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probably-writing-x · 8 months ago

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All The Firsts (Part 2)

Summary: So, could you write something about the reader being in her first relationship with spider (hbh) and her being worried about how she’s new at this?

Warnings: Mentions of sex / sexual acts, cursing, hints at anxiety / overthinking, Missy being a villain (I’m so sorry it just fits the story okay?)

Word Count: 5.8k

Author’s Note: Thank you for the love on part one!! Part three is already in the works if y’all want it??

You’d spent the whole weekend with Spencer after that. You cooked dinner together on Saturday night and bickered over when the pasta was done cooking. You watched his favourite movie and then made him watch yours. And on Sunday, you went to watch the sunrise over the water and then spent the rest of the day cuddled in bed. Spencer kissed you at every opportunity, like he was reminding you more and more that this was real. You still got nervous at the contact, still weren’t exactly sure if you were doing it right or if it felt as good for him as it did for you. But he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

“I should really go back to mine,” You mumble, laying between his legs with your back pressed against his chest as he played video games.

He was propped up against the headboard, pausing the game when you speak.

“A few more hours won’t hurt,” He leans down to kiss your cheek.

“Yes, it will,” You laugh, “I’ve still not done my homework for tomorrow, and I need to be home at least some point this weekend.”

He grumbles and tightens his grip around you, “Homework can wait.”

You hum, tilting your head to peck his lips quickly, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He groans, kissing you once more before releasing his grip on you.

Spencer gets up and walks you down the stairs, even standing at the door to watch you walk the few steps over to your house. He only closes the door when he sees you go inside.

If you thought about it briefly, this entire weekend felt like a fever dream. How had you gone from Friday to now? On Friday, you’d been preparing for your first date, with a guy you’d known for a week, your first experience of anything like this. And in the past two days, Spencer had shown you so much of what you felt like you’d been missing. Kissing you, holding you, making you feel like you were worthy of every piece of affection. Your heart seemed to backflip at the thought, the idea that this was reality.

“There she is!” It’s your Mum who speaks up as soon as you enter the house, “I’d have started to get worried if you were any further away than next door.”

You laugh, “Yeah, sorry, I thought I should come home at least once before the weekend’s over.”

“Oh don’t be silly, you’re young, you’re supposed to be out all the time,” She chuckles, “This is what we’re meant to be putting up with as parents.”

You’d always been close with your parents, mainly because they never had much to worry about. You got good grades, you were always home on time, you helped out around the house, you were never one to be out late partying or off somewhere they didn’t know. You were too much of a golden girl to be a worry for them. If anything, your Mum was a little relieved to see you doing something at least slightly out of character.

“So, Spencer?” She raises her brows at you, “Little Spec that you used to have sleepovers with, Spec that drives you to school every day. When did this happen?”

“Um,” You clear your throat, scratching at the back of your neck, “I don’t know, it’s new. I actually don’t know wh- I don’t know.”

“Oh I don’t understand you young kids these days,” She shakes her head, “Are you dating are you not dating? I’ll never understand it.”

“I should go and do my work before tomorrow,” You excuse yourself, making your way upstairs to your own room.

The curtains are open and so are Spencer’s across the way. He’s sat back on his bed still playing the same game he’d been playing before you left, fully engrossed in the screen.

Do your work!!

You send the text and set your phone down onto your desk, glancing through the window once more to see him smile down at the words on his screen. He looks up to you through the window then and his lips curl into an even brighter smile. You feel your heart flip once more.

———

The following morning, Spencer is waiting in the car like he always is for you. You hurry down and get into the passenger seat, dropping your bag onto the back seats,

“Good morning, doll,” He smiles when he sees you, leaning over to kiss you quickly, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, ready,” You nod, plugging your phone into the aux.

You’d done this same journey a million times with Spencer. And yet something felt so different about being sat next to him now. He wasn’t just the boy you’d grown up with now, he was your first kiss, your first date, the first time you’d stayed over at a guys house, the first boy you were talking to your Mum about. He was filling in so many firsts.

In that moment, however, you have the realisation that none of those were yet to be firsts for him. He’d had plenty of kisses in his time, had more than enough dates, had a number of girls stay over at his house, his Mum had even met Missy. He’d done all of those things before he’d done them with you. And that was okay. You couldn’t exactly be annoyed at him for experiencing those things before you. What mattered that it was you now. Right? But what if those other girls had been better than you? What if they’d kissed better or been prettier or been more confident or…

“Where’s that head gone?” Spencer speaks over your overthinking, “Because if you’re about to start talking to me about your math homework I’m pulling the car over.”

“No, no, I’m just-“ You half-laugh, looking over to him, “Nothing.”

He smiles, keeping his eyes focused on the road as he moves his hand from the gearstick to instead rest on your thigh, his thumb smoothing over the bare skin below the cut-off of your shorts.

Your skin tingles beneath his touch, seemingly another first for you. But how many girls had sat in this seat? How many girls had he made that same move with? You swallow the lump in your throat and try to ignore it.

———

Spencer parks up in his usual spot and you both get out of the car, him handing you your bag as you do.

“Okay, I’ll see you at the end of the day,” You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” He laughs, reaching for your hand and interlocking your fingers, “Come on, come say hi to the guys, at least stay with us until first period.”

“I-“ You frown, “I never see you much in school.”

He laughs again, turning around to face you, “Got somewhere better to be, (Y/l/n)?”

“I- no,” You smile, following alongside him as he walks you over to the wall where a group of the boys were sat.

You didn’t recognise any of them, apart from Ant. The only other two you’d known were Dusty and Malakai but both of them had left now. Ant is sat with another girl, Harper, and she smiles when she sees you.

“Morning boys,” Spider says, “You all know (Y/n), right?”

“Yeah how’s it going (Y/n)? You’re never with us in the morning,” Ant points out, smiling so you knew he didn’t mean it rudely.

“Yeah Ant’s brain will probably combust if he’s with more than one girl at once, right buddy?” Spencer hits his leg and takes a seat on the wall opposite them.

