#BABY JAY BABY TIMMY AND SOFT!GOOD DAD!BRUCE UP NEXT

[schweeeppess]

listen to my aching heart

__

“God,” Dick yawned, covering his mouth with a hand. “My first day back on Earth and all I wanna do is sleep.”

He paused.

“Does that make me sound old?”

Jason snorted, taking a bite out of his burger.

“Ya been old, Dickface,” Jason said through his mouthful of food. “Sorry t'break it ta ya.”

“Chew first, then talk, Jay.” Dick leaned back in his seat, taking a long sip of his lemonade as he flashed Jason a quick smile.

If you asked him, Dick would immediately tell you that—for him—being a Blue Lantern was great. He represented hope; he got to spread it and literally glow the color around the galaxy.

It was wonderful.

But, sometimes while he was out with the stars, he did miss home. He missed Bruce when he wasn’t with him, yes, but he mostly missed Jason and Tim and Ms. Esther from across the hall.

Even when he was around on Earth he wasn’t really there. Space was tiring, and when he came home it was to rest.

Today, though, was a day with Jason.

So. Burgers.

Jason rolled his eyes and made a point to make sure he looked Dick in the eyes as he swallowed his food, opened his mouth, and stuck his tongue out to reveal he'd finished eating.

“Happy?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Smugly, Dick answered, “Very.”

Jason sighed as Dick chuckled, throwing a fry at Dick's forehead.

“Ya always busy on Lantern busin'ss,” Jason whined, leaning his cheek on his fist. “An’ when ya finally home, ya lectur' me ‘n my manners.”

Raising a brow, Dick retaliated by flicking one of his fries at Jason, and commented, “I'm not always busy.”

Jason snorted, dipping the fry into his milkshake with his free hand. “Yeah ya are. Ya got Roy, ya got Wally, ya got work, ya got work, and ya sleep!”

Dick frowned a little. He didn’t spend that much time away from his family, did he? He didn’t remember Bruce ever being as occupied as Jason made Dick sound, and they did similar things.

Well, Bruce didn’t really have many friends outside the corps... But then that would be implying Bruce had friends in his corps…

Dick's frown deepened.

Satisfied he’d made his point clear, Jason sat up and went back to his burger and fries.

Unhappy with the new information he’d received, Dick pushed his thoughts away to focus instead on surrounding conversations. Jason was eating, Dick had stuff lingering on his consciousness, and they both needed a few minutes.

The people in the booth behind him were talking about college. One of them was getting increasingly concerned over their financial aid, their voice getting a little panicked the more they spoke, and Dick was ready to turn around and offer some reassurance when the two others spoke up and comforted their friend.

Satisfied with that situation, Dick went back to ignoring it, letting other conversations process.

Jason tapped his hand and Dick blinked, snapping out of his head to focus on Jason.

His little brother took a bite out of his fry, then nodded over to the table to their right, giving Dick and his ring a very pointed look.

Tilting his head, Dick looked over to the table Jason had pointed out.

A father and his kids were in discussing their meal options and, at first, Dick was confused as to why Jason had implied something to do with the ring and the family.

He shot Jason a questioning glance and his little brother held up a finger.

Wait. Yeah, fine, Dick could do that.

So he did, returning his attention to the family.

“Dad, why're we only getting one burger?” one of the kids—no older than eight, maybe—whined, tugging a bit at her father’ shirt. “M'hungry.”

The father gave his daughter a tight smile, replying, “Money's tight, baby. I can’t afford anything more than a burger and your lemonades.”

An ache started deep in Dick's heart, and his face pinched in pain at what he was hearing. He refocused on Jason, who looked far too sullen to have had the pleasure of not experiencing a similar situation, and squeezed one of his little brother's hands.

“But dad,” the son said, earnestness in his voice, “it's my birthday.”

“I know, Bobby.” The father sighed, his shoulders dropping a little, and said, “It’s why we’re here.”

His kids seemed disappointed, but Dick could see how hard the situation was hitting the father himself. He could see the depressed set to the man's shoulder; the pain in his smile.

“I know we ain’t got much,” Jason mumbled, drawing Dick’s attention. His little brother was staring at what he still had on his plate, hands in his lap, and Dick tried to avoid thinking about how many times this scene must have played out in Jason’s life as Jason continued. “But… Big Bird, we can’t do nothin’.”

