#Batman who immediately goes into dad mode: no no no! you’re a good person. You’re helping us take apart the machines

[noxcheshire]

The Batfam: you live like this???

Danny: hey, I don’t go breaking into your home and tell you how you should sort your furniture. That’s rude.

I’m just imagining Danny being picked up, like how he always is in the show, weighing absolutely nothing, by one of the Batfam members and them being high key concerned.

Why does he weigh nothing? Why can I feel his rib cage? Is my hand supposed to wrap around this part of the body so easily? ARE YOU EATING?

They just completely forget for one good second they should be questioning this teenager in favor of getting food into him. When they do, the chain of command has already fallen apart and one side wants to immediately feed Danny while the other side wants to at least get a few answers BEFORE feeding Danny.

Danny is being held in a protective hug in Nightwing’s arms. It is a very warm hug that reminds him of Jazz. He leans into the hug.

“But he’ll die from starvation before we’ll even get an answer from him!” Nightwing reasons, bringing Danny sharply back to the reality of why he was being currently cradled by a vigilante.

Danny doesn’t say a word though, mostly because he’s still riding off the high of whatever chemical made it’s way into his system, but mainly because if Nightwing wins this argument then Danny gets free food.

He wants free food.

So there they now all are, inside the Batburger where they are herding a bleary eyed Danny into a booth and watching this kid squint at the ceiling like it’s his first time outside in a long while.

imagine with me Danny ends up in Gotham some how and is a mad scientist that is hired to make cool shit and gets BANK but then the bats crack down on the shit and they see a 13 year old boy with big ass goggles with machinery all around him and looks up for a second before glancing up again as if confirming what he saw and then slowly turns around “Hi…? I swear if these are one of my delusions than I will be complaining to HR- wait am I… HR?”

Danny ends up in Gotham after Nasty Burger happened, but to not become Dark Danny, he buried himself in machine work, using some blueprints from his parents' lab as a baseline and then eventually creating his own.

Some guy in Gotham found him one day and decided that he had a talent for making stuff like this, and that he'll pay Danny handsomely if he made some things for him, and, well. Danny was pretty low on money from his parents' bank account after blowing most of it on machine parts.

So he accepted.

Then the guy started requesting some other things for some other people and he eventually became his middleman for the big hitters in Gotham who wanted his stuff. Well, not that he knew his stuff was being given out to the big hitters that also include villains, since he spent most of his time just building, then eating, then passing right the fuck out, and repeat.

Then the bats crack down on him, and Danny's been making some shit for more than 24 hours already with no rest time and just a little snack here and there, and then he questions if he accidently inhaled something he wasn't supposed to because the bats are literally in his workshop/house.

So he thinks he maybe high as shit right now and then just treats them like they weren't there and goes back to making his thing because that one guy said a person with a fuck ton of money wanted it. Then Batman pulls him away from the machine and he's like: "Huh."

Still thinking this is a massive hallucination because he's high as a kite, he tries to get Batman to let go, but his grip is pretty strong, then he pokes him and then goes: "Oh, maybe this isn't a hallucination."

"Oh sugar honey iced tea."

[odos-bucket]

So I was reading @andillwriteyouatragedy​‘s incredible Brand New Day where Bruce and Clark adopt a young Dick Grayson together, and was thinking about a sort of companion story where they take in Jason together too. Using that story as a rough reference, I’m gonna say they’ve been together for a decade or so here. Dick is somewhere in his late teens. I’m figuring Clark probably offers to tag along on Bruce’s annual trip to crime alley every year. Bruce always politely declines. It’s basically become a part of the day’s bleak tradition. Clark is surprised when for once his offer is accepted. Later on, if pressed, neither of them would be able to pinpoint what was different about that night that made Bruce decide that it might be okay to have some company for once. Clark probably feels weird about it at first. Even though he’d asked Bruce if he wanted company, and Bruce had said yes, which he never would have unless he’d absolutely meant it (and Clark knows that). It still feels a little like he’s intruding on something private, even sacred. Then of course they get there, and there’s nothing going on. Superman’s senses don’t pick up the slightest hint of disruption anywhere in the neighborhood. Maybe they start patrolling around it anyways, maybe they just wander for a couple of blocks. Sooner or later they overhear someone talking about how it’s this night every year that Batman comes calling. Local criminals have picked up on the fact that if they just keep their heads down for this one specific night they can pretty much avoid him. Bruce is all grumbly about it, and immediately goes into ~strategy mode~ like, “Okay, I’ll have to start coming here on different days, on an irregular schedule.” He immediately opens up a dozen different tabs in his brain with calendars, and crime statistics, and is thinking a mile a minute, because that’s what he does. He’s kind of agitated about needing to change something that’s been a ritual for so long (because Batman has OCD, fight me) and he’s annoyed at himself for being bothered by it. Absolutely none of this sudden inner turmoil is detectable in his expression or body language. But Clark knows Bruce, knows how he reacts to things, and that there’s no way he’s not annoyed right now. He says, “Sounds like tonight will be a bust if we stay here,” then when Bruce grunts in response, continues, “We could go back to the manor. Watch a movie.” Then after a pause. “Or we could patrol somewhere else.” A moment passes. When Bruce says, “Okay,” Clark isn’t sure which suggestion he’s agreeing to, but they start back towards the car. It’s not a long walk, but they aren’t moving particularly quickly. By the time they get back to the batmobile it only has one wheel.