This spot used to be an old bike park but too many kids got their wheels slashed so Woodsy gave up on the idea of having one. Now, it was just three walls all perpendicular to each other, with the remains of metal railings in the centre. You hop up onto the spot beside Spencer and he leans one of his arms around the back of you - not necessarily around you, just resting there as if he wanted to reassure you.

“How come you weren’t out on Friday Spider?” One of the guys asks him.

“I…” Spider glances at you and then back to the group, “Something came up.”

Harper looks at you across the way and smiles. She must be able to tell you’re nervous. You’re not sure if you should speak or let the others do the talking. Should you be making it more obvious that something was going on with Spencer? Were they all going to question him on it as soon as you left?

“Well, you should’ve been there.”

“Yeah, man, you missed a good party.”

They all go into explaining something that had happened at the party and you try to pick up on names you might recognise. Someone mentions Missy and you feel your chest tighten, a strange reaction, you think.

“Hey (Y/n), I think we have first period together,” Harper mentions, “Maths right? Do you want to walk over?”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” You nod, reaching for your bag.

You hop down from the wall and watch as Harper turns to kiss Ant before she leaves. Oh god. Should you do the same to Spencer. You turn around and look at him and he smiles.

“I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Um, yeah, okay,” You nod, “See you.”

He didn’t make a move to kiss you. But, then again, neither did you. Maybe you should have done. Will his friends think you were weird if you didn’t?

“Sorry, thought you might just want to get away from that boy talk for a while,” Harper leans in to say to you quietly as you’re both walking away, “You and Spencer are a thing then?”

“Oh, um,” You shrug, “Yeah, I guess so, it’s new so I don’t know.”

“You guys have been friends for like ever though right?” She points out, “He mentions you all the time.”

“He does?”

“Oh yeah,” Harper laughs, “Ant was telling me the other week the boys ask for lifts off Spider all the time and he always refuses. They call you his ‘golden girl’. I’m honestly surprised it took him this long to make a move.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, suppressing a smile that you’d save for when you mentioned this to Spider later, “Yeah, I didn’t think anything would ever happen with us. But I’m glad it has.”

You walk through to class with her and go to sit with your friends on the table near the front. They ask you about your weekend and oddly enough you can’t bring yourself to mention anything about Spencer. What would you say? You knew a few of them silently judged him and that entire group for everything. They were so different to you guys. They were loud and outgoing and disruptive. And you guys got your work in on time and spoke about plans for after school or what the latest book you were reading was. They were… just different. And so you liked the idea of keeping the two things separate for a while. At least whilst you were still figuring out what exactly was going on with you and Spencer. You didn’t want to ask for fear of the answer not being what you desired.

———

By the middle of the day, you’re leaving your class for lunch. Your few friends walk out with you and go to turn down the corridor towards your lockers but, as you step out of the room, you’re stopped by someone else.

“Last out of class, I shouldn’t be surprised,” Spencer comments as his hand stops your wrist in motion, “Ready to go to lunch?”

The girls turn around and look at you with a frown, looking between you and him and then down to where his hand still held you.

“Um, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” You smile to them, turning around to Spencer before you can catch sight of their disapproving faces.

“I don’t think you’ve ever introduced me to your friends,” Spencer points out, “Do they know about me?”

“Everyone knows about you,” You laugh, “You’re not exactly known for being incognito around school. In fact, I’m pretty sure you hit one of them with a cake once when you started that food fight after the elections.”

He grimaces, “Yeah, might have to apologise for that one if I want to get in their good books.”

You like the idea of him wanting to impress your friends, the idea that he’d want them to like him. It makes you feel like there is some sort of permanence to this. Some sort of longevity that stretched beyond one perfect weekend.

“Here, you can put your stuff in my locker,” He mentions, taking your books from your arms, “I won’t let you forget it.”

Spencer closes the locker and then continues his walk beside you, his hand brushing yours every so often until his fingers lace with your own. Every little contact from him seemed like a gentle reminder that you really weren’t dreaming this. This was really happening.

You both wait in line to get your food and he places a hand on your back to let you go ahead of him. You still tingle under the touch. He asks you how your days been and tells you he’s thought of another film you need to watch. You ask him if he listened to the song you’d sent him last night and he said he’d already added it to his playlist.

He points out a table over in the corner and the two of you go over, sitting opposite each other.

“So this is technically our first meal out together,” You point out, pushing the rice around your plate, “You’re practically taking me out for dinner.”

“I always thought it would be more romantic than this,” Spider laughs, his leg brushing yours under the table.

“So you’ve thought about it.”

“Well I mean I-“

“There you are!”

Within moments, you’re interrupted by Spider’s friends clambering around the table. Ant sits down next to you and smiles, throwing down a wrapped sandwich and a bag of chips and a can of soda.

“Don’t mind if we join you, do you?” One of the boys sits beside Spider and nudges his arm.

“Um,” Spencer clears his throat, “Course not.”

He looks over to you but you’re already distracted by the chorus of conversation that starts up beside you.

Was this normal? The new normal? If you wanted to see Spencer did you have to spend all this time with his friends too? They seemed okay. But they were talking about a game you didn’t know, and another one of them brought up a school trip that was happening tomorrow. They all seem to speak over each other and yet all manage to understand. You eat your food, not really adding much to the conversation but smiling and nodding so that you at least looked like you were engaged. You wanted to be back with your friends in that moment - they’d be talking to you about a new film that they wanted to see, or a new album that was coming out and you’d agree and have something to actually input into the conversation. You could actually be part of the chorus. But right now you felt like a bystander.

———

Spencer drives you home, of course, and this time he comes round to your house instead of you parting ways at the car.

“I’m back Mum!” You call out as you step inside, tossing your keys into the bowl near the front door.

“Oh hello darling!” She beams when she sees you, “And Spencer! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you were making burgers, I’m just here for the burgers,” He grins, “It’s good to see you.”

“Im sure you get taller every time I see you, and you’re only over the way,” She smiles up at him, “Well you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner, as long as you help me open the pickles. I was going to wait for Dad to get home but now you’re here you can try.”

