#But I do think he’d know the phrase and teach Damian

[hood-ex]

Part 2 of the Dimension Switch Fic.  

“Grayson, what on earth are you doing?”

Dick turns his attention away from the meat lover's pizza he’s slicing to look over his shoulder at the kid who’s standing in the middle of the kitchen and giving Dick a disapproving glare. The kid, Damian, has his arms crossed over his long-sleeved shirt, and the way his shoulders are slightly hunched makes him look like a prickly, uncomfortable little cat. Dick would like to think the discomfort comes from the pair of beige chinos the kid is wearing, but if there’s anything he’s learned during his short time in this universe, it’s that Damian isn’t just any ordinary kid. That seems to cross over into how the kid likes to dress himself.

Dick motions to the pizza with the pizza cutter in his hand. “Making pizza. Want a slice?”

“What I want,” Damian says with a curled lip, “is for you to stop prancing around here in an indecent state.” He looks pointedly at Dick’s bare chest as if Dick’s exposed pecs are an offensive faux pas.

Dick cocks his hip against the counter and mirrors Damian’s crossed arms.

“That’s what’s got your thong in a knot?”

It’s only after he’s said it that Dick remembers that particular expression isn’t used in this universe. He’d found that out real quick the other day when he’d used it.

Tim had given him a confused look and asked, “Don’t you mean ‘don’t get your panties in a twist?’”

The kid had then started rambling about how the original phrase involved knickers and was created by the Brits and, well, Tim had reminded him so much of an excited puppy that Dick had just ruffled the kid’s hair after the explanation and gone on his way.

“Richard would never walk around without a shirt unless he was downstairs or in his apartment!” Damian says hotly.

Oh, Dick thinks, he just misses his big brother.  

He’d been informed about his 27-year-old counterpart—who he’s secretly been referring to as DG in his head—by Damian the first night he’d arrived in this universe. From what he’d heard, DG did sound kind of awesome. At least, Damian had made him sound that way after explaining that DG had been his Batman. What was less awesome was learning the reason DG became Batman in the first place.

Dick’s only slightly ashamed to admit that when he’d been left to the guest room he’d been given, he’d teared up imagining his dad dying and taking all the comforting warmth from the manor with him.

Even now, the thought of his dad’s death makes his mood sour. He tries not to let it show as he turns back to his pizza to move a few slices over to the plate he prepared.

“When your brother gets back, you can sing his praises for wearing a shirt. Me? I’m gonna keep doing my thing because no one’s gonna die from me not wearing a shirt.”

Dick doesn’t even have to be looking at the kid to know he bristles about one of the things Dick just said.

“Father and Pennyworth will not be pleased!”

Dick shrugs and moves to place the pizza cutter in the dishwasher. “They can tell me if it’s a problem.”

“I’m telling you it’s a problem,” Damian says, and Dick smoothly evades the fingers Damian tries to grip his arm with. Dick returns to his spot at the counter and grabs his plate in one hand and a single piece of pizza in his other.

“And I’m telling you to take a slice of pizza. Last chance.” Dick holds the slice out like some kind of peace offering.

The look of disdain Damian gives him reminds Dick of a wolf with its teeth pulled back in a threatening snarl.

“I’m a vegetarian,” Damian says through gritted teeth.

“You are?” And now Dick kind of feels like an asshole. “My bad, kumquat.”

“Tt!”

Damian marches out of the kitchen with all the rage of a thousand women scorned, and Dick breathes a sigh of relief once he disappears.

He can’t wait to be an only child again.

It’s only when he’s settled in the living room with his pizza and drink sitting on the coffee table that he tries to imagine himself being a big brother. As Starling, he had to deal with kids all the time. Comforting them when they were scared, entertaining them when they needed a distraction, giving them first aid when they were hurt, and holding their hands while waiting for the parents to collect them.

The only kid he knows personally that he’s always been fond of is J’onn’s daughter, K'hym. He’s taken her to the trampoline park a few times, always given her over the top gifts for her birthday, and will gladly give her a piggyback ride when she shyly asks for one. He likes teaching her things too. His chest is always filled with pride and purpose whenever she learns something she didn’t know before all because of him. And the smile he always gets whenever she excitedly wraps her arms around his legs and loudly proclaims how much she missed him? There’s nothing better.

He tries to imagine doing all that and more with four siblings and… he thinks he might like it. He thinks he might be good at it if given the chance. Hell, DG seems to be pretty good at it if the way Tim and Damian talk about him with affection and admiration is any indication.  

A frown crosses his face as he thinks about sharing his dad and Alfred with a bunch of other kids. It’s always been just the three of them since he’d been adopted at 4-years-old. Dad’s never shown interest in adopting more kids, probably because Dick’s always been a bit of a handful. Dad’s always been good at combating that by challenging him and keeping his mind sharp, but would he even have time to do stuff like that with Dick if there were more kids in the picture?

Dick wishes he could use this universe’s version of his dad to get some perspective on that. The problem is that Bruce is so different from his dad that he doesn’t think it’ll be a fair comparison. Plus, Bruce’s DG isn’t here so it’s not like Dick can watch them interact anyway.

It simmers on the back burner of his mind as he digs into his pizza and flicks on the TV. He surfs through the channels and ends up stopping on some show called Supernatural that’s got bad acting and janky special effects. He’s only able to watch it for half an hour before his leg starts bouncing out of boredom.

He spends the rest of his day in the cave alone while Bruce is at someplace called the Watchtower to finish making plans with Zatanna. There’s not anything productive for him to do since Bruce doesn’t trust him enough to use the big ass computer or the multiple other monitors that are down here.

Dick takes his time checking out all the cars and motorcycles that come in all different shapes and sizes. Most are sleek and black, and a few have red or white accents. He mostly finds himself drawn to the bikes. He can appreciate a good bike, and he wonders if DG is the same way.

Damian comes down from time to time, claiming to be keeping Dick company. Dick’s not fooled by the lie. He’s come to realize that Damian is just as wary of him as Bruce is, and he knows Damian just wants to keep an eye on him. Dick doesn’t blame the kid. It’s smart not to trust him. Smart, but annoying. He just wishes Damian would at least pretend to hide his intentions better by actually interacting with him rather than awkwardly skulking in the darkness.

Dinner ends up being a lonely affair. Damian congratulates him for finally putting on a shirt and then makes himself scarce. Alfred busies himself with baking a German chocolate cake rather than sitting to eat with him. Yesterday he’d at least had Tim to sit and talk with at the kitchen table. Tim’s not at the manor anymore though, and Dick doesn’t think he’ll get a chance to see him again before he goes back home.

Dick’s not prepared for the feeling of nostalgia that consumes him while he stuffs his mouth full of steak au poivre. He doesn’t know if it's the sight of all the empty chairs at the table or the silence that gets to him. He just knows that he misses his dad. He misses his Alfred. He misses them all sitting together at the table and talking about their days. He misses his dad’s morning hugs. He misses making dinner with Alfred. He misses having his dad’s undivided attention as they talk about everything and nothing. He misses singing dramatic renditions of Bobby Vinton songs with Alfred in the cave.

He feels like there’s some integral piece of himself missing. Like these days don’t matter unless they’re shared with his favorite people. It’s ironic considering he’s surrounded by people who look and talk the same as his family but aren’t them in all the ways that matter. It’s almost worse being around his family’s counterparts because it feels like normalcy is close within his grasp when in reality, it’s far away.

At least the steak here tastes good, Dick thinks as he takes his last bite of meat and washes it down with water.

There’s the sound of soft footsteps coming closer, and Damian suddenly appears in the doorway. He leans against the frame with his arms crossed, pointedly not looking in Dick’s direction.

“Pennyworth,” Damian says, and he waits for Alfred to look at him before continuing. “Father has returned to the cave and requests his dinner be brought downstairs.”

The homesickness and boredom that’s been swelling in Dick’s chest all day finally come to a head, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s already on his feet.

“I’ll take it to him!” he says, and if he sounds a little too excited to do such a menial task, well, sue him. He really wants to see his dad. Even if said dad isn’t technically his real dad. They’re both still Bruce Wayne, and that’s enough for him. For now, at least.

Alfred blinks at him in surprise. Dick’s not sure whether it’s because of the offer itself or the enthusiasm behind it.

“Are you sure, Master Dick? As our guest, we certainly don’t expect you to—”

“I don’t mind,” he assures, waving off Alfred’s concern. “You’re busy making the cake and it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

Alfred stares at him for a moment longer, and Dick’s not sure what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, it makes his eyes soften and his smile stretch.

“Very well, sir. I’ll put it all on a tray for you to take down.”

“Tt.” Damian rolls his eyes, pushing off against the frame and disappearing from sight. Dick kind of hopes he’s not going back down to the cave so that Dick can talk to Bruce without feeling Damian glaring daggers into his back.

Dick shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels while he waits for Alfred to put everything together. He can’t help but think about how his Alfred always hates it when he rocks like this in the middle of the kitchen, claiming that Dick’s restless energy gives him anxiety.

“Here you are,” Alfred says a minute later, offering the tray to him. Dick’s relieved to note that this tray has a cup holder to keep the drink from spilling. He’ll have to tell his Alfred about it when he gets back home. “You can leave the tray with Master Bruce.”

Dick takes the heavy load that makes his arms strain a little. “Thanks, Alf.”

He props the tray up on one hand, preferring to pretend he’s a waiter. He used to love pretending to wait on Bruce and Alfred when he was a kid. He would grab a random notepad and pen from Bruce’s desk, and he would take Bruce and Alfred’s orders. Bruce usually ordered some kind of fruit, and Alfred would typically request something easy like a bottle of water. Dick would happily carry the items to them on a tray, and once the items were accepted, Bruce and Alfred would pretend to pay him and tip him excessively. It was one of Dick’s favorite games to play.

He’s still smiling from the memory when he gets to the cave, and he tries to tamp it down as he approaches the chair Bruce is sitting at in front of the big computer screen. From what he can see, Bruce is wearing the batsuit without the cowl, and even though his eyes are glued to the screen, Dick can see how his shoulders tense the closer Dick gets.

“Hey, Bruce,” Dick greets as he places the tray down on the table’s limited free space. “I got your dinner.”

Bruce stops typing while he looks over the food on the tray with an impassive look. The dark circles under his eyes make the action look more intense than it has any right to be.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, resuming his typing.

Dick waits for some kind of follow up and frowns when there is none. It creates an awkward tension in the air, and for a brief moment, Dick thinks about slinking back up the stairs without another word. The eagerness in his chest won’t let up though, and he decides to poke and prod a little more.

