’re not for everybody? What about you and Bruce?”

Alfred points to two much smaller piles under one of the smaller trees. “They wouldn’t fit under the tree,” he laments.

Dick is satisfied by this answer and goes back to ogling the mountain of presents instead. “How many do you think there are?” he asks in awe.

“Many. I do believe Santa got a little carried away this year.” Alfred and Bruce exchange a look that Dick doesn’t understand. “Shall we begin?”

Dick nods eagerly and the two men watch him tear into the shiny gift wrap. The pile of wrapping paper grows in proportion to the pile of unwrapped gifts.

Dick starts to wane about halfway through the enormous pile, so they take a break for hot cocoa (and coffee) with cookies and breakfast. Dick stuffs an entire handful of marshmallows into his mug. Alfred joins him in giggling at Bruce’s whipped cream mustache. The chocolate chip pancakes with a smiley face are the best thing he’s ever seen!

The rest of the presents are unwrapped quickly without much attention paid to what is inside.

Long after the pile of presents has been exhausted, Dick climbs into Bruce’s lap. “Bruce?”

“Yeah, Chum?”

“Thanks.”

“Sure, Chum.”

The sniffle is unexpected, and Dick tries to play it off.

“Chum? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just got a cold.” It’s a lie and they both know it.

“Did you not get something you wanted?” Bruce asks quickly.

“No, it’s not that.” Another sniffle escapes, then a sob. “Do you still miss yours?” Dick asks before he can stop himself.

Bruce takes a moment to think. “Yes,” he answers honestly, “every day, but especially for big moments like this. But it gets easier after a while.”

Dick turns his face into Bruce’s shoulder to muffle the next sob. “I want them back!” he cries. “I don’t want it to be easier, I want them back!”

“I know.” The day doesn’t get any easier, but they do manage to enjoy some of it. Dick goes to bed with one of his new stuffed animals tucked under his arm, and one of his old ones tucked under the other.

The best thing about Christmas is the food, Jason thinks. Cookies and turkey and ham and pie and mashed potatoes and as much gravy as he can fit on his plate make for a happy boy. Even better, though, are the abundance of fruit and vegetables. Everything from corn, peas, and green beans to oranges, apples, and pomegranates! If he tries, he thinks he can put every color in the world on his plate. He’s even pretty sure that Alfie will let him if he wants to try. He takes some of everything, and he refuses to leave the table until he’s finished his plate, though not for lack of trying on Bruce’s part.

“Jay-lad! Don’t you want to come play with some of these?”

A shake of his head. There’s collard greens too!

“My boy! Look at this helicopter!”

Oh ho ho! There’s a whole drumstick left! Score!

Bruce sighs in defeat.

Jason is starting to slow down, but he's still eating even though he’s starting to think he's going to make himself sick. And then he takes a bite of the cauliflower. He makes a face, gags, and takes another bite.

“Jay, if you don't like it you don't have to finish it.”

Jason nods and takes another painful bite.

“Jay, nothing bad is going to happen if you don't eat the cauliflower.”

“What if we get hungry later and I didn't eat it and it goes to waste?” Jason demands.

“Then we'll get some different food,” Bruce replies. “There will never be a shortage of food in this house.

“But mom says…” the boy trails off and clamps his mouth shut.

“What does your mom say?”

“She says to eat when we got food. To save the cans and stuff for when it's bad, but never let it go to waste.”

“That's a good philosophy, buddy, but the truth is that we made enough so that we could have leftovers. There's no way we can eat it all tonight.”

“Then what are we going to do with it?!” Jason demands, surveying the feast.

“We're going to wrap it up and put it in the fridge and the freezer to keep it good,” Bruce assures. “It will be almost as good as if we ate it right this second and it keeps us from getting too full.”

“How can you be sure the electricity will stay on, though?” Jason demands.

“Because we pay our bill in full and on time every month. It won't be a problem.”

“Mom said she payed it sometimes too, and then the lights went out anyway.” Jason stares at the remaining mound of food on his plate as frustrated tears leak from his eyes.

“How about we put it in the freezer? That way, if the power does go out, we can get it connected again before it thaws completely.”

Alfred nods in agreement when Jason looks at him for confirmation. Jason nods slowly. “Okay.”

“Alright, let's get some of those leftover containers. Do you know where they are?” Bruce asks Jason.

He shakes his head and Alfred steps in. “Allow me, young masters.”

Alfred disappears for a few minutes and returns with stacks of Tupperware. “Shall I inform you how to fill these properly?” He asks.

Bruce and Jason both nod. After a quick demonstration, the younger ones start enthusiastically filling containers. The mountain of containers is a mountain of packaged food in under a half hour. Bruce and Jason are very pleased with themselves as they ferry food to the chest freezer that Alfred keeps for such occasions. Jason warms up a little after that.