“Of course,” Spencer smiles, disappearing into the kitchen.

“I knew it would happen eventually,” Your Mum turns to you with a smile on her face, one that reminded you of your own, “I knew it!”

You roll your eyes, “Oh stop it Mum. It’s still new, we’re just… seeing how it goes.”

“Got them!” Spencer steps back out into the hallway, “I left the jar on the counter.”

“Oh thank you darling,” Your Mum smiles, “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”

“Should we…?” Spencer looks at you.

“Yeah let’s go,” You go up the stairs and he follows behind you up into your bedroom.

It was a bedroom of magnolia walls, one of which was covered in displayed vinyl covers, a vinyl player on a table in the corner beside your desk. Your bed was against the same wall as the window and Spencer sits down onto the edge of it as you set your bag down and check your appearance in the mirror above your vanity.

“It feels weird to do the whole ‘meeting the parents thing’ when I already know her,” Spencer mentions, flicking through the pages of the book you’d left on your bed, “Less nerve wracking.”

“Is it normally worse than that?” You ask, “Because that still seemed pretty uncomfortable."

"What do you mean? She loves me!"

"I dont know I just-" You shake your head, "I don't know what to say when people ask me about us. Harper asked about it earlier and I just don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Well, there’s nothing you’re supposed to say,” He shrugs, “It’s up to you.”

“I think it’s up to you too,” You point out, stepping towards him.

When you’re close enough, he reaches his hands out to draw you in between his legs, looking up at you as you stand there, “Just tell them we’re seeing each other. That’s enough to shut them up.”

“Are we? I mean… are we seeing each other?” Your cheeks are heating up again.

Spencer squints at you, “Yeah I think I can see you.”

You hit at his chest, “You know what I mean.”

He hums and moves his hands around to the back of your thighs, guiding you onto his lap, your thighs straddling either side of his, “Yeah, I think we are,” He mumbles close to your lips, planting a kiss there.

You smile against his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck. He holds his hands on your waist, deepening the kiss. You still weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, but you let him take the lead. You just let instinct take over. Spencer moves one hand to your back as if he wants to draw you impossibly closer to him. He smiles against your lips and shifts just enough to lift you up, guiding you down onto the mattress. Your head drops down to the pillow, hair splaying behind you. He’s hovering over you, hand gripping your hip as yours grip his shoulders, him dipping down to kiss you again. There’s contact and friction and the unfamiliar feeling of his weight on top of you. And something in your brain seems to ignite in that moment.

“Spencer,” You whisper, feeling your heartbeat pound against your chest, averting your eyes away from his gaze, “I don’t want to- I don’t-“

He stops in his movements, his hand still on your waist, looking down at you until your eyes meet his, “(Y/n), I didn’t- you know that’s okay, right?”

He shifts his weight until he drops down to the mattress beside you, leaning up onto his elbow so that he doesn’t lose your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything,” He assures you, “I’m not in any rush.”

You look at him for a second and take a deep breath, “But I know you’ve… you know, you’ve done all of that before. Isn’t it weird for you if I don’t want to do any of that yet?”

He shakes his head instantly, “Absolutely not.”

There’s a tightness in your chest and for some reason, the longer he looks at you the more you feel like you’re going to cry under his focus. You can feel your bottom lip threatening to tremble.

“(Y/n) you’ve not done this before. You’re not supposed to know what to do or how to act or what to say - it’s okay to figure all of that out. I just want you to feel like you can tell me when things aren’t what you want, okay?” He holds your hand in his, “And if you ever feel like you can’t tell me, that’s when we’ve got a problem we need to fix.”

You smile and nod at him, not sure of any words that fit the moment, not sure of any words that you could get out without your voice breaking.

“Okay, can I kiss you now?” He smiles at you, leaning in and pausing just inches from your lips.

When you nod, he kisses you softly with a smile on his face. You feel your heart skip the same way it had done after your first kiss.

———

Your Mum was surprisingly relaxed about you and Spencer being together. She didn’t even think twice about saying he should stay the night. Maybe she was just happy to see you happy. Or maybe her old dreams for you were finally becoming a reality and she just wanted to hold onto it. You eat dinner with your parents and then watch a film with them downstairs before Spencer’s eyes start to slowly lose their energy and you tell your parents you should probably go to bed. He used a spare toothbrush and waited for you in the bathroom whilst you got unready, he sat on the toilet and read the ingredients of your skincare - stumbling over the complex spellings. He followed you out and back into your bedroom, closing the door behind him gently.

“Okay, full transparency, I normally sleep naked,” He raises his hands as if he’s surrendering the information.

You laugh, “Well, thanks for telling me.”

“But I can sacrifice that freedom for tonight and at least wear boxers,” He nods, pulling off his t-shirt and hanging it over your desk chair.

He’s toned and his muscles seem even more so defined in the dim light. His shoulders are broad and seem to contort so intensely that it makes the soft features of his face look almost misplaced on him.

“Are you staring at me, (Y/n)?” He grins, stepping towards you.

“Just-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, “Looking.”

“Looking?” He cocks a brow, wrapping his arms around your waist as soon as you’re within reach.

He buries his face into your neck, planting a soft kiss into the crook before tightening his arms and lifting you from the ground. You let out an involuntary squeal and wrap your arms around him as he carries you over to the bed, planting you down on the side closest to the wall before dropping down onto the mattress beside you. His arm is already outstretched, waiting for you to tuck in against his chest. You lay there and feel his heart under your head, swirling patterns with the tip of your finger around the bare skin of his torso.

“So I wanted to ask you something,” You take a breath, “How does this all work now? Like… if we’re… whatever we are… how does it work at school?”

“Do you mean with lunch? I’m sorry they all came over and sat with us, it’s just a force of habit and they probably didn’t think anything of it but-“

“No, it’s okay,” You say softly, looking down at a crease in the sheets on your bed, “I just mean in general - lunch, classes, before school - if we’re… i mean, should i be with you the whole time?”

