#batmans cape just being used as a changing room is what woke me up from the dream

[catxsnow]

OLD WOUNDS PT. TWO

Summary: Dick’s words broke you more than a bullet ever could, it was time to fix that once and for all. No matter the outcome. 

Warning: angst, some swears

A/N: Part two babyyyyy. Wasn’t planning on this but I’m glad that I did! 

Word count: 3.5k

GIF not mine

Part one

It took weeks for your bullet wound to heal. Weeks of not being able to go out on the streets, weeks of being stuck at home, and weeks with nothing to do except for think about the words that Dick Grayson lashed out to you.

You knew that he was being honest about what he was thinking. Dick never yelled at you unless there was a reason and this one was loud and clear. Dick hated you. He hated you for leaving everyone behind without a second thought. He hated you for abandoning the people that you once called family.

And he was right to do so. You left for your own benefit and didn't think about anyone else while doing so. It was selfish of you, and you regretted it. Of course you did, leaving them left you with no one. You had been alone for years. You didn't want the pain of Jason and Wally's deaths leaning on you, or anyone else that you couldn't save.

Those weeks had left you in a mess. Sleepless nights of wondering how different things would be if you hadn't left. Stressing over whether or not you should ever show your face outside of your apartment again. Most of all, you felt the kind of sadness in your chest that never truly went away.

Dick's words hurt more than the bullet he took out of you.

It was what you needed to hear. You needed to know that you hurt so many people because of your actions. The pain that he cracked against you like a whip stung deep, but the true pain came from knowing that everything was your fault. You took his happiness, and you ruined him for years.

Babs, Kori, they were better than you, they always had been. Morally, skillfully, they always won against you and yet Dick wasn't happy with either of them. He was happy with you and you broke him in return.

By the time that your wound had healed, you needed to get out of your home. You needed the fresh air, the harsh punches against criminals. That was the night that you wouldn't mind if a thug got the upper hand on you.

You had left Gotham the moment you left the Wayne Manor. It wasn't fair of you to stick around after already causing so much pain. Home was only a few cities over, you could never bring yourself to veer too far off.

It felt refreshing to leap from roof top to roof top. The crisp cold air woke you up out of the sluggish state you had been in. This was what you lived for, fighting crime and bringing peace to the people. It was too bad that you could never bring peace with your friends, if they dared to call you that anymore.

That night, you had taken down a few people. An idiotic thief, a pickpocketer, a group of men who were getting a too handsy with an innocent woman. The moment you jumped from the roof you knew that you were way outnumbered. There were too many men at once and you were stuck right in the middle of it all.

It was what you felt like you deserved. More punches than you normally would receive, but not enough that you couldn't take these bastards down. By the time the last one fell to the ground, blood dripped down your cheek and your lips. You spit out a mix of saliva and blood and stormed away from the scene.

The rest of the night was quiet, and quiet was what you were trying to avoid. It wasn't until you passed by your old hideout did you finally stop. It was well abandoned now, you hadn't been there since leaving the team. With a sigh, you headed over to the building. The access code was still the same - Dick's birthday.

Dust covered all the computers but nothing had been changed. You spent a lot of hours in that room. Between you and Dick, it was easy to clock in over thirty hours a week there. You spent a lot of time with him there and being inside only brought back memories that you were trying to diminish, not resurface.

However, you pushed on. You flipped the lights on in the room, looking around at everything that you once had. Dick was right, this was your fault. Everything that happened was because you weren't strong enough to be there.

You fingers trailed over the desks and you walked towards the Zeta Tube Bruce allowed you to have. It made it a hell of a lot easier to get to the mountain or the watchtower rather than going all the way over to Gotham. The machine whirred to life, and with a moments of hesitance, you typed in where you wanted to go.

The likeliness that they kept your name in the roster was slim, and you were sure that it wasn't even going to work. However, when you were beamed out of the room and to the Watchtower, you were more surprised than anything. The robotic voice spent chills down your spine as you arrived.

The Watchtower looked the same as it always had. Cold, empty, never home. Mount Justice had been your home for many years when you finally settled from going from mentor to mentor. The team was the first time that you ever felt like you had a stable life. Leaving it and having to come all the way up there? It never felt right.

You didn't realize you were walking towards the large window that overlooked Earth. A smile made its way to your face as you thought about the amount of times that you and Dick would watch from above. You spent hours with him up there, watching, talking, simply loving him and everything there was to him.

Fuck, did you miss him.

The loss of him hadn't hurt you this badly in so long. Seeing him again destroyed you just as much as him. You hadn't realized how much you missed having him by your side, whether it was fighting crime or in bed. You needed him in your life and it had been years since you had him.