Her funeral was held on Christmas Eve, and her husband wasn’t there.

Tim doesn't cry at the funeral, or when they get home. He goes to bed.

Dick spends the night at the manor, though whether he's there for Tim or Bruce is anyone's guess.

Christmas morning dawns quietly at Wayne Manor, with nobody up and about, not even Alfred. Tim wakes first, as the others stayed up for patrol. He doesn't want to encounter anyone, so instead of heading for the tree and the gifts piled there he turns toward the kitchen for a glass of water and maybe some toast.

It takes him a moment to find a glass, and then another to find bread and a toaster. He's never been in this kitchen without another person before, and it seems colder, more clinical than it ever had before. Tim realizes he doesn't want to be alone. He leaves the bread toasting in the toaster and heads back up the stairs.

Tim pauses at the top. He'd been seeking company, but he realizes now that he's not sure whose company he should be seeking. Bruce is not someone he wants to disturb for any reason. Alfred works so hard all the time, he doesn't want to disturb his rest. And Dick, he hardly knows Dick for all that he's admired him from afar for so long. He stands there, paralyzed by indecision and what feels like tears building in his eyes. “Why now?” Tim mutters to himself as he presses his hands to his eyes.

“Tim?” Asks a voice from somewhere beyond the colors blooming against his eyelids.

He drops his hands instantly to see Dick Grayson bending to look him in the eyes. “You alright, kiddo?”

Tim nods woodenly.

Dick offers him a soft smile. “You know, I've always found that opening gifts is a pretty good way to distract myself from the unpleasantness in the world, at least for one morning.”

Tim takes the suggestion as what it is: a tentative offer for some comfort through material things. He nods.

Dick's smile gets a hundred times brighter, but before Tim can regret agreeing to this odd form of retail therapy, Dick has taken him by the arm and dragged him into Bruce's room without knocking.

“Psst. Bruce. It's Christmas.”

Bruce checks the alarm clock on the table with the one eye he's cracked open at the stage whisper. “I'm tired, Dick. We can start Christmas later.”

“Tim's here too.”

That gets a bigger reaction. Bruce rolls over to squint at the two of them. Tim thinks that he must look really quite pathetic because Bruce sighs and begins making motions to get up. “Fine. I'll be down in ten minutes. Don't bother Alfred if you don't have to.”

Dick chirps, “Okay!”

He drags Tim out of Bruce's room and back to the room where he had spent the night. “If you want to be wearing any clothes for the rest of the day, now is the time.”

Tim blinks at that declaration. Where might they be going? Are they planning to stay here? He chews on his lip for a moment. Maybe this is a trick question and they really spend all morning in pajamas. He decides on putting on a warm hoodie over the top of his pajamas. He turns back to Dick, who is still grinning like he's won the lottery. Although, Tim thinks, considering the house they're both in, he kind of has.

Dick quite literally pulls him out of his thoughts by taking his arm and tugging him toward the stairs. “Come on, it'll be fun! Promise.”

Bruce steps out of his room looking very tired. Tim is immediately hit by guilt that effectively knocks him out flat. Dick must notice something, because he turns to Tim with concern in his eyes.

“You okay, Timbo?”

That, of course, makes Bruce turn to survey him, and Tim is positive he can see every feeling Tim's ever hidden written right there in his face. Tim nods to try and escape this scrutiny, but they only redouble their efforts.

Bruce finally asks, “What is wrong, Tim? Did Dick pressure you into this?”

Dick squawks at the accusation but ultimately doesn't speak. Tim shakes his head.

“I'm sorry we woke you up,” he says instead, “I know you had a late night.”

Bruce frowns. “You're fine,” he says. “You can always come to me.”

“I--you're so busy, it's not--”

“I'll always have time for you, Tim. Would you like to go downstairs?”

Tim nods. “Yeah, I'd like that.”

Damian is sulking. He admits it only in his head, but he's quite certain this is what the word means.

Richard is definitely sulking. He is upset that his so called family are scattered around the globe: Cain in Hong Kong, Drake in Paris the last they had heard, and Todd wreaking havoc in Gotham but refusing any and all attempts at reconciliation (ridiculous though Damian himself may find the concept) and Father… Father is dead. Damian tries not to dwell.

He goes back to his sulking instead. This is the most ridiculous holiday he has ever encountered. Who makes a holiday based around family and gifts when there are people who have neither? Damian scowls. This is ridiculous indeed.

Grayson intrudes upon Damian's bedroom to greet him. “Hi Li'l D. You ready for presents?”

Damian scowls again. “I am not. I did not realize I was expected to give you gifts in return,” he admits. “I have no such offering for you or Pennyworth.” His cheeks burn.

Grayson doesn't miss a beat. “That's alright, little D. I've gotten a lot of presents in my day. Maybe I can take you out shopping tomorrow for a present for Alfred in any case.”