“Do you not want to be?” He chuckles, “Because if I’m keeping you from-“

You lean up onto your elbow and roll your eyes, “That’s not what I meant!”

He laughs again, brushing your hair back over your shoulder, “There’s no rule book, (Y/n). I want to see you as much as I can but that doesn’t mean you should be worried about having to spend all this time with my friends too.”

“I know but like… Harper’s with you guys,” You shrug, your index finger drawing circles on his chest, “Would they think it’s weird if I’m not with you?”

He leans up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, dropping back down onto the pillow before he says, “They can think whatever they want.”

He tightens his arm around you and pulls you back into him, wrapping both of his arms around your body in a tight embrace.

“We should get some sleep,” You mumble into him, arm draped over his torso.

It was strange to you how quickly you settled into contact with Spencer. You’d never done anything like this. And yet when he held you, when he touched you, it felt like it was just natural. It wasn’t as scary as you thought it would all be. Sure, some parts of it still were. But you weren’t as scared as before.

———

The following morning, Spencer leaves early to go and pack a bag. There was a school trip this week - in these cabins in the woods, surrounding a vast lake. All of your year group were going and more often than not it was an opportunity to hide drink and add to the complex web of gossip that already existed. You were almost packed anyway, putting the last couple of bits in, a book for when you got bored, a notebook and a few pens, an extra outfit just in case.

He texts you to make sure he’s not forgetting anything and then you go downstairs to meet him. He drives with his hand on your leg, singing along to the throwback playlist you’d queued. He pulls into his parking space and the bus is already waiting as students file on. His friends are still hanging around outside, yelling at him to come over when they see him get out of the car.

“I think I’m going to meet my friends on the bus,” You mention as you’re walking over, feeling a little nervousness in your voice, “Is that okay?”

Spencer looks at you and smiles, “Of course it is.”

He glances at his friends momentarily and then leans in to kiss you softly - it was quick but he didn’t rush, squeezing your hand before he heads over towards the boys. One of them swings his arm over Spencer’s shoulders, saying something incoherent before glancing over at you and grinning. You make your way onto the bus and go to sit in the few seats your friends were already occupying. They ask you if the Spencer White had seriously just kissed you outside and then complain at you for not telling them sooner. They weren’t as judgy as you’d expected. More surprised. They want to know how it happened, when it happened, was he a good kisser?

Spencer and his friends all pile into the bus and stumble over each other to get to their seats. They’re loud and take up space and your friends seem to exchange a glance between each other that they’re almost hiding from you. Like they want to complain but figure you’re not the one to complain to.

Spencer sits in the seat behind you and your friend, Ant sitting in one of the seats opposite as the other boys fill in the space. Missy and Sasha walk on, taking the row behind Spencer. You realise this is the first time you’d properly seen her since you and Spencer had got together. You hadn’t thought about it enough, clearly. But when you see her sit down you feel your stomach turn a little. She’d done all of this before. With Spider. Had he done all of the same things with her? Had he taken her to the same spot to swim? Had he fallen asleep watching a film with her? Had he kissed her the same way? She might’ve been better than you were, too. She was more experienced. She knew more of what to do, probably more confident in doing it too.

“So, our boy Spider’s in for a fun trip,” Ant wiggles his brows at his friend, “Should we be expecting a pregnancy by the end of the week?”

“Fuck off Ant,” Spencer returns quickly, and it’s as if you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.

“Come on, I’d be a good uncle!” Ant defends.

You glance over your shoulder and see Spencer laughing at him, a bright smile on his face. He turns over to you and rolls his eyes, his smile not faltering. You feel the heat in your cheeks again.

“Spider with a kid?” Missy laughs outwardly, “He’d give up after a few months, might not even make it to the birth.”

“Yeah I think Spider could be used as an example of why contraception is a good thing,” Sasha adds.

You turn around a little, like you want to tune into the conversation. They thought so little of him.

“I wouldn’t speak so soon, our boy’s married off now,” Ant raises his hands and he looks at you with a smile like he is reminding you he means well.

Harper hits at his arm as she sits down as if hoping it would take back what he just said. She looks at you and shakes her head.

“Married off? To who?” Missy persists.

“(Y/n).”

One of the boys says it but you don’t know which one. You feel your stomach churn again and that strange sort of numbness in your body where you wish you could just disappear into the seat beneath you. You didn’t like being the centre of attention like this. And it seemed to be a new common occurrence now that you were with Spencer.

“(Y/n)?” Missy doesn’t laugh but she might as well do, like it’s the most surprising news she’s heard, “You must be joking.”

Nobody says anything at first. And you feel the urge to get up and pretend this had nothing to do with you. You could just go back to being invisible, to existing away from the conversations of these people. To no longer be a topic of their discussion.

“Why would that be a joke?”

Even when you say the words you’re convinced they haven’t come from you. Surely not. You wouldn’t say anything. You would just sit there and not say anything. But you had done. And now even more eyes seemed to be on you.

You turn around and Missy is looking at you directly. Her arms are folded, her head cocked to the side, her eyebrows raised just slightly as if she’s analysing you.

“You’re smart, right?” She shrugs, “Shouldn’t take you long to figure it out.”

You don’t say anything more, turning back to the front of the bus. Your friends look at you but dont say anything and you feel Spencer move behind you as if he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t. He sinks back into this seat and the boys carry on a conversation like nothing has happened.

———

You’re in assigned rooms for the trip. And it’s just your luck, isn’t it? You, Harper, Amerie and Missy.

“Well, this looks cosy,” Amerie says as the four of you step into the room.

It’s a typical cabin bedroom, walls of wooden slats and a roof just the same. A wooden floor decorated with an aged carpet rug that was fraying at either end. There’s a window on the far side, a single pane that looks like it could be made of plastic. It looks out over to the water, seemingly a redeemable feature of the setting. There are two bunk beds, one either side of the room, either side of the window. The mattresses are thin, the pillows even thinner, blankets folded in a square on the ends of the bed beside a rolled up towel.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Missy grumbles, dropping her bag down onto one of the bed, “This can’t get any worse.”