“The steak is really good.” He leans against the side of the computer chair, his right hand dangling so that his fingers barely brush Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce stills at the touch for the briefest second. “You guys eat like kings here. Not that I don’t back home or anything. My Alfred’s an amazing cook too. He usually lets dad cook a few nights a week, and dad’s a good cook, y’know? He’s just not Alfred level good. So sometimes dinner can be kind of hit or miss.”

Bruce finally stops what he’s doing and cranes his head up to look at Dick with an unreadable look that makes Dick shuffle in place. He’s not nervous per se. He’s just… a little unnerved by how hard it is to read Bruce. It’s never this difficult to get a feel for what his dad is thinking.

What Bruce finally ends up saying is, “I don’t cook.”

Dick raises a brow. “Ever?”

“Almost never.”

“Because you suck?”

Dick swears he sees the corner of Bruce’s mouth tilt up just the tiniest bit.

“Hn. That’s what I’ve been told.”

Dick pats Bruce on the shoulder consolingly, the material of the cape feeling rough and heavy against his fingers.

“I guess we can’t all be Gordon Hamsay’s.”

Bruce’s brow furrows. “Hamsay? It’s Ramsay in this universe.”

“Ramsay?” Dick says incredulously. “That sounds so weird.”

“Hamsay sounds wrong to me,” Bruce shrugs.

Dick clucks his tongue. “This universe fuckery is too much.”

“Speaking of which,” Bruce says, and any trace of lightheartedness is snuffed out of his tone. Now he’s all Batman, and Dick feels himself straightening out of habit. “We’ll be able to send you home this time tomorrow.”

Dick smiles, his heart leaping. Images of hugging his parents, sleeping in his own bed, and going out as Skywing flash through his mind.

“Really?”

“Zatanna pinpointed your universe a few hours ago. We decided to wait to make the switch until tomorrow when Doctor Fate is available to help us.”

Dick curls his fingers in his hair and tugs on the strands, trying to ignore the way his eyes sting. Home. He’s going home! He’s going back to his life! To his people! To his… everything!

“How are we gonna do it?” he asks a little breathlessly.  

Bruce turns away from him and looks back at the computer.

“That’s classified.”

“Sorry… what?” He doesn’t mean to shout, but he can’t help it because… what? “I’m not allowed to know how I’m getting home?”

“You know Zatanna is involved. What more do you need?”

“How about some details so I know you’re not just going to punt me off into the abyss!”

“That would require trusting you,” Bruce says, and okay, Dick knows as much. But still. Ow.

“And I get that! I just—” He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “Look. I’m not asking you to give me the exact damn spell we’re going to be using, okay? I just want to know the gist of the plan. Am I going to have to do anything? Am I going by myself? Is Zatanna—”

“The plan is to take you back to your world tomorrow. End of story.”

Dick can feel something dark and ugly start to bubble up inside of him. He crosses his arms over his chest and holds on tight to keep himself from doing something childish like shoving Bruce’s rolly chair.

“What? You think giving me even the smallest bit of insight is going to be enough for me to blow up your whole world or something?”

“It could be. You could have sent yourself here to kill us for all I know.”

“Bullshit! If you really believed that, you wouldn’t let me stay here!”

“Wouldn’t I?” And now Bruce is on his feet and using his height advantage to loom over Dick like a dark shadow. “You think I’d rather have you out in the city where I can’t monitor you?”

“What I think,” Dick spits, “is that you’re a control freak.”

Dick thinks maybe Bruce has heard that before based on his lack of reaction to it.

“How many experiences have you had like this back in your world?” Bruce asks, stepping closer. Dick stands his ground, and they’re so close that he can feel Bruce’s body heat. “How many times have you had people from other universes invade your own?”

“I—” Dick scowls. “None.”

“Well, we’ve had our fair share of experiences with evil counterparts coming here to kill us and destroy our universe.” Dick blinks at the fury laced in Bruce’s voice. “So you need to understand that I won’t compromise our safety by giving you information you could use against us.”

Nothing’s funny, but Dick laughs anyway, and it’s like the grinding of a car that won’t start.

“You know what?” he asks, raking his fingers through his hair so hard that his scalp stings. “My dad would have trusted his friend with the truth compelling lasso to make any alternate counterpart’s intentions clear. But not you, right? You won’t—”

Bruce slams his hand on the table so hard that the black pen holder falls on its side and sends a handful of pens clattering to the floor.

Dick doesn’t even flinch.

“We’re done here. Upstairs. Now.”

Bruce’s face is cold like a blank mask that’s hard and unforgiving.

He’s seen his dad look that way at criminals before. Never at him. Never at his son.

Except he’s not this Bruce’s son, is he? And this Bruce isn’t his dad. This Bruce could never be his dad. Not with a look like that.

A knot forms in Dick’s throat. He should have stayed upstairs. He would have been bored, and he would have made himself so homesick he probably would have cried, but at least he wouldn’t feel like this.

Dejected. Sad. Miserable.

Lonely.

The worst thing is knowing that the way he feels is partly his fault.

He came down here looking for his dad, and instead, he got Bruce.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Just Hold Me Tonight - Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 1.1k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello! I saw your post about PTSD and it’s really heart warming. I suffer from anxiety and I get really panicky. Could you do 9 and 21 for the reader with Tim where it’s a rough night, I don’t know if you have experience with anxiety but I love your writing so I thought I’d request it. Thanks! ” (9. can you just hold me tonight? 21. please stop crying baby)

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Hello angel, this request absolutely made my day. I try to be really open but it is hard, I have PTSD, anxiety and ADHD but I believe they make me stronger not weaker. I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks so I decided to do one of those because I think Tim would be really comforting. I really hope you enjoy and that this gives you a piece of my perspective and experience with mental health <3.

TW FOR MENTIONS OF TRAUMA AND LIGHT DESCRIPTIONS

It was nights like this you hated living in Gotham. You’d taken an apartment in the best area in Gotham as to avoid the noise. Not anything in specific, the noise. Gunshots, screaming, and anything else that goes bump in the night. The night you told Tim broke his heart. After a wonderful evening together he invited you to swing with him through the streets, he promised to perch you on a building so you could watch him live out his passion. But you knew you couldn’t do it, not yet, maybe not ever. So you sat him down, and explained, not too much, because the details are painful, but enough. You were enough. And Tim wouldn’t let you forget it. “Y/N, love, it means a lot that you told me, I’m sorry.” you noticed how angry Tim looked, after hearing your story his hands were shaking and it was your turn to comfort him. You reminded him he was so young, he couldn’t have saved you and that you were a strong, independent woman. 

And to your delight, nothing changed. Tim didn’t treat you like a piece of broken glass that would fracture in his hands because you were strong, and he loved you for it. But some nights you really did just need his presence, because he reminded you of what was good in the world. When fear crept in, and everything seemed out to find and hurt you Tim was there, sometimes he came in the Red Robin suit, you loved the way the reds and shadows danced around his body, he was the embodiment of a hero, your hero. You knew his exact routine for taking off the suit. Utility belt, cape, shoes, exterior suit, body armor, new shirt on, pants, put on new shorts, and finally the mask. Back when he wore the condom hat you’d giggle at his mask-hair but the domino mask was your personal favorite. You could tell the relief he got in peeling it off, and the first thing his eyes met was you. 

You were usually curled up in the corner of your bed, you always kept it in the corner of your room because the walls reminded you that you were alive. You’d make yourself as small as possible, and reach for your phone. Shooting Tim the alert message asking that if he was free you wouldn’t mind his company. And that was all he needed. He’d come through your window, unlocking it with a key you’d placed on it so only he could get in. He’d start pulling off the suit if he was wearing it, and begin scanning the room for you. Tim always started with soft words and tonight was no different.

“Hey love, how’s it going tonight? Real fancy seeing you here!” you could feel a smile grace your lips but the buzzing didn’t stop. Giving him a small nod to come forward you shifted, letting him plop down in the bed next to you. “Oh babe are you crying? No, please, I’m here.” you let him scoop you up and pull you in close, feeling his hands swipe tears away from your cheeks. You didn’t talk yet, not ready to open up your heart. “Please stop crying baby I’m here, I’m right here Y/N, it’s okay.” Tim’s voice was filled with nothing but love and adoration, and you felt the tendrils of fear sneak back. 

“Hey Timmy” you whispered, your hands were still shaking but Tim held them, his warmth spreading to you. “Mhm so how’s your night going?” you loved his humor, poking his chest. “I think you know goof” he feigned innocence, the hand you’d let go was swirling patterns on your back while he held you. “Soooo want me to tell you about patrol?” you nodded, stories of his heroism always made you feel better.

“So tonight I’m with Damian, Bruce just started letting us fly solo but the punk likes to give me a hard time because Bruce always says I’m in charge. So I decided tonight to give him a lil fright. We’re out about halfway through a slow patrol. So as he’s swinging through the buildings I turned around. Kid flipped out it was hilarious. Saying something about my ‘incompetent ass falling mid grapple’ but then I didn’t come back and he genuinely got scared! Like the kid has feelings it was almost heartening except that he’s a demon. Ah! There we go, my favorite girl giving that award winning smile” you blushed, Tim still made you feel butterflies with his horrible pickup lines and dorky smiles, and you loved it.

“I know Damian has feelings, he loves his pets! And I think he really likes me.” your voice was growing stronger, fingers now playing with his hair. “Little D loves you Y/N. Imagine being so unlucky that your family loves your wife more than you. It’s sooo hard on me” you groaned, trying to hold back another smile. Tim always called you his wife or Y/N Drake-Wayne, he said why wait for the officials he knew you were his person. “Yes that’s gotta be really hard Timbers I’m so sorry” you tried to fake pout and he scrunched his nose at you. 

And just like that, the storm had dissipated. Now it was just you and Tim, no large nasty grim reaper standing in the other corner of your room. Just your dork boyfriend who was trying to teach you phrases in elvish so he could tell you that you were sexy in front of Bruce. “So you wanna get up? Movie night? Take out?” your hand fell to his cheek, pulling him in for the first kiss of the night. “How about you just hold me tonight?” and he kissed you back, “absolutely love” and he winked at you.

“Y/N, love, if it were up to me I’d be holding you for the rest of my life”

“That’s nice Timmy but say it in elvish”

“Mel, im anír- na gar- cin an anand” 

“Oh my god it was a joke you nerd” Tim grinned like an idiot and leaned in to kiss your nose. “I’m your nerd angel!”