Damian nods slowly. If he plans it correctly, he may also be able to pick a gift for Grayson. “That would be acceptable.”

Grayson gives him another one of his large grins. “Great! Then come on down!”

Damian follows Grayson's bounds at a much slower pace. He is quite certain that the man is performing for his sake, as he knows he had been upset to be rebuffed by his siblings. Damian scowls again. Why had no one told him about the traditions of this holiday? If he had known he would at least have had a gift to offer Grayson as poor restitution.

Damian looks up as they enter the entry hall. He knows the large tree would only fit in this open area before the stairs where the ceiling doesn't close them in (it's a three story room), but he hadn't realized the space would be required for the mountains of gifts that had somehow been acquired without his knowledge. The wrapping paper shines in the light from the tree.

Grayson nudges him with a grin. “It's pretty, right, Damian?”

Damian closes his mouth with a snap. “Tt. It is acceptable.” He regrets his words when it makes the smile on Grayson's face fade. He turns to look at the gifts again to assuage his guilt. “To whom are these addressed?” He asks instead of trying to apologize. That urge is just weakness, he reminds himself.

“Well, some are for me, and some are for Alfie, and there are some for Cass and Tim when they get home, and a couple for Jason in case he decides to show up and a few for Babs and one or two for Stephanie…” Dick smiles at Damian's impatient scowl. “But the majority are for you.”

“Of course,” Damian sniffs, “you would be lost without me.”

“Absolutely,” Grayson agrees. “You ready to get started then?”

Damian nods, and they begin.

It's been a long year, Bruce thinks.

Although, now that he thinks about it, it's been several long years. Probably more than ten long years. He's quite certain he didn't know what he was thinking when he took in one child, let alone the FIVE who are now terrorizing what was supposed to be his lazy Christmas morning.

“Damian, give that back! It's mine and you know it!”

“It was not addressed to anyone, Drake! Grayson has informed me that that means it is a family gift!”

“It only didn't have a name because it was from Cass!”

A wrestling match breaks out on the other side of the room. He's not entirely sure who is involved until Cass emerges the victor with Dick pinned to the ground. She grins and doesn't let him up until he looks properly defeated to her own inscrutable standards.

Jason is tossing popcorn at Damian while he yells at Tim, attempting, as far as Bruce can tell, to get it to land in his hair. Damian whirls on him when a kernel lands in his ear. Jason is tackled and Tim takes the opportunity to snatch the gift that Damian had been trying to claim off the floor.

Alfred approaches from the kitchen with a tray full of breakfast, which he passes off to the swarm of children. There is not a crumb left by the time it gets to Bruce. He groans. “What have I done to deserve kids like this?” He asks in a tone dangerously close to a whine.

“Oh, I don't think that is a question you want to ask, Master Bruce. The real question is, what have I done to deserve this?” The question is said lightly, almost laughing so Bruce thinks it's a joke.

A wrapped gift hits Bruce right in the belly and it isn't soft. “Hey! You next, old man!” Jason shouts across the room. The other kids stop fighting and gather around to watch.

Bruce opens the gift with the wariness of someone expecting a prank. The kids goad him on with cheers and shouts which do not ease his worry.

The paper is removed to reveal a small box with a well-known jewelry company logo stamped across it. He lifts the lid to see the ugliest watch on which he's ever laid eyes. He lifts it out of the package, not sure if this is some kind of mistake or joke. But...Jason likes that style of watch band, and Damian would have insisted on the Roman Numerals on the face. Cass must have picked the garish gemstones and Dick would have liked the hideous color combinations. He flips it over. There's Tim, in the practicality of a waterproof, atomic, and, he's certain, tech-infused watch.

Bruce's eyes water. These are his kids, how could he have been complaining? It's still a hideous watch, but it was a gift. From and of his children. Speaking of his children…

“Well?”

“Does he like it?”

“I can’t tell. Do you like it, old man?”

“It's ugly! I can't believe we've given Father an unattractive watch! Father, I shall punish them all for their disgusting choices!”

“Damian, I love it. Please don't hurt your siblings. Thank you. All of you. It's the best Christmas present I could have received.” He turns away to keep the happy tears in his eyes from leaking out. He's content for almost thirty seconds.

The silence is broken with a vengeance.

“Pay up, you cowards!” Jason crows. “I told you we could make him cry by giving him an ugly watch! You all owe me fifty bucks! Except Cass, who you also owe fifty bucks.”

The other three boys groan. “I thought you meant tears because it was so ugly!” Dick complains.

“Yeah, since when do sappy tears count?” Tim whines.

Damian breaks in with, “The tears never fell! You are claiming a false victory!”

Another fight breaks out and Bruce sighs. What did he do to deserve children like this?

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