“Yeah, it can’t,” You mumble, sitting down on the opposite mattress.

Missy looks over at you as she sits down, taking a deep breath.

“Missy, don’t start something,” Harper says quickly, glancing at you with a sympathetic furrow between her brows.

“I just-“ Missy raises her hands as if gesturing that she came in peace, “I want to know what Spider’s told you. I mean, I dated that guy. I know what he’s like. What’s changed that he’s suddenly got to you?”

“Got to me?” You frown, “What do you mean?”

“He spoke about you a lot and when i asked him about it he said you two were just friends or whatever,” She shrugs, “Like, he told you he could never imagine seeing you like that.”

“Missy,” Harper’s voice is more of a warning tone now, like she can see exactly where this is going and what’s to end up ahead of it.

“Im just saying, he used to tell me he felt sorry for you - so is that what this is? This is just him feeling really, really sorry for you?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you can’t figure out the right way to respond. What could you say? What did she want you to say?

Before you can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door. Amerie goes over to open it, mumbling something about it being a relief that something would break the tension.

“Fucking terrible timing Spider,” She winces, stepping aside at the doorway as if opening up the room.

You look over and he’s stood there. His hair is flopping on either side of his forehead, the smile on his face faltering at the sight. You and Missy sat opposite each other, your mouth empty of any words and your eyes brimming just enough with tears that hadn’t fallen. That lump still in your throat making it feel like it was impossible to breathe.

“(Y/n)?” He frowns, glancing between the girls as if he’s hoping at least one of them will give him an answer, “What’s happened?”

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beware-of-pity · 3 months ago

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Sins of the Father(s) I

Masterlist

-Next

Bruce Wayne (Battinson) x Reader

Crossposted on Ao3

Summary:

Bruce and you had known each other for as long as you could remember. His father and yours had been best pals and business patterns before Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha had met their demise in that dark ally when Bruce was just nine. You, on the other hand, were not privy to what he had gone through after your father was mysteriously assassinated while conducting his political campaign as he ran for senator of the state of New Jersey after years as Gotham's mayor. Upon the demise filling both of your lives and that of the people of Gotham, Bruce swore vengeance against all criminals, an oath tempered by a sense of justice for which he trained himself physically and intellectually, all to become Gotham City's guardian and protector. Now, two years into this project of his, which you've been kept in the dark of, you've both lost sight of one another. In hopes of getting closer once more, you invited him for Sunday's lunch. Unbeknown to your doubts, he comes.

Chapter I: The Deal

. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

The air was crispy, and the gravel of the pathway churned under the wheels of his polished, black, vintage sports car. The last days of October had brought nothing but continuous rain and chills of cold air, but to his luck, this Sunday morning was mostly filled with grey clouds littering the sky and a hint of mist in the air. What a better sign that winter would soon be upon Gotham. As he stirred the wheel to direct his car towards the closed gate where beyond laid a mansion too familiar to his liking, all he could think about was why he had accepted your invitation for Sunday’s lunch. Maybe it was because you had practically begged him on the phone or because it wasn’t the first time he had turned you down in a month. Eventually, his guilt over the neglect he was ensuring over your relationship got to him, which prompted him to call you back and accept the invitation. Despite the night of fighting crimes and the darkness lying beyond the shadows the Saturday night before; for the sake of the occasion, he had turned in ‘relatively’ early from his nocturnal schedule to get some sleep before having to drive to Bristol Township, a few miles outside of Gotham City. Still, he would lie if he were not to say that his eyes did sting a bit at the strong light of the day, which he had almost forgotten the feels of as it grazed his skin. Fortunately for him, he always had a pair of sunglasses lying around, even in the car he barely drove.

He cursed your father, at times, for having built your family home so far away, but he knew he never did so in bad faith. It was as if he was still joking with him, like when he was still alive - how they would banter like a father and son would, which they had been for a time. Your father and his had been close friends and business partners when they were both alive. Best pals, they would call each other, so your families had spent a lot of time together. He fondly cherished those memories of his childhood, coming from a time when he remembered what genuine happiness felt like, which had now turned into a ghost of the past. The Sundays spent at the now burned-down Wayne Manor, the lunches, the dinners, the times you two played together, chasing each other around in the gardens until you would fall and scrap your knee and cry bloody murder - but also like how you would not want anyone but him beside you as your mother cleaned your wounds and bandaged those up. How after that you would not let go of his hand, how you would follow him around like a puppy, or a chick following its mother. He supposed it was because you were younger than him and sought out someone your age to help you through the world. But now? He barely saw you, and what he mostly heard from you came from the news, seeing as you had become a relatively known public figure, or your scarce and few phone calls, which he admitted were not few because you didn’t call, but because he barely had the time to answer them. Maybe it was that which had brought him to accept your invitation, and despite how he had been beating himself up for doing so during his ride here, the moment the mansion had come over the horizon and grazed his eyesight, something else too stirred in him.

Longing. Longing for a past that was just that, the past. For a time that would no longer be, one he would never get back because the world had taken it from him. Now the question was….was he willing to let himself back into what he had left behind to become the darkness that fought what lurked in it?

He didn’t have the time to think of an answer to that question, as he pulled the car into its lowest gear, allowing it to stop in front of the gate where a security guard was stationed. When he presses to the window, with a second double-take, seeing him inside, the guard smiles and greets him.

“Welcome, Mr Wayne. They’ve been expecting you” Bruce strains a smile, an unfamiliar sight on his face, as the guard waves him in.

When he parks at the front of the double door of your family home, a valet opens the door for him, who he leaves the keys of his car so he can move it out of the way, before he turns to the door, now open and with a butler he knows all too well, smiling down at him in front of it. “Mr Wayne, how good to see you again” Michal, your mother's butler, had practically raised him to a degree, or so he would think, just as Alfred had done, so the awkward pull he felt made him feel a stir of uneasiness. Could he be normal for a minute? He chastises himself; he doesn’t want people who he had been around all his life to suddenly think he had snubbed up and was too good to be in their presence because of how reserved he had become.