Dick cracked a smile, lifting his arm to show off his bracelet. “Blue Lantern, Jay, remember?”

Lowering his wrist and biting his lip, Dick took out his wallet and pulled out the bills he had on him.

Being part of the Lantern Corps didn’t pay. Being a hero didn’t pay at all, if what he'd heard from the others in the League was true (which he didn’t doubt it was). Frankly part of being a hero meant not getting anything in return for helping.

So his actual paying job was… Pretty shitty. He worked two jobs, actually, despite what Jason seemed to think. Bartending paid a few bills. Being a waiter for a prestigious restaurant helped pay the rest of his bills and food.

Which was a long way to say that Dick was barely scraping by, and he didn’t have much money to spare.

He had a twenty in his wallet, about four singles, and a nickel.

“Hell,” he muttered.

Taking a long breath, Dick looked at Jason. Jason, who looked both pissed off at his food and pained at the same time. His little brother.

Dick collected his bearings and stood, walking over to the table.

“Hey guys,” he greeted easily as he approached, smiling.

The little girl pointed her fork at him, squinting. “Who're you?”

Dick stopped when he was beside their table and considered his answer. “I'm nobody important, really,” he settled on. “I just…”

Fuck. He didn’t think about what he’d say to explain himself.

“Can we help you?”

Oh-ho, the dad sounded a little (very) guarded.

People skills, why do thou forsaketh me now?

Sighing, Dick's shoulders slumped a little as he held his hand out, the money held tight in his fist.

“Just a birthday present,” he said as he handed the cash off to the very confused father. “Things were rough for someone close a while ago.”

Dick smiled at the father's wide eyes. “I hope this can buy you a cake, maybe a little present.”

“What…” The father looked from the money up at Dick, then back again. “How can I repay you for this?”

When the man met Dick's gaze again, Dick's smile widened a little.

“Just have some hope,” he said. “Things will get better.”

[iphoenixrising]

Batfamily Big Bang Day 3: Fight!

Heh. That’s all I have to say. Other than: Warning, Fake Character Death. Read at your own risk :D

Summary: the Bats have a plan.

**

Of all the ways he’s imagined going out, this is certainly not one of them.

The muted quality of Nightwing’s voice passes in and out while he’s helpless to do anything more than watch. His body moves smoothly, with finesse he used to have back in the old Robin days, back when he could afford the extra flare, when it was just part of his style being the flashier sidekick to the Dark Knight. The kind of thing he dropped when he lost the tunic and had to change it up a little.

So of course Nightwing and Red Hood would notice something off from the get-go.

There’d been no time after his tangle with Lonnie Manchin, who was on the bad side of the line, armed with a little something left from the Calculator, a device from the Unternet with more mind control powers than a fucked-up digital world.

As he predicted, it took his vigilante significant others about ten seconds to realize something was very wrong before patrol even started.

“Hard week with Super Brats, Baby Bird?” Was muted and cottony, nothing to do with the synths, but because of the Bluetooth device he’d mistakenly put in his ear.

“You seem a little off, Red. Want to talk about it before we go stomp bad guys?”

And even though he can’t move a muscle, can only be helpless watching his body move, he still tries to yell, to scream, to do something when the inevitable, “Red Robin. Attack!” triggers his muscles to tighten for go time. He lashes out, hits a pressure point in N’s chest and knocks him right over the edge of the roof without a hitch, and turns on Hood next, a well-aimed gut shot, followed with a little elbow to the back, puts his boyfriend on the ground. In the same breath, he’d pulled one of the .45s, and holds it like he intends to use it.

His hand gives an obvious wobble, but a gloved finger is on the trigger.

“Why? Fuck, Red, why?” Is the first clear thing he’s heard in the last few hours since he put the damn thing in his ear in Titan’s Tower and made his way to Gotham for whatever plan Lonnie had that needed to hijack his body.

Still, even Jay's voice isn't enough to shake him free and some part of him dies inside...

...when he pulls the trigger.

**

He’s heading out of Gotham on a stolen Ducati N probably drove. he’d found it by the side of the Wallstone after Lonnie ordered him to check on the body lying in the alleyway, silent and still. The precursory hit paralyzed his other boyfriend, unable to save himself from the fall.