"It's been a long time."

"Bruce," you acknowledged. You hadn't heard him come up behind you but you knew the sound of his voice. "I'm surprised you didn't cut off my access. Not very Batman of you."

"It was Tim that insisted," Bruce finally stood by your side. You could hear the underline in his voice though: Tim, not Dick. Tim always looked up to you when he had the mantle of Robin. He copied your fighting style in many ways and had a similar thought process to yours. You didn't know how he felt after you left.

Tim and Dick were as close as any non-blood related brother could be. During missions, Dick relied on Tim to be the leader of the group, he knew that he could handle things when things got tough. You both did. Tim was just another poor soul that you crushed upon your leaving.

"I take it you healed just fine?" Bruce continued upon your silence. You managed to avoid him, and anyone else in the Manor as you left that night. You weren't surprised that he had still managed to find out about your brief visit.

"Physically, you bet," you nodded. This time, Bruce picked up on your tone - Dick had laid a new one on you. He didn't know what conversation went on between the two of you but Dick had been on edge and snappy ever since you left. "Thank you, for saving me. I owe you one - I owe you lots."

"You could come back," Bruce looked over at you. His lips were in a tight line and his eyes couldn't be seen beneath his cowl. The long black cape draped his shoulders and you couldn't help but wish that you too had a cape to hide within. "We could use you on the team, either team."

"It's been years, Bruce," you sighed. I'm not welcome back, was more like it. You felt traitorous to even show up there, you couldn't consider rejoining the team. When the pain of your friends deaths started to dim, you dared showed your face there again? No, that wouldn't fly with half the members of the team. Dick wouldn't allow it.

You couldn't put him through that. He could barely meet your eyes, how did you ever expect that he would trust you again on a mission? Or trust you to have his or anyone else's back? No, your spot on the team was long gone, you didn't deserve it anymore.

"I'm not the same person that I used to be," you continued. Bruce looked at your bloody, bruised face. Beneath your mask, he could see the outline of fresh purple bruises. A small cut dragged across your cheek and although you tried to wipe the blood from your busted lip, some of it was still smeared around your mouth. In all the years that he knew you, you would never allow someone to get that many face hits - this was on purpose.

It wasn't just the beaten face you referred to. It was the aggression. Your tactics became more violent, less with the law. It was hard to maintain a sense of justice when justice killed your friends. Doing the right thing didn't always get your somewhere in life, it got you killed.

Even your suit had changed. Oliver had designed your original one. It was form fitting, covered any exposed skin and protected your from the harms of your world. Now, you showed off a dangerous amount of skin, not caring what could happen to you.

"Dick has gone through too much in his life, I can't put him through this," you pulled your mask off with a sigh. You eyes that once shone bright at the sight below you were now cold and sharp. Bruce could see the exhaustion on your face and how much being back here was tearing you apart.

"I did a lot of bad things in my life but leaving him was the worst thing I could have done. Doing things right by him isn't me joining the team again, it's me leaving, for good. I'm not coming back Bruce, ever," You fished out the device that he had given you and handed it over to him. He never made a move to grab it. "I can't keep causing pain in other peoples lives just to try and lessen my own pain. Leaving for good might just solve that."

Bruce reached into his belt to pull out a small velvet box. He handed it over to you and with confusion in your eyes, you grabbed it. Inside was a ring, an engagement ring.

"Weeks before Jason died, Dick was going to give this to you," Bruce told you. Tears stung your eyes and your throat tightened up. It had been just over three years that the two of you were dating before Jason died. "He wanted Jason to be one of his groomsmen., Wally to be his best man."

"Why are you telling me this?" You didn't want to hear about how you ruined his plans for his future. You didn't want to know that Dick loved you enough that he wanted to marry you. The reality of how much you hurt him amplified.

"Running from your problems was what caused this in the first place," Bruce didn't accept the ring or the beacon as you tried to hand both back to him. "Dick and I don't always see eye to eye on things, but we both knew that you were good for him."

Bruce said nothing else to you. He glanced down at the items in your hand once more before leaving. The velvet box in your hand seemed to be burning a hole into it. The idea of marrying Dick would once excite you, bring you joy about your future with him because at one point he was your future. Now? Now all you could feeling was the unwelcoming pain of shame.

"Fuck," you muttered. You crouched down, the ring box pressed to your forehead as you tried to decipher your thoughts. Dick was the love of your life all those years ago and you truly fucked that up. No greater mistake could have been made on your behalf. "Fuck."