“It’s good to see you too, Michal” The same strained and small smile he gave the guard at the gate is back on his face, this time, less tense than the previous one “Please, please, come in, it’s too cold to be standing around” Michal hushed him inside. Seems like the heater of the house had been turned on, the drastic change of air making him shiver slightly “Let me take your coat” he allowed for it to be pulled from his frame. His dark, rich material suit, which Alfred had forced upon him, made him feel like a stuffed turkey at the Kentucky Derby, but he had allowed it so when Alfred had reprimanded him about keeping appearances, even with people he considered family. As he looked around the familiar environment he had not been in for a long time, he had not noticed the approaching figure beside him. A detective he was, and he could not feel a snooping mother crawling around.

“Oh, Bruce!” Your mother Marcia always had a fondness for him, especially before her son, your brother, was born, and often had coddled him and rinsed him with affection like he had been her own. His mother and yours had shared the same friendship your fathers had; he knew she had been especially heartbroken at the loss of her friend and for her to go through the same thing with her husband, made Bruce deeply feel for her.

“Mrs Estermont” the lines on his often hardened face, softened. The more he stayed here the more he felt himself melting out of his usual cold and unpassed self. His jaw relaxed under the motherly kisses she was bestowing on his stubbled cheeks “Oh, please. Marcia’s fine. No need for formalities, dear” she said. Bruce strained another smile “Marcia then”

Before he could put another word in, your mother was calling for your siblings to come and greet him. “You must see them, they’ve grown so much I’m sure you won’t recognize them,” she said, obviously proud of the two.

Indeed, it was a drastic change to now have a twenty-year-old boy and a nineteen-year-old girl standing in front of him when he mostly remembered them as a seventeen and fifteen-year-old duo. Had time passed so fast? Or maybe it was him losing time…

“Uncle Bruce” your sister’s voice brought him back to the reality now standing in front of him. Elena was the youngest, and now she had grown into a pretty young woman. He remembered her with brown shoulder-length hair, which she now sported Into a black wolf cut, delicately styled and many earrings, too many than he remembered. Your brother was no different; he too had grown his hair, and not only that, as he now stood taller than he had last time, though still not as tall as him.

“You two look good,” he said, his voice lighter than usual “You’ve certainly grown” While your sister gloated at his praise, your brother smiled mischievously “She’s still short” He knew well how this would end if he did not put a stop to it before it was too late. So, before your sister could protest, he said calmly “She will grow, in time” he said “No need to rush, huh?��

Your mother smiled “Bruce is right. No need to rush nature”, she said “Now, off you go and don’t cause any trouble”

He watched as the two scouted off, now just him and your mother again.

“You look pale, and you look thin” she pointed out bluntly but with a hint of underlying concern in her words. He sighed “I’m fine”, then he smiled slightly “Nothing a good lunch cannot cure, am I right?”

Marcia nodded her head, happy with his words “I suppose you’re right. I should be happy you even came. (Y/N) would have killed me had I asked her to ask you another time”

Bruce raised a brow slightly but kept neutral about her words “Had I had the time I would have come” he reassured “I know” she strained a smile “I just worry”

“Of course, you do” reassurance was what your mother needed most now and he wanted to give her as much as he could “And it’s my fault, I should have been around more” he shook his head. He only had himself to blame for the predicament he found himself in. She, in turn, shook her head as well “Nonsense, deary. You’re a grown man now, it’s normal for you to have taken over every responsibility your father once held.”

Bruce wasn’t sure if he would ever tell her that his connection to your family wasn’t the only thing he was neglecting. The stocks of Wayne Enterprises had been plummeting as of late, and he didn’t know how many papers he had to sign in those meetings with his accountants, Alfred forced him to attend, to recover the losses his negligence had been the cause of. And again, once more, there was no one else to blame but himself. He would be lying if he were to say he did not particularly care about keeping the company afloat. He used the funds he got out of it to fund his nightly crusades, making his bat suit, his gadgets, and the construction of his Batcave - all funded by the company his father had built, which he was currently sailing into a slow bankruptcy. He wasn’t sure your mother would take kindly to such revelation when Alfred didn’t, something his butler always reprimanded him for. He only nodded along to your mother’s words, as if in agreement.

“How’s (Y/N)?” He asked. Your mother sighed, a hint of exasperation in it “she’s….as busy as ever” she said “It was as hard to get you to accept your invitation as much as it was to get her out of Gotham to visit me”

Bruce chuckles drily - that sounds like you. “Does she not visit you often?” He asks “less and less these days,” She says, “It’s always an excuse with her. ‘I have a hearing on Tuesday’ or ‘I need to prepare a speech for Friday’”

It was obvious your mother was not pleased with you avoiding coming to visit, even with good reasoning “It’s a wonder I got her here today, and even now, she’s cooped up in her father’s office, working”

That catches him off guard slightly. He looks at her, thrown, to which Marcia catches on quickly “It’s hers now” Bruce didn’t know if he could understand the emotions your mother filled her words with “In his will, he gave it to her” fondness though was surely one of them. He could see her, spacing in her thoughts slightly “I still cannot get myself to go in there” something significant in his voice as it quieted “I know.” There’s a finality in his words, the underlying understanding between the two deeper than they both realised. He could almost see it atop the staircase in Wayne Tower, the double doors of his parents’ room locked in a thick chain coiled crudely through the handles, a padlock sealing whoever stood in front of them off from whatever was beyond. He shakes the memory out of his mind

“Do you mind if I….?” His voice trails at the end, but the unsaid words were louder than those he spoke “If you want”, the warmth in her voice was almost a reassurance to him “Only if you think you…” She, too, it seems, cannot bring herself to finish her sentence, but Bruce understands what she wants to say more than if she had said it. “Bruce?” Her calling to him stops him in his tracks before he can step into the staircase “Please….talk to her” Bruce's expression falls slightly. He had not willed himself to admit so, but he had been slightly excited to see you again, but the mention of your father's office and your mother’s plea of conversation brought a wave of mixed emotions.