The real bitch of it is, he can’t even fucking cry.

But he’s hitting the Cave while his chest aches and his body won’t stop moving because this is far from over.

B is mid-stretch when his leg is thrown over the bike, and his hips roll with the first few strides, warming up for the next move.

Don’t make me do this. Please, fuck, please Lonnie, don’t make me do this.

“Drake.”

He screams inside his own head when Dami falls in stride with him, going over some report from the Tower that intersects with a case Young Justice is working.

Dami who is nineteen and so much a mix of Bruce and Talia, sharp jaw and big hands, a smirk for his secret smile–

No. NO!

“Tim?”

He pivots the moment they start passing the line of glass cases, old memories, and grips his Robin by the shoulders for a rapid hip throw to put his last boyfriend through two glass cases without body armor.

The splash of blood is only in his warbled periphery because Lonnie knows he needs to get to B fast enough to still work the element of surprise.

It comes in the form of Hood’s .45 still in his belt, raising while he runs, while he screams, while he can’t look the fuck away.

He can feel the trigger, the recoil, but can't fit the life of him stop it.

The blood blossoms immediately on Bruce’s chest, his eyes wide and shocked before his knees buckle, and he’s trying to get in his last breaths.

His eyes are so fucking blue in the fleeting last glance of his mentor, his dad alive, and Red Robin moves to the Batcomputer’s big screen, and fishes something out of a pocket in his utility belt. Even though his body is physically calm, his heart is racing, copper in the back of his mouth, hacking into the Admin account under Bruce to get unrestricted access. The device is applied by his hands and a download starts.

“The butler is the last one,” is from his own mouth, muted and wrong and fuck, we didn’t think of Alfred, did we?

The question in his head, Lonnie’s distorted voice, is enough to trigger the trap:

“We?”

From out of the shadows, Hood swoops in and knocks the gun out of his hand while N tackles his body from the side. Robin jumps in to pin his legs while B launches himself to the computer and runs the reverse-trace they need to find Lonnie’s systems and blow the whole thing. It’ll give the monitoring Titans some coordinates and a little excuse for crime-fighting time.

The debacle gives him enough control to clench his hands into fists where he’s held down at every limb, and be utterly fucking grateful everyone is just that good at acting when the situation calls.

Of course, making sure Hood had a side-arm with blanks, N would have an extra grapple attached to his back, Robin’s increased weight would throw him off enough to avoid getting hurt since a well-thrown Bat-a-rang would be the real culprit taking out the glass cases, and B would wear a vest with exploding blood pack to make everything look as authentic as possible, was really good planning on everyone’s parts.

“Titans are on point,” B is saying in his dark Batman voice and a gloved hand is reaching for the Bluetooth device in his ear.

“S’ a hell of a plan, Timmy. Ya did good, Baby,” is more clear and concise. The helmet is already off then.

But he’s shaking like a leaf the second his body is his own again, eyes getting heavy and hot even though it didn't really happen. It didn't happen.

He’d known it could get bad once Lonnie had control of him, but they all agreed they could handle it the same way Bats always do–

With a plan

Still, bile is rising up in his throat and his heart is at about a thousand beats per minute. His muscles respond sloppily, palms braced on the Cave floor, and his brain is still signalling error error error.

Pieces of his suit are discarded, domino pulled off so his pupils can be checked and someone makes a choked noise because his face is wet under the mask. The bodysuit is just suddenly unzipped and a cold disc on his chest, bare hands in his, another in his hair lightly scraping his scalp. Calls across the Cave while Alfred checks him out and B runs the take-down from the computer. Awareness comes in through the panic, and his grip tightens, eyes move between all of them to assure himself they’re all still alive.

The nails against his scalp register, so the real world is finally coming back, beating out the panic because obviously, he has things to do on the crime-fighting side of things rather than the bad guy killing everyone he loves side.

“Hey, starting to come back, Tim?” Dick winks and fuck he’s beautiful.

“S’all copasetic,” Jay is grinning down at him, left-over fake blood all over his suit. Some kind of noise works itself out of him just at the sight.

“Look at me,” is Dami looming over him, soft green eyes that are so adorably concerned. “Please say something, Habibi.”

And for the men in his life?

“L...Love you…all of you...”

Is about all they need.