Why hadn't you just stayed? Why did you have to make the unwise choice of leaving for your own benefit? To pull yourself away from the people that you cared about so that if they ever got hurt you wouldn't have to feel heartbreak? Where did that get you? At home, miserable because you had no one. Miserable because you knew that just as much as you missed your friends, they missed you more.

All this time you thought that you left to avoid the pain, but being back here? That hurt you more than all those years away. The reminder that you once had people that would trust you with their life, that wanted to spent their life with you. Now, you had no one. No one would be willing to take a misfit like you back into their life, not after they had just gotten back to where they were before you left.

Maybe it would have been easier to not have pressed that beacon. Maybe it would have been easier to let those men take you. Whatever pain that they would have inflicted upon you had to have hurt less than what you were feeling now. Emotional pain never went away, physical wounds healed.

You wanted to apologize to Dick. You wanted to tell him how you really felt about these past years but you knew he wouldn't stay long enough to hear you out. Hell, you didn't even have a way of contacting him. The device in your hand suddenly felt heavy. You had one way of getting him to come to you.

"Fuck," you repeated one last time. With the ring weighing you down in the other hand, you pressed the button. Who knows if he would even come but you needed to see him once more. If he truly wanted you out of his life, you would heed to his words - trying to force your way back in wasn't going to be fair to him.

You stood there and waited. The Earth below you was cascaded with darkness as the sun had been on the other side. Darkness of the world seemed to be no less dark than you.

Your heart raced as you heard the animated voice - someone was arriving in the zeta tube. You stood there, still facing the large window that cast into space. Being all the way up here made everything down there feel impossible irrelevant. All the problems that you had within the planet seemed to disappear.

"Why are you here?"

Dick. You turned to face him, unsure of what you wanted to say. There were so many things racing through your head and none of them seemed good enough to even sightly make up for what you did. Nothing you could say would ever make up for it, but you hoped that maybe Bruce was right, maybe there was hope for redemption.

The anger that was on his face fell to one of worry as he saw the state of your face. The bruises that covered your jaw, cheeks, and the blood that had dried up on your skin. No matter how angry he ever was at you, even when you were still here, he was always concerned with your safety first.

"What happened?" He changed his statement. Dick stood at your side, his hand reaching up to look over what was wrong. No matter how tender his touch was, you couldn't help but flinch away. You didn't deserve his comfort. Dick's hand dropped back down to his side.

"Nothing I didn't deserve," you assured. He was in his civilian clothes, but he looked tired. Bags were under his eyes, his shoulders drooped while his hands were in his pockets. "I know you don't want to see me, but I wanted to talk with you."

"I'm here," Dick surmised. That was enough to tell you that though he didn't want to be there, he would listen to what you had to say. However, his gaze went from your face down to your hands, he recognized the small box in your hand. "Where did you get that?"

His voice became harsh. So harsh that you winced and cowered back. Wish shaky hands, you handed him the ring. "Bruce," you answered. "Dick I could apologize to you a thousand times and it would never be enough to make up for what I did, I know that. I could announce to the whole world that I'm a fuck up and that I deserve to be frowned upon and that wouldn't come close to enough.

"Fuck, I know that there is nothing in this world that can make up for my mistakes. What I did, to you, the rest of the team, it was awful of me. I know that. I shouldn't have left but you were right: I am weak. I was too weak to face my fears so I ran. If I would have known better, I should have ran to you instead of away, but I didn't.

"It's too late to change things, to change what I did. I just hope that one day that you won't have to look at me with that same anger in your eyes that you have right now." You played with the small velvet box between your fingers. With a sigh, you handed it back over to him. "You deserve a happy life Dick, and after all of this, the life shouldn't have to include me."

Dick grabbed the ring from you. "I bought this less than a year after we started dating," Dick finally spoke after a long moment of silence. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I knew I wanted to marry you. After being friends for so long, I couldn't picture myself with anyone else. You were always the one."

"I'm sorry I ruined that," you sighed. You looked down at the mask that you held in your hands. It was the one that Dick got you when you first joined the team. Even if your costume changed, you couldn't bare to part with it. Reluctantly, you handed that over to him as well. He smiled a little as he held it.

"I came to say goodbye, Dick," his gaze abruptly shifted from the mask, to your bruised eyes. "I put you through too much in this lifetime, I can't keep doing this to you. I figured after all this time, a proper goodbye would do us good. I understand that you don't want me here anymore, I understand no one does."

"I never said that," Dick cut you off. "I never said I didn't want you here. It wasn't fair of me to blow up at you the other night, I'm sorry for being so reactive but I'm not sorry for what I said. You left us, you ran away, but if you truly want to make things right, then you need to stop running.