A sense of nostalgia for the memories he had shared with your father in that office, but also a pang of sadness at the absence he now felt. “….I will,” he replied, his voice slightly quieter. The wooden stairs creaked under the weight of his steps, though the sounds were muffled by the carpet covering them. He made his way to the office, his thoughts swirling in his head. He remembered the times he had spent in there with your father, discussing business and politics or just chatting over a glass of expensive bourbon that he probably was too young to drink. Your father had taught him a lot of things, preparing him to become the man he could have become in his father’s stead had things gone.. differently. Those memories now seemed distant and bittersweet, marred by grief and pain. As he reached the door, he raised his hand to knock, but before he could do so, he heard the sound of your voice from inside. Your mother had not told him you were with someone.

He paused, listening to the tone of your voice and the words you were saying, trying to decipher what was going on behind the door. "I don't care what you think, you've never taken this seriously" your voice was strained and serious "I will not take the fallout of the consequences of your actions coming to bite back at you” Though he knew it was wrong of him, he pushed towards the door to listen in. "you don't understand, you've got to help me out" he didn't know this other voice "I...I didn't kno-“ "you think i should throw myself at your feet to help you out after you lost me half of my father's assets to my uncle?" you asked, "for the sake of you?" you asked almost incredulous. He could almost sense it, the anger and disappointment in your voice, but also a hint of resignation.

“I didn’t know what I wanted” the other woman’s voice was now quiet and closed in “only what was expected of me” "You think I care?" you asked "You've helped your husband ruin my life, content yourself with that, aunt” His brows picked at the dressing of the woman, the realization of what he was listening in dawning on him . He could hear the deep sigh you let out "I'm part of the City Council now, I cannot just go around and get involved in marital spats" Bruce's ears perked up at the mention of you being part of the City Council. He felt a pang of guilt at missing out on this important development in your life which he had learned from the news on the TV. But it also filled him with pride. He always knew you had the potential to make a real difference in Gotham….like your father.

The room went quiet for a moment before the hushed conversation continued "I'll see what I can do", you said quietly, "but I cannot make any promises and remember, you’ll owe me for this” The tension in the room seemed to lessen, and he could almost feel so even from the outside. After a few moments, the sound of footsteps approached the door. Bruce instinctively let go of the doorknob, walking a few steps back as if he had just arrived, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. The door opened, revealing your aunt, who appeared relieved yet sombre. Mascara ran down he slashes, a clear sign of her previous distress, and her hair had become slightly untamed. The fried end caused by the bleach in her hair was seriously not helping her in making her look better. She caught a glimpse of Bruce, surprised by his presence, but quickly composed herself and gave him a thin smile. "Bruce....how you've grown," she said quietly. He nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes darting briefly to your office before looking back at your aunt. "Ms. Estermont" he greeted her, his voice calm and polite. He couldn't help but wonder what had just transpired between you two. “Bruce?” Your voice called from within, a hint of surprise and perhaps, he wanted to believe, excitement. Your aunt seemed to sober “I’ll go” she said “it was nice seeing you again, Bruce” Bruce gave her a polit nod of acknowledgement, moving aside, watching as she walked away, his thoughts still on the conversation he had overheard. As soon as she was gone, he turned his gaze back towards your office, his heart pounding slightly in his chest.

Sitting down in the same chair your father used to sit in, you cut his very image. The dark leather almost engulfs your frame in it. Bruce took in the sight, of you sitting in the very same chair your father had once occupied, a pang of nostalgia mixed with sorrow filling his heart. You looked so much like him, with the same intense gaze and determination etched on your features. The image of you, so reminiscent of your father, tugged at his heartstrings. He had always been fond of your father, who had been a mentor and a friend to him. Seeing you now, taking up the reigns and sitting in his chair, was a bittersweet reminder of the past.

"Bruce" you smiled "Come in,come in"Bruce hesitantly stepped into the office, his eyes locked on your smile. He tried to push aside the guilt he felt for overhearing your conversation, replaced by the warm feeling he always got when you smiled at him. He will not mention what he had heard, he had decided.

"I'm glad you could make it" you said "i don't think I could go another month without seeing you” His heart skipped a beat at your words. It warmed him to know that you missed him just as much as he had missed you in these past months. "It's good to see you too" he replied, a rare, genuine smile spreading across his face. "two months,huh?" you asked "we saw each other last in August, it's October now” Bruce nodded in agreement, realizing just how much time had passed since the last time he had seen you. "Yeah..." he admitted, his voice softer than usual. "Life just seemed to get busier and busier." It was the excuse he had been telling himself for the past few months, but deep down, he knew he had been avoiding you, trying to hide his alter ego from you. "I'm sure you are, now more than ever,no?"

His heart skipped a bit at your words. What did you know? Have you figured it out? Is that why you had asked him here? Was this all a ploy-

“I mean, I heard about your stocks plummeting, I’m sure you’ve been busier than ever with the company” You finished your sentence and he mentally beat himself up for what thoughts he just had. Even if you had figured it out, why was he suddenly thinking of an escape plan? You were his childhood best friend…the last thing you would do is turn in him to the authorities.

“Yeah…” he fidgeted slightly with his hands, his heart still racing from the spiral he had gone through. You smiled "I'm just glad you accepted my invite," you said "I've missed you, and....I've been worried” Bruce's heart squeezed at your words. He could hear the worry in your voice and could see it in your eyes. He knew he had been distant, and he felt guilty for making you worry. "I've missed you too," he said quietly, taking a few steps closer to your desk. "please, sit" you said, "make yourself at home, it is, after all, no?" With the many times he had spent in this house, his name might as well be on the lease. He settled into the chair, allowing himself to feel at ease in your presence. As he sat there, he realised just how much he had missed being in your company. The soft lighting in your office, the familiar scent of old books mixed with the faint smell of your perfume, the tickling of the old cloak. It all brought back a wave of nostalgic memories.