“Dork.”

[amazingflyingdick]

stars gone nuclear.

WHO: Dick Grayson @amazingflyingdick & Slade Wilson @terminator-deathstroke ; mentions of Damian Wayne @sonofabct WHERE: NOVA Headquarters WHEN: September 13th, 2020 WHAT: Dick is infiltrating the secret lab at NOVA Headquarters when he realizes something is wrong.

Slade: All around them, chaos. Slade couldn't tell how many people he had cut down, but Slade didn't operate with any kind of hesitation or concern. Normally, he did show mercy and normally he did have some modicum of respect. But this was like a nest of wasps. The heroes hadn't dealt with it, so Slade was going to deal with it. NOVA had been around too long to really be allowed to continue and he wasn't going to allow them to take another shot at Dick. This was what he did. What he had trained for. Death and destruction were his calling card. And if he could use it to actually care for his own this time, he would.

Damian Wayne was every inch Talia Al Ghul's child. He saw it in the way he fought, the way he could fully disengage from human life. He had said before that he was wasted with Bruce Wayne, who suppressed his natural skills at every turn and refused to let him live as he should be permitted to live. Let him use the skills he possessed from birth. Slade could teach him everything, but he was sure that wasn't a fight he would win with Dick. If he could even win this one.

Damian had a set of detonators, and Slade had the other. They had been blown and major structural damage had been done to the building. Their security was fried, and they were methodically destroying everything on top of taking out operatives.

He could hear, however, even through the din, the moment Dick arrived. He had always said he could pick his heart out of a crowd, and now was no different. He tense, flicking blood from his katana and holstering his pistol as he turned. "Nightwing," he greeted. It would be easier for Dick, wouldn't it? If Slade kept it professional right now. It was a job, but Slade wouldn't begrudge Dick his rage.

Dick: The sound of gunfire reached him even though Dick was in the basement. The walls were thick down there, and everything was muffled, but even he knew when something was very wrong. There was nothing he could do at first. He was in the middle of helping Erik get the mutants out safely. There were still more who needed to be released.

But he had no idea what was going on or who would be shooting in a NOVA facility. The possibilities set him on edge. It was no coincidence that the league was carrying out their elaborate plan at the same time. Something must have gone wrong. The thought preoccupied him, even though he managed to focus long enough to get the last of the mutants out of the building. Only then did he finally feel as if he could leave. The commotion was only getting louder.

He'd just reached the first floor when he felt the building shake. Parts of it collapsed. Stunned, he rushed through the the hallways, dodging people who were running from something - or someone. As he passed people on the ground, Dick stopped to check their pulses just to be sure, just in case he could so something to help, and he was shocked to find not one of them alive. This almost looked professional.

When he rounded the corner and saw Deathstroke standing there, he stopped cold. The slow dread in his chest intensified to near-panic. His throat felt tight. "What are you doing?" The sound of his own voice startled him. He felt disconnected from it. He was in complete shock, even denial, and he kept telling himself that this wasn't what it looked like. It couldn't be what it looked like. Dick didn't know how to reconcile with the idea.

An agent that was trapped in the doorway close to him screamed for him to help her. Blinking, Dick held up a hand. "It's all right. You'll be all right."

Slade: "She won't be," Slade answered. "Her body is half crushed." He pulled his pistol, leveling it at the woman. "It'd be more of a mercy to get out of my way and let me finish up here." He knew he was right, and he knew that Dick would be a pain in the ass regardless. He hadn't anticipated that he would do this. That he would appear. But he had, and Slade would have to deal with that. "I hadn't thought you'd show up so quickly." He had known he'd come, but Slade had half wondered if he'd get out before anyone from the League surfaced.

Dick: Dick glared at him, but he instantly moved so that he was standing between the gun and the woman. At the same time and on instinct, he withdrew both escrima sticks. "No." He wasn't going to let him just shoot her, especially if there were still a chance that she could live. "I..." What? Slade had expected him to show up? This was some sort of plan? His mind raced back to the last time they'd seen each other. Suddenly it made more sense - or less, he wasn't sure. It was impossible to understand why this was happening. Seeing Slade as Deathstroke made it ten times worse. "I was here before you," he said woodenly, his jaw clenched. "Was this the job you told me about? Is this what you were hired to do?"

It was the only thing that made sense. Slade had lied to him... again. He'd been lying the entire time. But why? To get closer to him? To get information from Dick about the league, so he would know when to plan the attack?

Slade: Slade blinked before shaking his head. "No. It wasn't the fucking job, Dick." There was no point playing at secrecy. Dick had been outed to the whole city, and all of these fucking people knew who he was. They knew enough to nearly kill him, and Slade wasn't going to give them a second chance. Therefore, it didn't matter if they heard him or not. "I knew you'd show up because you always show up. You always appear to stop things. But I'm doing what needs to be done. What I'm surprised your people haven't done sooner."

Why hadn't Wayne taken them out? They could have easily dealt with NOVA. They had Superman on their side and Bruce Wayne was balls-deep in a woman would could literally destroy reality as they knew it with a single phrase. Slade did his research and he wasn't a moron. He hadn't come to Star City to do this, and he hadn't given a shit about NOVA until they had hurt Dick. But that had made his personal. Slade wasn't going to let Dick go without retribution, and he wasn't risking King Midas not being available to make death obsolete should they manage to actually successfully kill Dick the second time around.

Dick: "Then why are you doing this??" Dick wasn't making the connection, even though he might have been able to figure it out if he wasn't so stunned by what he'd seen. He just couldn't get his head wrapped around it. NOVA had been a thorn in everyone's side for years. Even though he was aware they had some sort of involvement in what happened to him, it didn't occur to him that it would have inspired something like this. They didn't know for sure who orchestrated the attack yet. The last he heard, Tim was still tracking down surveillance. Even when they did find out who was responsible, it wasn't as if he'd want them dead.

Shaking his head, he stepped back, but still maintained the position between Slade's gun and the agent. "You think the answer is to kill them all? Destroy the building? That isn't the answer. That isn't going to change things for us, or for mutants or metahumans. That - it isn't - why? Why would you..." The information that came over the comm made his mouth snap shut. His eyes widened. "Damian?" Suddenly he moved, his palm striking the side of the gun as he tried to disarm him. "Why is my little brother here, Slade??"

Slade: "I don't care about mutants and metahumans, Dick. I'm not a hero. I don't care about the greater cause." Slade had always been a businessman, and by virtue of being a businessman, he cared more about himself and his people than he ever would about some overarching cause. In his years as Deathstroke, he had learned that most people died the same at the end of the day, and good or evil was all fallacy. He found that his way of viewing the world was more realistic. Less doomed to fail.

As the other seemed to get some kind of comm transmission, Slade reached up to speak into his own, informing Damian that the League had arrived. The kid could choose his own adventure as to what he would do next.

"He's here for the same reason I'm here, Dick. You. We're doing what your father should have done. What his precious League should have done. These fucking people shot you in the head. You're one of their own gets fucked?" He shook his head, and very nearly reached up to pull off his mask. But he couldn't. Not if he wanted any hope of walking the streets of Star City as a free man.

Dick: Dick was seeing red. He had no idea what was going on. None of it made sense to him, partly because he wasn't allowing his brain to slow down and process the information. He was already starting to suspect what the answer was and he didn't want to hear it. The woman behind him was the only one in earshot, but even if there were other witnesses, he was too infuriated to think about protecting Slade's identity. The rage and absolute devastation was dizzying and he didn't know how to channel it.

"What?" Even though his voice was almost a whisper, it was obvious that anger simmered just below the surface. "No - don't. Don't try to tell me this has to do with me. You can't possibly think this is what I want. That I would want people dead because of me. I..." It made him sick when he thought about the bodies he'd passed on his way here. The idea that he was responsible for it was overwhelming. And Damian being part of it - Damian, who had trained with him and thrived as Robin - was too much to handle.

The woman's cries had stopped. Dick felt his back against the wall and he slid halfway down it, bent over, his grip so hard on the sticks that his knuckles were white. "I can't believe you did this. How could you? Do you know what this means? Do you even know what you've done?"

Slade: Slade sheathed his weapon. He didn't need it. He'd never use it properly on Dick anyway. He watched the other sink and shook his head. "What you want isn't necessarily what you needed, Dick," Slade said, softening for him as he always did. Beneath the mask, his face gentled, not that it would matter. "I protected you. I did all of this for you. Damian wanted to do it too. I didn't coerce him or force him. But don't you see that this pandemic from NOVA would continue to worsen? I wouldn't see you in another fucking hospital bed on their account while your so-called father sat useless even for calling in your fairy godmother to fix you." He shook his head. "I wouldn't."

He moved toward him, reaching out to catch his chin. "Don't you see? I did it because you wouldn't. I did it so you wouldn't have to, and so that even your team wouldn't have to. This method makes changes, kid. I've been using it a long time."

Dick: All Dick could do was shake his head. He could feel his hands shaking, but he managed to retain his grip on the sticks. It was the only thing that was keeping him together, grounded, and he barely heard what Slade was saying. The words twisted up in his mind. "Stop. Stop. No." He couldn't listen to it anymore. "I didn't need to see them die. I didn't need to know that I'm responsible for their deaths, or that it's because of me that my little brother went back to being something he's worked so hard not to be."

His breath caught when Slade took his chin and he lifted his gaze. "Do you think that absolves me? It doesn't. I played a part in this." Even if it were a passive role, he had been the driving force behind it. He'd failed to stop it in time, or even see it coming, despite the warning signs he'd gotten from Damian. "I didn't need this. I needed you."

Slade: He hadn’t expected Dick to understand or to be grateful. Why should he be? Still, Slade shook his head, especially tripping up as Dick mentioned Damian. “Something he worked hard not to be for you, kid. Do you really think that he’s ever going to be like Batman? It’s in his blood. Literally. He’s an Al Ghul, and all Batman ever did was tell him how wrong he was. How every belief he carried was wrong. He’s worked so hard to snuff out every hint of his mother and never paused to think the kid might be better off like Red Hood. Or like me.” Slade scoffed. “Damian’s choice was his own, and it’s probably one of the first ones he’s felt certain about. You all tried to beat it out of him, but never taught him why.”

He shook his head. “And I’ll let you in on a secret that Bruce Wayne never will: there is no why. There is no moral absolutism, Dick. Anyone who claims they know greater based on morality is selling bullshit. Look at you. You won’t even let them see who you are, what you need. All because Batman forced you into something you weren’t and then threw you out when he was fucking done with you.”