Clark frowns as he walks closer, before being stopped in his tracks by a surprising sound. It’s a sound that he recognizes immediately, that he hears all too infrequently. Bruce is laughing. Clark’s mouth quirks into a half smile. He takes a few steps forward, thinking about just picking the whole thing up and flying it back home. Then from a few paces ahead he hears Bruce’s low, gravelly Batman voice say, “Hi there.” Once he’s tuned in to the idea of another presence nearby, it becomes obvious to his advanced senses that someone is lurking behind the car. “Shit,” a small voice says. Bruce takes a few steps closer. “Planning on finishing the job?” He gestures to their remaining wheel. Clark shifts until he can get the kid partially in his sight without the aid of x-ray vision. He’s small, and looks to be somewhere in his pre-teens. “I got no idea what you’re talking about,” he says quickly. “Oh really?” Bruce asks. The boy glares at him. “Nice tire iron,” Bruce continues. “Comes in handy.” “I bet it does.” No sooner than the words are out of Bruce’s mouth, the tool is colliding with his shin. The boy shoots out from behind the car, and down a nearby street. Clark starts toward Bruce, who quickly gestures for him to go after the kid instead. He catches up with him in less than a second. When his hand falls onto the kid’s shoulder he freezes, muscles tightening throughout his body, and heart rate speeding up rapidly. The fear response is so sudden and extreme that Clark finds himself pulling away as if he’s been burned. The anxiety around being feared is something he’s mostly left in his past, but there’s a deep rooted insecurity within him that it still prods at. The kid stumbles when he starts to run again, and by then Bruce has caught up. They hang back, but trail after the boy at a distance, until they reach a condemned building a few blocks away. “Should we go in?” Clark asks. “Probably where my tires are,” Bruce says, before climbing through an uncovered doorway. It isn’t hard to find him again. There aren’t too many heartbeats in the area to distinguish between. When Bruce opens the door to the dilapidated room, the boy’s pulse rate jumps through the roof. Nothing changes externally about him though, and Clark wonders whether or not Bruce can tell that he’s afraid of them. There’s the slightest vibration to his words when he speaks. “Okay, take your stupid tires already. I’m sorry, all right? Just leave me alone!” Bruce isn’t looking at his tires. He’s looking around the room, no doubt noticing the same things that Clark has, mold, water damage, a broken window. The place is freezing. Then in the corner there’s a cardboard box with some pasta and canned goods in it, a small stack of books, and a mattress on the floor. “Do you… live here?” Bruce asks. “Yeah. What of it?” Bruce takes a few more steps into the room. “Where are your parents, son?” Clark asks. “Mom’s dead. I dunno where Dad is; don’t really care, if I’m being honest. Now take your stuff and go already!” He’s holding the iron up again, wielding it in a manner that’s clearly meant to be threatening. Bruce plucks it out of his hands with relative ease, inspects it, then turns it around and hands it back. “Move your thumb up like this, and you’ll have a sturdier grip. And don’t stand with your legs so far apart, it’ll put you off balance.” He sighs. “What’s your name?” “… Jason.” He grabs the tire iron back, shuffling to adjust his grip and footing, keeping his stance defensive. Bruce looks around the place again. “You can’t stay here, Jason.” “Oh yeah? Says who? I can take care of myself! Been doing it for long enough.” Bruce glances up at Clark, who can see the wheels turning in his head, before looking back at Jason. “I’d really like the wheels of my car back,” he says carefully, then hurries to continue before Jason can interject. “Can I make you a deal? We’ll buy you dinner if you reattach the batmobile’s tires?”