"you haven't changed anything, I see," he said, his voice as always never above a murmur "I couldn't bring myself to," you said "It feels like, he's still here even after all those years, watching over me as I took in his steps”

Bruce's heart ached at your words. He could hear the hint of sadness and nostalgia in your voice, the pain of your father's absence still fresh in your mind. "He would be proud of you, you know that right?" he said gently, his gaze fixed on you. "I'd like to think so too," you said "but I still have a long way before I feel like I've reached the point where he would tell me that” He leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the edge of your desk. "You're being too hard on yourself," he said, his voice soft but earnest. "From what I've seen, you've already accomplished so much.” The truth in his words was so that you could not dispute them "You're on the City Council now" he added, a note of admiration in his voice. "You're making a real difference in Gotham. Your father would be absolutely proud of you, just like I am.”

"you've heard?" you asked with joy “I entered in September when the session began but I will be sworn in in January, I participate how I can for now, but I’m planning on building a coalition”

“that seems like a plan” he said “"You should feel proud. Not just anyone can be on the City Council. It's impressive, really”

You scoffed “It's certainly a job when you're opposing people like Mitchell and his second-in-command Tomlin,” you said, slumping slightly in the chair, that was almost too big for you ", especially with the upcoming elections. Oh, god, help me so, if he puts forward another motion to discuss to take away from Reál's rising numbers”

Bruce listened intently, noticing the exhaustion in your tone. The mention of upcoming elections and Mitchell's continuous attempts to undermine Reál's progress was concerning. "Don't let him wear you down," he said, his voice firm and supportive. "You're smarter and more capable than he is. You just need to stay focused and strategic.”

"easy for you to say when you don't have to deal with him almost every day" you retorted "god, I hope he loses so I won't have to deal with him”

“That’s one way to see it” he said with a hilt of his mouth “The better way. I need him out of my hair” you pointed

you turned your wrist to look at the time"Lunch is in about an hour" you said "can I offer you anything? Coffe? Wine?” To which he shook his head “I’m fine” “Oh, come on, Bruce. You can ask for anything,” you said “Don’t be shy” He watched as you stood to walk to the cabinet your father kept his ‘indulgences’, as he used to call them. “Alright, fine” he relented “cup of wine, red”

The cup in his hand felt heavy even when it wasn’t filled even halfway, the cristal shone in the light coming through the heavy curtains “Come with me?” he raised a brow at your question and only then did he notice you had reached in a drawer for the pack of cigarettes now in your hands. He hadn't expected you to have cigarettes hidden in your office, especially considering how strongly you had opposed your father's smoking habit in the past. His gaze flickered between the pack and your face, wondering if this was just a one-time thing or if you had developed a habit yourself. Perceptive as ever, you took his silent question as your eyes locked “I always told him those would kill him” you fiddled with the packet “In the end he did die…just not from them”

The reference to your father's passing brings a pang of empathy to his chest. He remembered the countless times you had scolded your father, trying to discourage him from smoking. He could hear the resignation in your voice now, accepting the fact that your father's death hadn't been caused by cigarettes but by something else altogether. “Were those his?” He asked “yes” you paused “Now they’re mine” He knew the consequences of smoking all too well, and the thought of you giving in to that habit both concerned and frustrated him. “….I’ll come with you” he said, his voice betraying a hint of resignation and reluctance as he stood from the chair

“Jesus Christ, is it cold” you said once you were both walking in the back of the house, the gravel shifting as you walked along the path. You two were both covered in your coats and yet it seemed the weather was getting the better of you two. Bruce shivered slightly as the cold air hit him. He wrapped his coat tighter around his body, a contrast to the warm feeling he usually felt with you. "Yeah, it's freezing" he agreed, his breath visible in the cold air. He sipped at his cup, hoping for the wine to warm him slightly.

He watched as you placed the cigarette between your lips, the familiar taste of tobacco filling your mouth, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He knew how much you had fought with your father about his smoking habits, and now here he was, watching you indulge in this killer of a drug. Once lit, you took a long drag, feeling the nicotine fill your lungs. The harshness of the smoke stung your throat, but you welcomed the familiar sensation. Once exhaled, the smoke dispersed into the cold air, creating a cloud around you two. “I didn’t know you smoked” he pointed “You never told me when you called”

“I don’t” you said “This…is a once in-blue moon kind of thing” “It’s still a thing” he pointed out “Please, Bruce, spare me your cloak of self-righteousness” you huffed “Your objectivity over what I do died the day you pulled away from me” your words were biting…..but they were not untrue. He winced slightly, wanting to rebuff but the words died right on the tip of his tongue “I’m sorry” is all he could master “It’s fine” you reassured “We’re not children anymore….we cannot spend every waking moment together. I understand that”

“Still” he protested “I feel like I’ve abandoned you in a way”

You exhaled your previous drag “You can make it up to me”

He raised a brow “How?” Curiosity waned at him, awaiting your response and suggestion

You smiled with an underline of mischievousness “How about lunch?” You asked, “I’m free next Thursday”

Of course, his first response was to run away and tell you no. Could he commit again to something that wasn’t his vigilante work? But you…you weren’t just someone, you were his friend, his constant and comfort, who had been with him through thick and thin. He couldn’t just ditch you as he had in the past year after his activities had picked up after he had befriended Gordon and the signal was put into place. His grip on the glass of his cup tightened slightly. He pondered your offer for a moment, his mind racing to find an excuse. "I appreciate the offer," he said, his voice laced with a hint of hesitation. God, he hated this, he hated that he couldn't be honest with you about everything. He nodded against his best interest “Thursday then”

He only hoped he would not regret this.

A/N: I will make a master list soon, if anyone wants to be tagged in future chapters, please comment so. This is written with in mind The Batman (2022) and The Penguin (2024), so spoilers ahead. The first few chapters take place before the events of the movie.I tried to get Matt Reeves' characterization of him as best as I could. I absolutely love that we got an inexperienced, wet, always on the verge of tears, Bruce. He's so hot.

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