“Horseshit,” he answered fiercely. “The only part you played was showing up here and doing this. I chose to make the plans, Damian chose to work with me, I swing my own fucking weapon and so does he. And we do it for the same motivation.” Because they loved him. Slade loved so few people in this world. There were even fewer for whom he’d put down his life. Dick was in a group he could count on one hand. And it was Slade’s choice. “I did this, little bird. You did nothing.”

Dick: "That's not true!" Dick insisted, instantly agitated and angry at the thought that Damian had done anything for his sake. It had been his decision too. When he'd encouraged Damian to take up the Robin mantle, it had been with the understanding that he would follow the rules required to wear the suit. That was a choice he'd made. At some point, Dick always imagined that Damian would make his own way in the world. This wasn't the choice he expected him to make, however, especially when he was supposed to be working with Barbara. With Bruce. This wasn't supposed to happen. None of it felt right. "You don't know what I taught him," he said hoarsely. "I always told him why. He..." What had happened? How had this happened?

He shook his head, but his breath caught when Slade brought up what Batman had done. It brought another wave of anger, and he pushed his hand away from his face. "No. I chose to be Robin. I wanted it. I believed in it. I believed in what he taught me. All of it." It hurt to hear those words spoken aloud. Bruce throwing him away. That had been what it felt like, even though he'd gotten more explanation in the years that followed. What he had failed to live up to were Bruce's standards. He'd made them his own and tried diligently to stay in line and to be perfect, but he would always fall short. It was an impossible expectation he'd never be able to maintain. "I put it on myself," he said dully. The anger was still there, but there was no energy behind it. Motivation. That's what he was. "Doesn't matter. What now? We all walk away from this place. NOVA rebuilds. More agents replace these. It's pointless and it doesn't change what happened. It doesn't change what will happen. This isn't what I wanted and it's sure as hell not what I needed." Pushing away from the wall, Dick suddenly remembered the woman and bent down next to her, reaching for her wrist. He didn't feel a pulse. His shoulders crumpled and he lifted his other hand to his face, pressing it over his eyes. "You threw me away, too, you know, and for what? This?" Closing his eyes, he took a slow breath. "Just... go. Go before they get here."

Slade: “If it wasn’t true, why is he still fucking killing after all these years? Why isn’t he Robin anymore? It’s bullshit, Dick. What reason do you have to tell him that he can’t be what he is? That he can’t do what he’s good at? Not everyone in the world is destined to be a fucking superhero. He’s a person, and people make their own choices. Look at Red Hood. You love him, don’t you? In spite of the fact that he’ll never be ‘good’. You love me. And I know what I am, too. So do you. You’ve always known, Dick. And you loved me anyway.”

“And he let you. You put it on yourself and he never fucking told you that this life would kick you in the ass over and over and sometimes your fuck ups are just a part of being alive.” He shook his head, looking away. “I’m a shitty father. My kids hate me and crave me all at the same time and it’s because I fucked them up. But at least I’m not so arrogant as to think that my little girl doesn’t hurt inside every time I’m hard on her. That my sons aren’t lobotomized from the effects of his death or fucking mute from a gamble I lost. I did that. I ruined them. I don’t walk around pretending I didn’t. And I’d never let them tell me I hadn’t.” Slade loved his children. He loved them so much, and he hurt them all the time. It was why he had pushed them to the Titans. They had needed them. They didn’t need him. Slade had seen that. Bruce Wayne saw nothing but his fucking agenda, and he didn’t care who fell to it.

“It’s not pointless,” he snarled. “It escalates. Prompts action. No war ever ended because the good guys sat in their ivory towers planning and never acting. Now you’ll all have to, and now they won’t think they can get away with sending an assassin after you again. I’ll kill them over and over again, Dick. I will never let them hurt you like that again. Whether you want me anymore or not, I looked you in the eye and told you I loved you. I’ve told one other person. I’m not gonna fail you like I failed her."

He caught Dick’s face again, this time pressing his masked forehead to his. “No,” he said. “I just accepted that I’d never be a good enough man for you, Dick. That I could feel more fiercely for you than I ever did for another person, and I still wouldn’t ever be what you thought you wanted. I accepted that this would probably be it for us. I’m not going to stop loving you, little bird. I didn’t for ten years. Even if it’s fucked up, it’s what we’ve got. I’m not throwing you away. You’re just cutting me loose. I understand.”

He pushed back, giving Dick one last lingering look. “The main bombs will blow in four minutes. The larger ones. Let them know if you want. Or just get everyone the fuck out.” There was a pressure in his chest and he almost wished that his heart would explode like Grant’s had. Slade Wilson was a stranger to heartache, because he usually ran on too much quiet rage or brutal resignation to let it through. But he had known from the start of all this that they’d be doomed in spite of everything. He just fucking hated to be right.

Dick: Dick shook his head. "That's not what I told him. I... wanted to show him another way to live, a way that wasn't killing, because he didn't know any other way. He'd never had a choice before. He chose Robin. I knew it was only temporary, until he made a new name for himself, and that would also be his choice." He'd made an effort not to box Damian into one way to be. Of course, that wasn't to say what happened once Bruce took over, but there was a reason Damian hadn't given up Robin. Wincing, he lowered his head, unable to argue against the undeniable fact that he loved Jason and Slade despite what they did. He couldn't think of them as bad.

"He didn't have to tell me. I learned that on my own." None of the lessons had been easy. Dick wished Bruce could have been more of a father rather than a mentor. He knew now that Bruce hadn't wanted to act as if he were replacing his father. At the time, it had felt like a rejection. Hearing Slade talk about his children and compare what he'd done to Bruce made his heart sink. It was something he'd thought about before, but only when he'd felt embittered and frustrated at Bruce's inability to emote. The way he was had cost them all. Lives had been lost to it. Dick knew Slade saw the effects of his own upbringing and had his own thoughts about it. Slade was the one who slept next to Dick at night, who dealt with his frequent night terrors, a side effect from early exposure to fear gas and Joker venom. He found himself unable to speak up and defend Bruce this time. If anything, he didn't want to undermine what Slade said about his own kids. There was truth to it, even if Bruce had his reasons. Wincing, he shook his head again when Slade said he would kill them over and over. It made him wish, naively, that NOVA wouldn't come back to the city. He didn't think they'd give up that easily, but maybe it would slow them down long enough for the league to get the upper hand. Maybe they could end this sooner rather than later. It wasn't something he could focus on right now. Not when Slade was saying things like that to him, words that sliced right through him and tore into his heart. He could barely stand to hear them.

This time he didn't pull away from Slade's hold. His eyes stayed open, even though he couldn't see him at all behind the mask. He wanted to remove it. This wasn't what he wanted to think about when he closed his eyes. He wanted to see his face. "Don't... don't put this on me," he said, almost too quietly for the words to be understood; his voice was broken. "I wanted you. I risked everything for you, for this, because I thought..." Swallowing hard, his gaze drifted down to the woman next to him. "I thought you wanted it too. But this is the only thing you really love, isn't it? The only thing you really want."

The main bombs. There were more? Shocked, he looked up at him, suddenly realizing the high likelihood that members of the league could have been killed if he hadn't gotten here first. He quickly communicated the information to Babs, but he couldn't bring himself to move. To leave. There was no way he was going anywhere without Damian. "I'm getting everyone out."

Slade: Slade shook his head. He could see the betrayal in Dick's eyes. He could see how hurt he was. But Slade had anticipated that. It didn't mean he was sorry for what he had done. It didn't mean that he believed it to be the wrong call. He had done it for Dick and he'd do it again. A thousand times over. He would risk everything, including the security of the relationship, to keep him safe. "You know what I want, Dick. I haven't lied about that. Ever."

Still, the assassin understood a dismissal when he saw one. Falling back, he gave one last long and lingering gaze to the other before turning to get out. Radioing Damian, he told him to clear out, or to report to Dick. Whatever he was going to do. There was no time to dawdle.

When he made it into the fresh air, Slade didn't look back. He only prayed as he walked that his little bird had managed to take flight as the final explosions sounded against his retreating back. He winced with the first, but tasted bitter resolve with the second.

[nxrthmizu]

-Lordbug, Robin and Kitty Noir- Chapter Three: In Which Damian Falls Off A Building

/Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven//Part Eight//Part Nine//Part Ten//Part Eleven/

Description: FLUFF MORE FLUFF FLUFF ALL THE WAY LIKE IT’S CHRISTMAS (OOh maybe I’ll do a special Christmas chapter on Christmas week of DAMINETTE CHRISTMAS FLUFF YEA SOMEONE NEEDS TO DO THAT) also Damian falls off a building. 

Warnings: A little curses I guess, same as before 

---

Robin didn’t know where he was going but the final destination was totally not intended to be Dupain-Cheng’s balcony. He got... Lost. Admitting he was lost was better than to admit that he’d somehow strayed onto a girl’s balcony. 

“R- Um, who are you?” He nearly screeched, and the Robin does not screech. But when he turned around, he came face to face with the same black-clad girl who he’d fought with (As Lordbug) when the first akuma came around. 

“I’m Robin.” He had to remind himself not to tell her off for remembering his name. Afterall, it was her first time meeting him as Robin. 

“Oh. Hi, Robin, I’m Kitty Noir.” She smiled, and Damian couldn’t help but feel that the words were a little familiar. “So, you’re a superhero?” 

“Yeah.” Damian scoffed. Wasn’t it obvious? 

“Then...” She blushed, as if embarassed. “Could you teach me the ropes? I was only recently, um, pushed into this... Superhero business. Could you... Teach me?” 

Apparently, little angel wasn’t the only person Damian couldn’t say no to. 

---

“Be careful.” He warned as she prepared to leap off a building. Probably not what you encourage people to do, but hey. That was Damian. And he was teaching his... Superhero... Partner? Friend? Neighbor? how to successfully tap into her instincts. And if it wasn’t successful... Well, he hadn’t thought that far. Yet. He would think of it when the time came. If the time came. 

She nodded, taking a deep breath. Damian felt his chest constrict, as if he was worried. Scoffing to himself, he shook his head to clear out his mind. Why was he worried, anyway? She was the one who wanted to try it. He wasn’t responsible. 

“Here I go.” She breathed, extending her baton before she leaped off. Damian sucked in a breath. Was she alright- 

“Woo!” She swung right back up, triumphant. Landing a little clumsily on the next building, she sent Damian a bright grin. “I did it! Did you see?” 