There’s a fast food place a couple of blocks away that’s open 24 hours. Jason agrees to accompany them, but walks a few yards behind. The employees at the place aren’t at all phased by the appearance of the two vigilantes. Bruce inspects a suspicious stain on one of the walls, while Jason and Clark look at the menu posted above the counter. They order- Bruce gets two of what Jason asks for- then go outside to eat. Bruce is lost in thought as they exit the restaurant, wondering what it would take to bring free food trucks to the area. Jason’s halfway done with his meal by the time they sit down on the sidewalk. “Do you go to school around here?” Bruce asks, wanting to put together a fuller picture of the boy’s situation. Jason gets a distant look in his eyes in response to the question. He finishes chewing slowly, swallows, then shakes his head, clearing his throat before replying. “No. Not for a long time now.” He shrugs. “I got all I needed to out of it.” “You had some pretty advanced reading material back at your place for someone who didn’t finish middle school.” Bruce recalled seeing The Odyssey amongst his few possessions, as well as a couple of Shakespeare plays. Jason shrugs again. “Reading’s not that hard.” “Some people find it very difficult,” Clark says. “Some people are stupid.” Bruce cuts in before Clark can start on the gentle reprimand he can see him preparing. “Ever think that maybe you’re just smart?” Jason gives him a curious look, like that really wasn’t a possibility that he had considered before, then takes another bite, and stares off thoughtfully. “So, Homer,” Bruce prompts. Jason nods. “It’s a fun story. Odi-seuss is a dick though.” Bruce resists both the compulsion to correct his pronunciation of ‘Odysseus’, and Alfred’s voice in the back of his head urging him to tell the kid not to swear. “What makes you say that?” He asks instead. Jason looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe all the pillaging, and murdering he does throughout the entire book.” “Poem,” Bruce corrects. “What?” “The Odyssey is a poem.” “Wait, really?” Bruce hums an affirmative. “Huh… cool. But the point still stands.” “I’m inclined to agree with you. Have you ever read The Scarlet Pimpernel?” Jason shakes his head. “It’s been a personal favorite for a long time,” says Bruce. Clark shoots him an amused grin. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone throwing out a copy,” Jason says. Bruce frowns. “You have a library around here.” The remark earns him an unamused snort. “It’s a Gotham library; people don’t go there to read books, they go there to buy, sell and/or ingest drugs, and they tend not to be too happy with anybody who’s lingering around while they’re doing it.” Bruce feels a pang, not for the first time that night. “Jason,” he starts, before realizing he isn’t sure what to say. Jason keeps angled to watch him expectantly as he rises to deposit his napkins and bag in a nearby trashcan. “We’d like to help you,” Clark says. “Yeah,” Jason scoffs. “Right. Just how do you plan on doing that? Because I’ve heard that before. I’ve done the whole foster care thing already, and I’m not about to go through it again.” “No,” Bruce is quick to agree. “But there are residential schools in the city. We could help you to get enrolled in one.” Jason seems taken aback by the offer. “…Why?” He asks slowly. “Well for one, because kids should be in school. You’d be provided with room and board for the duration of your time there, which would leave you with less to worry about.” He reaches out to pass Jason the second takeout bag. He’s still lingering at a distance from them. “At least think about it?” “No. I mean, like, why?” Bruce’s eyebrow raises, tugging at the material of his cowl. “What’s in this for you?” Jason continues. “Why do you even care?” “It’s our job,” Clark says. “You’re job is to beat up bad guys.” Clark smiles when Jason mimes punching someone, before saying, “Our job is to help people.” Jason purses his lips. “Don’t boarding schools cost money?” “Most of them offer scholarships,” Bruce says. “I have a few friends who are deans. I could make the necessary introductions to ensure you a place at one of their institutions.“ Jason’s arms are crossed high over his chest, and his expression is set like he’s deep in thought. “I don’t want to end up stuck somewhere where someone else is the boss of me.” “How about you at least come with us to check a couple of these places out,” Bruce suggests. “Just see how you feel about them. No commitment.” Jason’s nose scrunches up. “Where exactly are these places?” He asks. “It varies,” Bruce says. “All within the city.” They watch the boy chew on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Just to see,” he says eventually. Bruce nods. “I’m not getting into a car with you,” Jason adds. “We can take the bus,” Clark offers. Jason raises an eyebrow at that, and his mouth quirks almost into a smile. “Batman and Superman are gonna ride on Gotham’s shitty public transit?” “Why not?” Clark asks. “… Okay,” Jason says, still plainly unconvinced. “Let’s meet back here,” Bruce suggests. “Tomorrow?” Jason takes a minute, but eventually starts to nod. “Sure,” he says. “Why not.” They part ways after Clark disposes of his empty bag. The heroes return to their car.