Rolling his eyes and letting go of a breath he was for some reason holding, he nodded. “Yeah, I saw it. It wasn’t bad for a beginner like you.” He had intended the remark to be cutting, but the girl only beamed at him.

“Thanks so much, Robin.” 

And for some reason, Tikki was giggling again. It was honestly annoying to have a tiny spotted fairy constantly giggling at your ear. What was she giggling about this time? 

---

“That was great!” He was breathless. This girl that probably just started superhero work- Was amazing. She had managed to achieve everything he’d shown her so far. 

Kitty Noir blushed, feeling her cheeks flush on the autumn air. “Thanks to you, birdy.” 

He frowned at the nickname, but if he liked it, he didn’t show it. As they were heading back (To no apparent destination) Kitty Noir- Marinette- Couldn’t help but stare, because damn. That was one fine ass. 

Robin stopped abrubtly, but not before he was knocked off balance by the girl who failed to stop behind him. This ended up with him on the rooftop, pinned down. 

It was really awkward, and he could hear Tikki giggling again. 

“Um, I- I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you stop, I um, sorry so I- No wait! I’m sorry so- I’m so- So I’m- I’m sORRY!” She didn’t see him stop- She was really too busy staring at his ass. It was one fine ass. 

“Uh. It’s fine. Can you get up, please?” His voice was constricted and awkward and he couldn’t wait to get home. She nodded clumsily, getting off him- Before slipping. 

“Kitty!” He called out, watching her squeal as she desperately tried to find something to cling onto before nearing the edge of the rooftop, onto a five-floor-drop. His blood ran cold. 

Shooting off the grappling hook, he jumped, catching her by her waist right before she fell over the edge. “I’ve got you.” He told her, his breath panting. He looked around, trying to find a way so that they could land properly, but his left hand was already starting to ache by supporting her, and his right was holding onto his grappling hook. There was no way he’d be able to get a safe landing for the both of them. 

He unlatched the grappling hook, holding her to his chest as they plummeted towards the ground. Flipping her upwards so he’d absorb the impact, he groaned, making contact to the ground. Yep, at least two broken ribs and a dislocated arm. At least he was still alive. That was a bright side. 

---

“I uh... Fell off the... Stairs?” Explaining himself to little angel was a little difficult. Marinette looked at him with extreme worry. Well, he wasn’t that good of a sight. Apparently, he’d bruised half of his face when he fell, too. 

“R-Right. I know you’re lying, you know.” She crossed her arms. Of course she knew what really happened to Robin. She was the one that caused him such injuries. After they got up, he’d checked that she was fine- (Even when he was the one that took the fall!) and said that he’d go find his... Friend, Marinette. Kitty Noir had panicked, of course, and made up a crappy excuse to rush home. Robin, who was probably too injured to protest, watched her go before he shot off his grappling hook, getting to little angel’s place. “Sit down, I’ll get you some hot chocolate and some bandages.” 

Robin nodded thankfully. He wasn’t sure how Fu would’ve dealt with him getting home with broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder- And he was quite sure he didn’t want to find out, as he suspected that the man was still angry at him. 

“Damian!” Tikki immediately fussed over him the moment Marinette was out of hearing. “Oh god, you’re so injured!” She squealed. Robin hissed at her. 

“Don’t use my name. Not here.” He told her sternly, but it seemed as if the Kwami had gotten completely used to him using harsh tones on her, and only proceeded to worry over him. 

“Let me help.” Tikki murmured, using her tiny flap-like hands to create a small glowing ball, pressing it into Damian’s chest. Immediately, he felt his ribs piece themselves back together, and his back’s soreness- Well, it got slightly better. 

When they heard Marinette coming up the stairs, though, Tikki quickly hid back inside his hood. 

“I got you some chocolate.” She smiled, handing him the cup. “It’s hot though, so be careful.” She begin to set down some of the other things she had brought- Bandages, disinfectant- The usual things that Alfred would have once the Bats returned from a hectic day of patrol. She dabbed gently at his wounds as he sipped on the hot chocolate, feeling the warm liquid dribble down his throat, providing more aid to soothing his extremely sore back that he’d fell on. Honestly, he could’ve died if he snapped his neck. However, probably thanks to Tikki’s luck- He didn’t. He knew it was the right choice to let the Kwami tag onto his patrol nights.

“You’re really battered up. It’s a miracle you even survived.” Marinette murmured under her breath. “Stupid selfless idiot.” 

“Stupid selfless what?” Robin raised an eyebrow. The girl only blushed more, not saying anything else. “Stupid selfless what?” He repeated. 

Marinette huffed at him. “Kitty Noir dropped over just now. She told me what happened and told me to prepare my first aid kit.” She could hear Plagg’s approval at the flawless spontaneous lie she’d come up with on the spot. 

Robin sighed. That explained it. There were already some bandages and bottles of medicine on the balcony when he dropped by. That explained why she was so ready for him. And also why she didn’t believe his ‘I fell off the stairs’ theory. 

“You stupid selfless idiot.” Marinette repeated, agitating herself as she said the same phrase again, dabbing on his wounds a little harder as he winced. As soon as she noticed this movement, she apologized hastily. “Sorry.” She sighed. “I’m just worried about you.” 

“I’m fine, angel.” Robin smiled, carressing her face gently. “I’m fine.” 

“A-Angel?” She stuttered, blushing wildly. “W-What’s with the nickname?” 

Robin shrugged. “You’re just an angel. You’re not as insufferable as everyone else, you’re kind, generous, and you mind space. That makes you already better than fifty percent of the population. And it makes you my personal angel.” 

Maybe... That glint was already in him.

(Tag List: @yin-390 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @constancetruggle @the-navistar-carol @never-neverland @rayray384 @mystery-5-5 @black-streak @bluerosette23 )

There we go! Another chapter! This one is slightly shorter because of the time constraint :( sowy (AUTHOR CAN’T SPELL SORRY RIGHT)

I’m really sorry if I miss your name in the tag list because my laptop’s tumblr is real messy and laggy so I’m trying to get a hang of everything. 

On the other hand I got 12 followers in one day

It’s a miracle 

Thank you guys so much I can’t express how much I love you all right now 

So right now Marinette’s kind of how Marinette normally is for Adrien but for Robin, Damian’s a bro-friend sort of thing, and to Damian/Lordbug/Robin Marinette is a little angel and a gift to the world. Later we’re going to have Kitty Noir head-over-heels for Robin the way Chat is head-over-heels for ladybug. No more spoilers though!

Again, before this author’s note gets too long, message me if any mistakes were spotten (See what I did there?) because I didn’t proof-read the chapter really well. 

[alittlefoxedup]

An Unexpected Reunion p2

Hey, sorry this is late, but I totally decided to do this whole week thing last minute. I have no idea how to link posts, but I come bringing fluff.

Day 2: Omega and pup

Jason held his phone between his cheek and shoulder. He hadn’t been able to sleep knowing this call was coming. Damian only managed to call once a month. The family didn’t know, and Jason wasn’t sure how Damian was keeping it a secret. It didn’t matter as long as he kept calling.

Damian chattered away about the dog Bruce had gotten him and other important issues of eleven year olds. Titus was apparently smarter than his classmates, and Tim was sighing just to annoy Damian. His nonstop talking always rolled back around to the dog though.

Arms wrapping around his waist scared Jason more than he’d ever admit. He managed to keep his mouth shut even though Roy deserved to be chewed out. He’d been very touchy the past couple of weeks. Three missions and four months under the same roof must be when Roy gets comfortable with someone. Jason wasn’t fighting it, but he didn’t understand. Was it just how Roy was or something more?

“Ahki? Is something wrong?”

“I’m still here. I was just trying not to burn breakfast.”

Roy took the spatula out of Jason’s hands and spun him away from the slightly crisp pancakes. The shooing motion was understood but not followed. Jason couldn’t get his brain to move past Roy not wearing a shirt. His scent mixed with the pancakes and bacon was not something Jason wanted to move away from.

The smirk and eyebrow wiggling quickly changed Jason’s mind. Jason refused to boost Roy’s ego. He sat down at the island and only watched Roy’s back muscles a little bit. Jason wasn’t going to mess up his call just because Roy wanted attention.

“Mother said you’ve been working with someone.” Damian was good at asking questions without actually asking a question. It had taken Jason a month to teach him to not outright demand answers.

“Yeah, I am. I’m busy when she’s free and vise versa so she hasn’t gotten to meet him yet.”

“I doubt he is worthy of your time.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “We’ve talked about this. You don’t get to decide who I hang out with.”

“Mother says he’s an alpha. He will pursue you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You are a qualified omega.”

“Qualified?”

“Yes. You have learned how to manage a household and defend it. You are not unattractive.”

“That’s so sweet.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“It is the truth. Only the best alpha should have the honor of courting you.”

Jason snorted. “Uh huh.”

“I am not being funny.”

“That’s why I’m laughing. I love the way you phrase things is all.”

“I don’t understand what you find so humorous. Your worth is not a laughing matter.”

“I know, I know. Dami, I know exactly what face your making when you say stuff like that. It’s really cute.”

Damian huffed. “I am not cute. Pennyworth will be here shortly. I will speak to you soon.”

“Bye, stay out of trouble.”

Roy set down a sizable stack of pancakes and two plates. He was still shirtless when he drowned his pancakes his syrup. Jason put a reasonable amount like a normal person and tried to ignore the fact that Roy was using the bars on his stool as a foot rest. Their legs were almost touching.

“So how’s the pup?”

“He thinks I’m a qualified omega.”

Roy choked and laughed at the same time. “Oh, yes. I’ve see your qualifications and concur. Smart, gorgeous, a good cook, gorgeous, and a badass.”

“You said gorgeous twice.”

“Because you’re extra pretty.”

“Shut up.” Jason felt heat rise to his face and tried to hide it.

Roy made a satisfied alpha noise that Jason didn’t know how to describe. “So damn pretty.”

Jason tried to ignore him and go about the rest of his day. Unfortunately, Roy had been turned into a lost puppy overnight and stayed close but strangely quiet. Having someone blatantly stare at him made reading and research difficult. That and Roy still refused to put on a shirt. The house was cool enough so Jason was sure Roy had motives but couldn’t figure them out.

“Why don’t you just go see him?” Roy took the laptop out of Jason’s hands as he finally settled on what he wanted to say.

“I told you I can’t. It was the last order he gave me. I’m sticking to it.”

“What if Talia ordered you to check on Damian?”

Jason furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“You said Talia was your mom so you’d have to listen to her even if it went against a certain asshole’s orders. It would be an exception that he doesn’t even have to know about even though I don’t think you should follow something so ridiculous.”

“That’s a poorly constructed loophole. Not happening.”

“He’d never know!”

“I would. I don’t want to do it.”

“Jay.” Roy leaned in and held Jason’s face in his hands. “You told me you missed Damian so much it hurts. A good alpha would never do something to bring pain to a pack member. He made it clear you’re not in his pack. You don’t have to listen to him. It’s not going to convince him you’re telling the truth.”

Jason couldn’t stop his whine as he tried to pull away.

“I know it hurts. You are the most selfless person I’ve met. You can be selfish for once. I hate seeing you suffer over this. I know Talia would be happy to help. We could make him think Damian’s visiting with Talia and maybe surprise Damian at the same time. That’d be fun, right babe?”

“Yeah, it would be, but it won’t work.”

“It will. Give me Talia’s number, and we’ll figure it out while you pack.”

“You mean go now?”

Roy nodded. “As soon as Talia can do it.”

Talia could be in Gotham in a week. Jason trusted Talia’s planning abilities but was skeptical of Roy’s. There had to be something in this for Roy. Just because Jason couldn’t figure out what it was didn’t mean it didn’t exist. There was no way Roy would risk running into Dick without a very good reason.

Roy was not going to be allowed to make hotel reservations ever again. Jason liked the distance from where Talia was staying, but he had concerns about their room. Roy had only gotten one room with one bed. The couch was obnoxiously small and looked uncomfortable. There were no excuses or explanations given. The only curtesy Jason received was Roy agreeing to wear pants.

It wasn’t even a king bed. Jason was painfully aware of all two inches that separated him from an alpha who was incredibly pleased with himself. The fact that one of them had to be the adult and it wasn’t Roy was the only thing that kept Jason from kicking him.

An hour of restlessness ended with Roy muttering under his breath. Jason lowered his guard to try to understand what Roy was saying and deeply regretted it. Roy wrapped his arms around Jason’s waist and pulled him against his chest. He threw one leg over Jason’s and started rumbling. Jason hated how much it worked but slept better than he had in a long time.

Jason left for Talia’s hotel room mid morning, grateful Roy hadn’t mentioned anything from the previous night. Being cuddled into submission was not something Jason had planned. Stupid alphas and their annoying good looks. Jason shook his head. He was there to see Damian not think about how tightly Roy held him. Hopefully, Roy wouldn’t get into too much trouble without him.

Talia let him in silently. Damian didn’t notice until the door closed. He stopped pulling out things from his backpack and froze for a second. Jason managed to slip off his jacket in time for Damian to practically leap into his arms. Damian smelled like Wayne Pack. Jason set about fixing that quickly.

After a quick greeting, Damian cut straight to the point. “Why do you let an alpha scent you?”

Jason ignored the pointed look from Talia. “He didn’t scent me. We were just in close quarters recently.”

“Why would you allow him to come with you?”

Jason didn’t have an answer. Roy could have easily stayed in their safehouse. Archers didn’t always make sense so Jason hadn’t thought much of it. It didn’t really matter as long as Roy didn’t get into any trouble. Jason just shrugged and steered Damian into talking about what he’d been up to.

The day ended too quickly. It had been fun and well needed. Talia brought only the best of nesting materials, and Damian showed off his artwork. Jason had managed to get Damian smelling like pack if only for a few moments. He couldn’t go home like that or Bruce would know or keep Talia away. It might have been overkill, but Jason felt better covering his tracks.

All that was left to do was fall into bed. The room was empty when he made it back before nightfall. Jason hoped Roy hadn’t slipped up. If he didn’t hear back in an hour, he’d check the closest bars. Roy would definitely sleep on the couch if Jason had to deal with entitled drunken alphas.

Halfway through getting ready for bed, Roy walked back in completely devoid of any scent with a ziplock bag of cookies. “How’d it go?”

“Good. What’d you do?”

“Went to talk with my sponsor.”

Jason cocked his head and leaned against the bathroom door frame. “I didn’t know Killer Croc was a baker.”

“Bet he only makes frog cakes. No, I needed to do something. Alfred gave them to me.”

“What did you do?”

Roy sighed and rubbed his face. “Nothing that could be possibly linked to you. I didn’t trust Dick not to spy on Damian so I distracted him. I don’t want to talk about it. I hope the cookies make up for the room thing. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“You can’t just drop it at that.”

“You gonna tell me why you really saved me? If you get a secret, I get one to. I’ll tell you when I’m good and ready. Eat your damn cookies and let me sleep.”

The cookies tasted like home, but Roy’s arms felt like home.

[gooddadstan]

Late Night Hugs

Prompt 2: Nightmares. Don’t be afraid to request one if you feel like it!

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/22335715)

It had been a while since Bruce had woken up to screaming. Between being dead, his children being scattered across the globe, his restless nights spent in the cave… Months, at the least. He blames that for why he wasn’t the one there first.

He slides up to the door with his usual swift, practiced grace, and hears murmuring from beyond the crack in the door. It takes him less than a second to place it, even with the voice being more soothing coos than actual coherent phrases. It’s Stephanie. Bruce didn’t even know Stephanie was in Gotham, much less the manor. He frowned at that, making a mental note to update his security system and keep better watch in his allies. He didn’t want anyone else stuck somewhere he couldn’t get to them.

Peeking through the door, he can’t explain to himself why he doesn’t go through. Damian needed comfort, but Stephanie was in there and he couldn’t bring himself to go in and have to deal with the tension. So he stood outside. Like a real emotionally competent person would. Yup, there are no glaring issues with this situation. None at all. Dick would have been yelling at him if the boy was anywhere near Gotham, he’s sure.

Inside the room, Stephanie stood by Damian’s bed, both arms holding Damian’s to keep him from clawing at his chest, his arms and legs, his neck. There were already red splotches of blood on the once pristine sheets. She’s repeating every calming mantra she can think of, and scrambling every few seconds to add more to her rotation. She has to brace one knee against the mattress to get the leverage she needs, and she’s certain that the hits she’d taken in the process of creating the hold would leave bruises. She holds strong through the kicks, his attempts to free his arms that they aren’t quite long enough to work for, doesn’t wince at the screams that never seem to stop ripping out of his throat.

Minutes pass, and the screams and thrashes from the bed begin to slow. His throat screamed raw, he breathes in ragged breaths, and Steph can feel his heart rate speeding up beneath her fingers as he slides quickly into consciousness. The instant tensing of his muscles underneath her hands is enough of a warning for the step back, and as soon as he finishes the practiced movements meant to get him out of the hold, his eyes open. They’re green, a shining, acidic green that Steph has seen too many times to not know what it means.

She raises both hands in a placating gesture and watches as Damian forces his muscles to relax. “Is there a reason for your presence here, Brown?” And Steph knows that nightmares aren’t a light matter in this family. Steph knows that it’s easy to revert to old habits in the hazy awareness he’d be stuck in after a nightmare. Hell, she appreciates that she can use what name Damian calls her to gauge how bad the nightmare shook him. But they were past this whole ‘Brown’ thing. They had been for a while. She wouldn’t admit to him even in the daytime that it hurt.

Taking full advantage of that bat-training grace, Steph almost glides to sit on the bed next to Damian. “You were having a nightmare, kid, with the screams and scratching and everything.” She’d been here after nightmares many times. She knew he knew why she was here, and that he knew she was the one who was holding him when he was still asleep. She also knew that this pretense helped ease him into some sense of calm. So she went along with it, every time.

Damian makes a noise of affirmation in the back of his throat, indicating that he heard her, but no words follow. Steph turns to face him more fully, scanning his face for the familiar cues that she can rarely find in the daytime. She can almost feel the creases on his face under her fingers, patterns too familiar and too deep, and she does her best to ignore the heavy sadness that settles in her chest. On Wonder Woman this boy needs a hug.

She opens her arms wide, taking care to telegraph every movement before it happens, and wraps them softly around the tense puddle of nerves that Damian had become. The hand that wrapped around his head ran through his hair as soothingly as she could make it, and she kept her grip light enough that there was no doubt he could escape if he wanted to.

He sits tensely in the hold for more than a minute, unmoving and unresponsive, until all at once his muscles relax again and he melts into the hug. He pushes his face into the fabric of Steph’s shirt like he could disappear into it if he pushes hard enough. His arms wrap around Steph’s stomach, holding as tight as he could, and Steph tightens her own grip in turn. They rock slowly back and forth, and Steph doesn’t comment on the growing moisture on the front of her shirt. She never does.

“Damian, is this a talking night or no?” Her voice is nothing higher than a whisper into his hair, but he hears her. He always seems to, after nightmares.

There’s a few seconds of hesitation, and Steph’s so incredibly proud of him every time this happens, that he’s actually willing to accept the help that she’s offering instead of shrugging it off with harsh words and harsher actions like he did when he first arrived. The kid’s grown, and she doesn’t think he hears how proud people are of him enough. But she feels the shift of his shaking head on her torso, and lets him bring the movement to a stop before responding.

“That’s okay, Dami, let’s go clean those scratches though.” She lightly peels him from her, and gives him an encouraging smile. “I’m going to go get the first aid kit and a glass of water for you, how about you take account of what’s there, yeah?” He gives a stiff nod, and there’s not a moment between the nod and Stephanie’s controlled gait towards the nearest kitchen.

She sideyes Bruce the moment she shuts the door behind her. Motioning for him to follow her, she waits until they’re halfway to the kitchen before she speaks. “Was there a reason you decided to just wait outside the door instead of coming in to comfort your own child?” Her whisper turns to a hiss before a sigh, and one hands drags down her face in exhaustion.

“You had the situation handled.” His words were stiff even to him.

Steph doesn’t pause at the threshold to the kitchen, moving straight to one of the first aid kits. “And yet you still observed.” She doesn’t hide the exhaustion in her voice, and Bruce is forcefully made aware of the fact that Steph had patrolled that night by the brand new bandages on her forearm.

“...Yes.” The sound of the first aid kit being set down on the countertop punctuates her nodding, and she turns to the upper cabinetry with her eyes entirely focused on Bruce.

“Christ, Bruce, we already did the heavy lifting on teaching the kid how to communicate, you’ve had to have noticed that. All you have to do is start a conversation about something he cares about.” There’s a stiff silence, and Steph steps up onto the counter to grab a specific glass from the top shelf.

“And what does he care about.” Steph might have dropped the glass at that if it weren’t for the fact that she’d been at this end of the man’s emotion incompetence for years at this point, but it doesn’t stop the long-suffering sigh from taking a good ten seconds.