While they’re driving back Clark says, “I know that look.” Bruce pauses to take stock of his own expression, and makes sure to neutralize anything on his face that might be out of the ordinary. Clark continues, unbothered by the lack of response. “It’s your ‘I’m already deeply emotionally invested in this kid’ look.” Bruce hums noncommittally. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight,” Clark adds. Bruce doesn’t either, but that’s par for the course at this point.

Part Two

[ri-ahhh]

Okay but hear me out: Grayson begging to come with you to take care of your baby siblings (like 2 and 4 years old) and he’s ON IT but then they get really out of hand and he’s like “I can see why birth control is a thing”

Listen I worked in a daycare for four years and I’m a firm believer that anyone wanting to have a kid needs to work that job for a week. Or like, forget the stupid baby dolls you take care of in high school, let a 15 yr old take care of 5 babies or 10 2 yr olds by themselves and see if they’ll have unprotected sex lol

You’re walking around your apartment, straightening up the place and removing anything potentially breakable or that might be a choking hazard in preparation for the day you promised to babysit your niece and nephew, when your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your jeans.

“Hello?” you answer, unplugging a stray phone charger from the wall socket by the couch and replacing it with one of the childproof plastic covers.

“Hey,” came Grayson’s voice on the other end of the line. “What time do you think you’ll head over?”

You pause in the middle of the room, confused momentarily, then smack your palm to your forehead. You had totally forgotten the plans you had made with your boyfriend to have a pool day at his house. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, Gray. I totally forgot, I told my brother like three weeks ago that I’d watch his kids for the day while he and his wife go house hunting.”

“Oh, damn,” he says, disappointed. His voice perks up when he speaks again, however. “I love kids, though! What if I came over and helped you out?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to spend your Saturday wrangling two toddlers? They’re little hellions, babe, to put it nicely.”

You can hear his grin through the phone. “Yeah. I wanna see you be an auntie.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, you relent. You’d be lying if you tried to say that you aren’t thinking about him being in dad mode for the day now, too. “Alright, but you don’t get to bail when shit hits the fan. Let me check that it’s cool with my brother.”

An hour later, you’ve got your just-turned-two niece Cami and her four year-old brother Cash sitting on your couch, entranced by Aquanauts playing on the TV, when Grayson knocks at the door. The kids’ heads jerk up, and your nephew looks at you questioningly, always excited for the opportunity to be a big boy and answer the door. You smile and nod, giving him permission to scramble off the couch with you following close behind.

You help him heave the door open, and he looks up at Grayson standing there, friendly smile fixed on his face when he sees your nephew. 

“Hey, little man! Can I come in?”

Cash nods with an excited smile of his own. You had already told him that your friend Grayson would be coming over to play with them. Outgoing and extroverted and a genuine people-person to no end, he had been as jittery and excited as if you had given him a spoonful of sugar ever since.

Grayson steps past the threshold of your apartment, and holds his fist out for Cash to bump. “I’m Grayson.”

You feel two little hands tug on your shirt, and you look down to see Cami reaching up to be held, curious about this new person but also cautious. You sweep her up and settle her on your hip, then nod at your nephew. “Gray, this is Cash. Tell him how old you are, bud.”

“Four!” he shouts, counting out the correct number of fingers before holding them up to Grayson. “I had a Spider-Man party! Do you like Spider-Man?”

“Dude, I love Spider-Man,” Grayson says exaggeratedly, giving Cash an enthusiastic high-five. He looks at Cami, who’s got her head resting on your shoulder as she watches this stranger interact with her brother. “And who’s this?”

“You gonna tell Grayson your name?” you ask Cami, knowing it’ll be hit or miss if she does or not. Much more of an introvert and also used to having an older silbling do everything for her, she isn’t quite as quick to warm up to people as her rambunctious brother. Sure enough, today is a no-go, but she still observes Grayson with big eyes and a fascinated little smile. 

Before you can answer your boyfriend, Cash speaks for her in that typical older-sibling fashion. “Her name is Campbell, but we call her Cami. Or Cam.”

“No way! My sister’s name is Cam, too!”

That’s all the small talk and mutual ground Cash needs to grab Grayson by the wrist and drag him into your living room to play with the pile of toys on the rug. He flashes you a grin as he passes, clearly impressed with himself that he’s already made such good friends with Cash.

You grin and roll your eyes, but follow them and sit with your back resting against the couch and Cami planted in your lap.

Admittedly, Grayson is a natural as he makes all the appropriate dinosaur and car crash noises and gladly accepts the Batman action figure instead of Spider-Man. He even coaxes Cami to take one of the animal figures, meeting her smile with a bright one of his own, glad to be making some headway now with the precious little girl in your arms.

Until Cash catches sight of the little plastic tiger now in Cami’s hands, and decides to ruin the moment completely.