With one finger, she points directly at Bruce as she steps off the counter. “Find that out first. And actually ask him, don’t go around stalking your own kids. Again.” And maybe Steph has been around this family too much if she knows that Bruce would rather stalk his kids for weeks on end to get information than just ask them a simple question.

Bruce maintains his silence throughout the time it takes for the glass to be filled with water. Fumbling around for something to say, he can’t particularly explain why the next thing out of his mouth is “You did good with him, Stephanie.”

She stops in her tracks, first aid kit in one hand and full glass of water in the other. Her head tilts to look at him out of the corner of her eye, blue eyes staring directly into his. “I tried my best. Dick was the only other one to do that for him. You should too.” And she’s gone, leaving Bruce to stand there in the kitchen.

The next morning, Bruce watched Damian closely. Stephanie had left hours ago, but the bandages hidden under Damian’s pajama pants were well applied and he’s certain that the girl didn’t leave that room again until there were at least ten more minutes of hugging. Damian was… tired, which was to be expected, but he also seemed… happier. Like that reminder that there were people who would stand by him, who would help him after a nightmare or offer solidarity in restless nights, meant the world to him. Bruce supposed it did.

And Stephanie’s words still ringing about in his head, he resolved to finally do something he should have done long ago. Taking a measured sip of his coffee, he keeps his eyes on his newspaper as he asks, “So Damian, how would you like to go to the hobby store?”

[forthemultiverse]

Peace - Damian Wayne x Reader

The first time Damian Wayne kissed you, it hadn’t meant to start anything. 

“Why is everyone acting crazy?” Damian asked you. He hadn’t been at the party over the weekend, much to your disappointment, and he had no idea why people were whispering and acting crazy. 

“Jenna kissed both Mick and Spencer, who also kissed Bridget, who pushed him off her declaring that she wanted to kiss Sara, who kissed Mick to piss off Jenna for kissing Spencer.” you rambled the events you’d watched unfold. 

“And that’s a big deal because?”

“Sara liked Spencer and Jenna knew, and Jenna liked Mick, which Sara knew. And they’re not angry at Bridget because one, she came out so isn’t the competition, two, she only kissed Spencer at all because of Spin the Bottle.”

“Spin the bottle?”

“Kissing game, everyone sits in a circle, you spin a bottle, and whoever it lands on, you have to kiss.”

“So who did you kiss?”

“No one!” you rolled your eyes, “I didn’t play.”

“Why not?”

“No reason,“ you shrugged, knowing he could tell you were hiding something, "None of your business.” There were quite a few reasons you hadn’t decided to join in on the game.

“Why not?”

“You’ll laugh at me if I tell you the reason.”

“I won’t laugh at you.”

“Fine.” you thought through which reasons you could get away with saying. The biggest reason was that he wasn’t there, and Damian was the only boy you wanted to kiss at the moment. You weren’t going to tell him that though. He was a Wayne. He’d never mentioned any girls to you, so you were pretty sure he didn’t like anyone, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a hoard of girls swarming him at every gala or some secret girlfriend out of school. “I’ve never kissed anyone before, and if it’s going to be my first kiss, I want it to be with someone I like.”

“So a boyfriend?”

“Not necessarily, I mean, you can regret the boys you date, just someone I trust, and that I like.”

“Why would I laugh at you?”

“Because you’re Damian Wayne and you’ve probably kissed a bunch of girls,”

“Why would you think that?”

“The flirt persona you put on for the press?”

“I guess…” he paused, “But like you said, that’s a persona, I’ve never kissed anyone either…so I wouldn’t laugh at you. I hadn’t even thought about it until now.”

“Seriously?” You weren’t sure why you were surprised, you were his first real friend at school, and his friend group had morphed from yours. If his out of school friends, Rachel and Jon and the other guys he’d shown you pictures of, never talked about this teenager stuff with him - Damian probably hadn’t ever thought about kissing before.

“I don’t think I’d want it to be decided by a bottle either.” He agreed.

“Well everyone loves the drama Spin the Bottle’s created and wants to play it all the time now, all the chats want to do it this lunch.” You showed Damian your phone and two different chats trying to organise a game. Everyone was desperate to kiss someone and seem cool and mature. You weren’t even sure who had added you to the chats. Damian was popular because he was hot, and you were popular by association. Before being his friend, you got invited to all the parties, but you weren’t considered one of the cool kids, just someone who could roll with them if you had too. 

“Well, we like each other.”

“What?” you asked, not sure what he was trying to say.

“If everyone’s trying to kiss each other and you said you wanted to kiss someone you like, we like each other.” You felt your face heat up as he spoke, he was facing forward and not looking at you. “I mean that we’re friends and all so we could kiss and get it over with?”

“Not the best phrasing.” you laughed, the day Damian became straightforward and said what he meant would be a day the world ended. Over the years you’d hopefully learn to understand what he meant when he spoke harshly. “But I guess it would work.”

You were freaking out a bit inside, not sure if this was how you wanted your first kiss with Damian to go. You also thought about whether it was wrong to use him like this, he just wanted to get his kiss out of the way while you wanted to kiss him. Was it fair to let him kiss you while you were crushing on him so much? Your thoughts stopped dead as he stopped walking, grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him.

“Are you sure you want me to kiss you?” his voice was soft and low, so close to you that you could hear the melody of his voice perfectly. You didn’t say anything, you just nodded, lost in his eyes.

His lips were soft, the kiss light. You’d stopped breathing for a second, feeling something move in your mind as he kissed you. The world had stopped with you. Silence as nothing mattered, except you two. The silence was shattered as you both breathed out in the same second. The sound of the world kicked in. The wind was blowing; people were walking around and chatting, doors opening, chairs moving. Your phone was receiving a text.

Even with the rest of the world back, your mind was at peace; you’d never felt so at ease.

You vaguely registered Damian whispering a hello as you started to blink.

“Anyway, we should probably get going.” Damian was acting like the pair of you hadn’t just kissed, and you thought maybe he hadn’t felt the spark.

“Yeah, what’s our next class?” You had been walking around the side of the school and break was nearly over, he was right, you did have somewhere to be.

The second time Damian Wayne kissed you, it made your brain freeze and your heart stop. You assumed that the pause was the reason he avoided you for a week after.

You’d broken your wrist, and you weren’t coping with it very well. Not only were exams coming up, but you had signed up to dance for the school fundraiser. You were desperately trying to teach the dance to someone else now you couldn’t perform it, freaking out for how little time you had before exams, and trying to balance finally getting a job on top of all that. 

After you’d missed the second class in one day, Damian had come to find you. It wasn’t like you to ditch lessons (well more than one every few weeks). He hadn’t expected to see you behind the school, pretty much about to break down, surrounded by homework and school work alike. 

“Damian?” you started shaking slightly and tried to hide your face. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Why not? I’m your friend; I just want to make sure you’re okay…” 

To Damian, you hadn’t been a friend for a long time now. He’d realised he felt strongly for you awhile ago, and finally kissing you had just confirmed what he feared. He had felt a spark and finally understood why Tim and Stephanie always seemed so smiley together, or why his Dad needed Selina in his life. His mind was always working, but with you, it paused. It paused, and he could have peace, even if it were just for a few minutes. 

“I can’t do this. I can’t keep up in class, I can’t work, and I need too now since my dad lost his job and we’re short on money, I can’t teach someone a dance meant for me if I can’t show them what they’re supposed to do and they can’t choreograph it themselves since they don’t know how to choreograph…”

“Shhh…” he grabbed your good arm and pulled you to your feet, “Just relax.”

“I can’t relax! Everything’s crazy, and I can’t focus! And -”

“It’s really okay; you don’t need to be so stressed, I can help you.”

“I’m a failure; I can’t do anything anymore -”

“You are anything but a failure,” he laughed, “You keep me positive, you’re strong enough to even try and manage all of this, you put up with me, and I know that must be tough. You couldn’t be more amazing, and everything will be alright,” he was walking around you and guiding your hand up and down till you turned with him.

“I don’t put up with you.” you smiled down, and he came closer to you, placing your hand on his neck and his on your waist, leaning down slowly. You weren’t sure what was happening, but you weren’t going to stop it.

“Can I kiss you again?” you moved your face up slightly to nod, letting his lips touch yours. 

The stress melted away; you forgot everything that you knew was going to go wrong over the next few weeks. With Damian kissing you, you could believe all the lies, that everything would sort itself out. Everything stopped for you, even when he pulled away, you were at bliss for a moment. 

“You ready to go to class?” He didn’t retake your hand, just waited for you to nod and pack up your things. 

The Third time Damian kissed you, he wasn’t Damian Wayne. He was Robin. And the moment of peace the kiss had caused you made you realised the two were one in the same. By this time you knew Damian’s love like the back of your hand.

It was the small things he did for you after the second kiss that gave him away. Always buying you coffee on his way to school so you didn’t have to, having collected your lunch before you got to the cafeteria, saving your seat whenever you were late to class, walking you to each of your classes even when his were on the opposite side of the school. The way he drew you in his books without noticing he’d been doodling till you asked him to show you. You had noticed though. You’d noticed and didn’t understand why he didn’t just tell you he liked you. The sparks that went through your body whenever his hand touched your arm, the way he smiled at you - a smile no one else got to see. 

Genuine, bright, happy. 

You loved almost everything about him, and you didn’t doubt he probably felt the same way back. No one could fake the way he was with you, and no one acted like him unless they were in love. You weren’t even sure why you didn’t confront him anymore. You just respected that he was waiting for something. Damian usually had some kind of plan no matter the situation. 

The first scream could be heard from all over the school. The gunshot followed. Everyone, including you, started calling the police even though you didn’t know exactly what had happened. You’d all seen enough news reports about school shootings not to wait until the gun was in your classroom to phone. It was daytime, so the chance of the Dark Knight showing up quickly was low, and you kind of wanted to phone Damian. He had art while you were in music. You couldn’t call him, what if he was in the classroom with the gun and his phone going off got him shot. 

You waited and waited. After the initial calls had gone out, the police had told you all to stop phoning, and everyone was silent. Waiting for the second shot, or an all-clear to show that everything was okay and the threat was gone. You knew Gotham wasn’t the safest town, but you thought you’d be safe at school. It was when the door opened, and two men marched in, their guns raised, you were hit with the reality of the situation. 

“Where’s Damian Wayne?” they demanded, searching the faces for him. 

That calmed you a little bit, they hadn’t shot him already, but they were looking for him. They were probably angry and Wayne Enterprises or something, god knows what for since Wayne Enterprises was a good company, but now they were going to shoot Damian to get to Bruce, or to get revenge on Bruce for sponsoring Batman. It was sick and twisted, and you felt yourself stand up. You weren’t going to let them find him, but you weren’t going to allow them to shoot anyone else in the room trying to look for him.

“He’s ditching this period, he’s not here,” you spoke clearly, tensing every muscle in your body to stop yourself shaking. 

“And how do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“I can take you to where he is…he ditches lessons he doesn’t like to go sketch.” 

One of the men grabbed your shoulder and placed the gun on your neck, holding you tight and expecting you lead the way still. As you walked them through the corridors, you felt yourself start to cry. You didn’t make a sound; you just let the tears drip slowly down your face as you tried to ignore the gun. Some people were screaming for you; the teachers had locked their classroom doors. You didn’t make any eye contact because you’d know you’d break down if you did. You had to get them out of the building, even if they’d shoot you once they realised you’d lied. They were probably going to kill you after they’d shot Damian anyway. 

You were nearly at the school door when a side window smashed open. Robin was swinging in furiously, moving quickly to knock the guns to the floor and take you to safety. You didn’t even see Batman with him, but you could hear an angry voice coming from somewhere on the Robin costume. 

When he dropped you on the roof, you finally broke. The feeling of the gun still there, no matter how many times you rubbed your neck to try and make it go away. Your breathing stopped, and you decided to grab at anything that would prevent you from falling to the floor. Your vision started to go white, slowly closing in but opening out again each time you’d nearly collapse. Your were gripping Robin as you slowly sank to your knees, finally letting go as you could touch the floor and lean back slightly. You’d never had a panic attack, or whatever this was, before, and you weren’t sure what to do.

That was when Robin kissed you. Everything went black; your breathing stopped altogether. But you didn’t pass out, you weren’t shaking; you were at peace. Even with a mask on, you knew this was Damian. The softness of his lips, the way he moved to place his arms on your back, the way everything in your head stopped. You were no longer panicking, you were safe and relaxed. Only Damian could make you feel this way. Butterflies were moving around your body, all the pain stopping, forgetting everything except each other.

“Damian.” You whispered. He was relieved you figured it out. Otherwise, it was just Robin kissing some girl to stop a panic attack. He had needed that kiss as much as you had. He’d seen you about to be shot, he’d seen you about to be hurt, and everything in his head went wild. He couldn’t think, he was moving without planning, he needed the peace that you gave him.  “Go, you need to save everyone else.” You’d woken up now, and remembered why Robin had taken you to a rooftop. 

“Batman’s there now…”

“Bruce is Batman?” You didn’t know what else to say, kissing him was hardly the most important thing to happen that day. 

You had hoped that if he ever kissed you for the fourth time, it would be the start of a relationship. You’d been wrong. Instead, you were both hiding in one of the roof caverns of the Batcave. He hadn’t explained to his dad that someone knew his identity, and he wanted to avoid having that discussion. That didn’t stop you from wanting some kind of explanation on the whole Robin situation. 

He’d decided the best way to explain it all would be to give you a tour of the Batcave. That way he could show and tell, and he’d always been a more visual person  - he’d think of all the years he’d awkwardly trip over what was socially acceptable to say now he had to interact with the public like Bruce. How Dick told him he had to make friends when Bruce finally sent him to an actual school, but how he didn’t want to change who he was (Damian hadn’t realised what was so wrong about the way he was before). He’d grown up, he’d realised connections were important after his sharp exterior had almost ruined an essential deal for Bruce. Damian just wanted to make everyone proud. He had to wear the Wayne mask. How many times had he accidentally insulted someone because he didn’t want them to view his emotions as weakness. You’d kicked him in the shin during your first interaction because he’s called you average and overly emotional, just because you’d been talking about how much you loved your friends. You’d reminded him that at least you had friends and then just straight up ignored his existence for six months after. He’d try to make a comment, and you didn’t even look at him. It was like he didn’t exist.

That had hurt him in his core. He needed to be seen, that’s why he worked so hard and acted so over the top. He was Robin, he had to be seen as the one real Robin. He was Damian Wayne, the blood son. He just wanted to be in the picture, and you’d somehow managed to wound him worse than any insult ever could. You’d made him invisible. Then one day you just sat down with him at lunch and started talking like nothing was wrong. He’d tried asking you about it at the time, but you’d ignored the question and continued talking. 

“Why did you start talking to me again?” he whispered, looking away from Bruce and Dick talking at the computer. He wanted to rip out his heart for how fast it was beating, mainly because you were close enough to feel it. You just had that effect on him, and he wanted it to stop. He wanted the itchy hands and spinning head to stop, but you’d cast a spell on him that only one thing seemed to break. 

“I’ve still never told you?” you smiled, gripping tightly on to him in the small space. You didn’t know just how secure the ceiling cavern was. 

“I stopped asking.”

“I felt bad. I lock people out of my life if they do something which makes me angry ‘cos I like to try and be positive, but I never really gave you a chance to be positive. I then saw you sitting all alone and sketching, and I wanted to know what you were drawing. My friend said you were suddenly better with people, so I thought I give you a second shot. Everyone deserves to sit with someone at lunch, and you were always sitting on your own.”

“You felt sorry for me then, my friend out of sympathy?”

“At first, yeah, but then you were nice, so I started to like you. Plus, you drew really nice pictures of me, helped me with my work, and were really cute. Don’t go thinking I’m only here out of sympathy, I really like you, Damian, and I know you now think I don’t, which is why I never told you.” 

You didn’t like being this high up, but you trusted Damian, you were a little be in love with him after all. You also knew he’d be in trouble if you screamed so when he untangled his arms you made a soft squeak sound, he wouldn’t be letting you go if it wasn’t safe. 

He wouldn’t be letting you go if it wasn’t safe. 

He wouldn’t be letting you go if it wasn’t safe.

You took a deep breath that was cut short as he moved his hands, cupping your face gently. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“You always ask…” you leant forward as he moved to kiss you again. This time was longer than all the other ones but just as gentle, like he was waiting for you to push him away or tell him to stop.

“Damian!” Bruce yelled up, wearing the cowl, “I know you’re up there and whoever you’re hiding in the cave, you know I have camera’s in here!”

“Someone’s in trouble!” Dick teased, snapping you both out of your bubble of peace. He wrapped an arm around your waist and lowered you both to the floor so he could explain what happened before Bruce got too angry. Of course, he left out a few details, changing how you figured out he was Robin. Once again, neither of you got to talk about the kiss after it happened, and both of you were moving on like it didn’t. 

The fifth time, you kissed him. And, you weren’t going to let him ignore it anymore. You didn’t want to ignore it anymore.

You watched as the news tried to explain what was going on. Half of Gotham had been on lockdown in the morning, and now all the fighting was in one building. Everyone was still advised to stay inside, but there was no way in hell you were going to sit there and wait for an all clear. You needed to know what was happening. All you could think about was Damian getting hurt and lying on the floor bleeding out. Your parents weren’t going to let you leave, and you tried just to stay inside, but when the building was on fire, you stopped. Your breathing was hard and panicked as you climbed out of your window and started trying to get to the centre of Gotham.

You had put on one of his jackets, and oversized jumper that’s hood could cover your face slightly. You wanted a change from the usual pattern you and Damian had fallen into, you wished for a change. No more moments of him kissing you then never mentioning it again and expecting you to act as he did. Up till then, you had worked just like he did. It was just as much your fault as his, but the idea of him dying in some stupid fight when you couldn’t even explain to your parents why you were worried about Robin, was cruel. You needed to kiss him, you needed to be with him, you needed to have a solid answer to the relationship before it was too late. Maybe it was selfish, but in the end, it would help both of you out. You couldn’t deal with him just kissing you randomly, stopping your world, but not explaining why he didn’t do it all the time. When you kissed everything made sense, it felt right and perfect. Peace beyond any regular teen crush. If he died, you’d never feel that way again. If he died, he’d never know you wanted to be with him. He’d die thinking you were just too polite to push him away. 

He had decided that you didn’t like him the way he loved you. His reasoning for never following up on kissing you was fear of rejection. He didn’t want to let himself be hurt like that, and he didn’t want to lie to you either. Until you knew about Robin, he would never do anything more than kiss you. He’d only meant to kiss you once anyway. All the other times he just felt guilty about it. He hadn’t been able to control himself. He’d always asked you, except for when you were in panic attack mode, but just because you hadn’t pushed him away didn’t mean you wanted him to kiss you again. That was all he could think about as he tried to rescue everyone from the final building the criminal gang had decided to raid. He could only think of you, and it was causing him to mess up. His aim was off, his punches were either too strong or too weak, and Batman could tell. When Robin was off his game, that distracted Batman, and then Batman was off his game, and everything took so much longer than it should. 

It was a surprise that they almost captured every gang member in the building without getting hurt, but that didn’t mean his costume was in one piece. You could see the blood everywhere, bruises starting to form very slowly. The police were taking criminals away, but he couldn’t even be proud of himself. He couldn’t think about how such a city-wide attack could just happen. He thought about everything at once, words tumbling into one another and thoughts mashing together until they were useless mush. He couldn’t focus, everything was a hurricane in his head and the only thing he was sure of, was that he wanted to make sure you were okay. But if he left, Bruce would want an explanation, and he couldn’t just go over in his Robin costume without some camera operator following him and taking a picture. Plus your parents were probably with you.

“You idiot, thank god you’re okay.” He heard your voice behind him, you had ducked under the police tape and were wrapping your arms around him

“You’re going to get blood on you.”

“Your jumper.” People were beginning to see someone hugging Robin. He turned to look at you while moving your face away from the news teams. This was not the day for you to become number one on every Gotham’s Hitlist. He was happy to see you safe, and his arms were tingling. You’d come to find him. You’d come under police tape to see him and make sure he was okay., possibly risking your life. “Are you okay?” you whispered into his ear.

“I need peace.” He didn’t know how else to phrase it. He was bad with words and didn’t want to outright say he wanted to kiss you, that just seemed blunt and repetitive now. Peace was an accurate description though. You cleared his head and brought him closure. You made the pain end. “Please.”

“You don’t need to beg,” you laughed, kissing him, perfectly understanding what he meant. This kiss was long and passionate and had a huge audience considering all the press and police surrounding the building. Both of your minds were focused though, you didn’t give a second thought to anybody but each other. Since the first kiss, you had peace now, and peace then, as long as you were both together.