“That’s mine, Cam!” he shouts, dropping Spider-Man and snatching the toy from her.

You know it’s coming, but Grayson is completely unprepared for the shrieking scream that Cami lets out as she clambers off your lap to take back the toy. Gray winces and looks at you in shock, but you’re just immediately going into ‘stop the fight’ mode.

“Cash, you weren’t even playing with that,” you reprimand, holding out your hand for him to reluctantly drop the toy into. You sit Cami on the rug next to him and make her look you in the eye. “Cami, use your words next time. What do you say when you want something?”

Her eyes light up when she sees the toy in your hand that she knows is about to belong to her once again. “P’ease!” she says, swiping her hand across her chest as well, leftover baby sign language engrained in her little brain.

You hand her the toy and make her say ‘thank you’ as well, then catch Grayson watching you in awe. “You handled that well,” he says.

You blush a little and shrug, crawling across the carpet now that the kids are happy and occupied so you can plant a soft kiss to his lips. “Hi,” you murmur, grinning against his mouth.

He chuckles and kisses you again, equally as chaste. “Hi.”

There are a couple more arguments that you have to stop, then they settle down for a bit while they eat a morning snack of banana slices and Cheerios. Cami definitely dumps her half-empty bowl on the floor to signify that she’s finished, and Cash accidentally spills his water everywhere after taking the lid off because ‘he’s not a baby.’ Grayson offers to clean it up while you take the kids to the bathroom to wipe Cami’s messy hands and face and to change Cash’s soaking wet clothes.

There’s a park nearby your apartment, so once everything is tidy again, the two of you round up the excited little balls of energy and head out the door. Both kids have easily become infatuated with Grayson, and as the four of you walk the sidewalk on your way to the park, he carries Cami on his hip while holding tightly on to Cash’s hand to stop him from chasing bugs into traffic. It’s an adorable image, to say the least, and makes your chest swell warmly.

You like watching him run around with Cash equally as much while you push Cami on the baby swings. Grayson is learning first-hand that even someone as in-shape as himself is no match for the energy of an excited four year-old. He chases Cash around the playground, flies him around like an airplane, and plays a game of tag before finally convincing him to come to the swings as well.

You laugh when he makes his way over, panting heavily. “Having fun?” you ask amusedly.

Grayson doesn’t answer, just takes his place behind the swing Cash chooses and catches his breath for a moment as he starts to push him.

“Just trying to figure out how my dad did this with me and E.”

Lunch and nap come next, which goes a little smoother than snack had. Grayson plays with them on the floor again while you cook, and you let him put out the squabbles himself until everything is ready. Cash only puts up a small fight when you lay them down in your bed. They’re both out in a matter of minutes, exhausted by the activities and excitement of their morning.

When you emerge back in the living room, you find Grayson slumped on the couch, staring at the TV that’s now playing Dora.

“Brushing up on your Spanish?” you ask, plopping down next to him and snuggling up to his side. “Or are you watching for the adventure?”

Grayson chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulder so he can pull you closer to him, his voice gruff and tired. “You were right. Hellions, both of them. Cute, but insane.”

You tip your head up to kiss the underside of his jaw. “For what it’s worth, they loved you.”

“Really?” he asks, his voice lighting up with the smile you can’t see.

You nod against his chest, grinning as you think back on the day. “Absolutely. Cami never takes to strangers that fast, and you were able to keep up with Cash, which is a feat not many others can do.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Kinda makes me scared to have kids now. It’s only been like five hours and I’m already exhausted.”

“You’re meant to be a dad Gray,” you assure him quietly, lifting your head and offering him a gentle smile. “If I didn’t already know that before, everything I saw today definitely made me think so. And no good thing comes easy, right? I think being a little tired is worth having one of those of your own, don’t you?”

“For sure,” he nods, cupping your cheek and dipping down to kiss you softly.

You hum into his mouth, needy for him now that you’ve got him all to yourself, and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down until you’ve got him sprawled our on top of you. You trace his lips with your tongue before slipping it between them, but at the first slide of it against his, Grayson pulls back.

“Is this okay, you know, with them...?” He nods down the hall to the closed door of your room.

You nod. “They’re heavy sleepers. We should probably keep it to over the clothes stuff just in case, though. And my brother will be here in an hour to get them, so we only have to wait until then.”

It’s enough to satisfy him, and Grayson ducks down again, ready to pick right back up, until he breaks away from your mouth once more.

“What?” you ask breathily, looking up at him with both confusion and frustration.

He reaches an arm behind you to grab the remote sitting on the arm of the couch. “I’m sorry, I just can’t make out while Dora is screaming at me to ‘vamonos.’”