"You want to make up for everything that you've done? You work your ass off here, on this team. You lead the kids to make the right choices and not to make the same mistakes that you did. That's how you earn my forgiveness, that's how you make things right with the team, with your friends."

Your head hung low. "If you want me to stay, I'll stay. If you want me to leave, I'll leave. Whatever choice you make, I promise you with my life that I will stick with it."

There was another silence between you. Dick's gaze turned away from you and towards the window. "We spent a lot of hours here, looking down at the world that we give our lives to protect. Couldn't bring myself to spend a lot of time here after you left," He honestly told you. Dick handed your mask back to you. "I'm tired of seeing you walk away."

"Then I won't. Ever again," You grabbed your mask from his hand. The same calloused hands that would cup your face when you were feeling scared, the ones that would grab your own hands when you needed comfort, the ones that fought against so many people to protect you.

"Dick, I-" you cut yourself off with a staggered breath. You wanted to tell him so many things: I love you, I never stopped missing you, I want to be yours again. You couldn't. If Dick ever wanted you back again, it would have to be on his terms, not your own. You didn't even know if he ever wanted that.

It didn't matter though. You would live a lifetime in pain just to make him happy for even a second.

"I'm glad to be back."

tagged: @gotta-get-back-to-johnlock​ thanks for getting me to do a part 2!

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Beyond the Mountains - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, Ra’s al Ghul, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, bits of Tim, Conner, Terry Pairing: jondami Summary: There was a new Batman in town, but it wasn’t Damian. No, Damian returned to the League of Assassins with his grandfather. Jon married him anyway. A/N: A batman beyond ‘verse kind of?? based on the comics! Referenced the two arcs Damian are in in Batman Beyond currently (like, 10-13 and 43 through current) a few times in here, but also changed a few of the canon details. Since the current arc Damian is in in BB is not yet out, I bs’d the end and I’m sorry it sucks. I imagine Jon being the hot/dorky high school teacher so...that’s what he is haha. Also reminder that I am nooooooo good at sex scenes haha. I worked a fuck ton on this, so if you like it, please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon! 

~~

Jon was used to Damian breaking into his house in the middle of the night. He’d done it since they were kids. Jon had started breaking into Damian’s house right back when they began dating. It was a thing between them. Their thing.

But this time. This was different.

The bright light shining through the window woke him up first. It was blinding, and he had no idea what it was. Was it daytime? Did he sleep in? Impossible, his parents would have never let him, despite being nearly twenty-three years old, and a guest.

Next, he caught on to the wind, the sound of something hovering. The light was coming from an airship? Batman? Wonder Woman? One of the Lanterns? Was there an emergency?

But as he sat up, he saw a shape drop onto his windowsill. A familiar one, one that put his heart at ease almost always.

But…it didn’t this time.

Because Damian’s silhouette was wrong. There was no cape, or even pointy-eared mask like there should have been. In fact, he seemed to only be wearing what he always wore under one of those uniforms. Compression leggings and long-sleeved shirt.

“Damian?” Jon asked as he sat up, and Damian dropped to the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. But I’m not staying.” Damian explained quickly as he came into view. His face looked hollow, eyes dark. “I just…I just needed to see you before I left.”

“Left?” Jon kicked his blankets off, stumbling to his feet. Damian wasn’t the type to throw words like ‘left’ around easily. “What do you mean? You’re…you’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Wha…where are you going? What happened?” As an afterthought. “Is your dad okay?”

“He’s fine. In Gotham where he belongs. I…” Damian looked away. “I’m going with my grandfather.”

“No.” Jon stepped forward, grabbed Damian’s biceps. “You are absolutely not going with him, and I don’t care what he said or who he threatened, he cannot make you do anything you don’t want-”

“But I do.” Damian whispered. “I…I want to go. And I’m going of my free will. No one is forcing me.”

“No.” Jon was shaking his head. “No. I don’t believe you. You would never-”

“What my father is doing isn’t working, Jon.” Damian pleaded. “And his scope isn’t wide enough. His vision is today, not the future. But that’s what we need to work towards. That’s what my grandfather envisions.”

Jon was still shaking his head, still squeezing Damian’s arms. “No way-”

“I didn’t come here to debate.” Damian sighed, closing his eyes. Carefully, he wiggled his way out of Jon’s grip. “I just came to say goodbye.”

Before Jon could say anything else, Damian took a soft hold of his face and kissed him. It was heavy, desperate, but gentle, and so clearly apologetic. But even as Jon began to shift his arms to hold on to Damian’s waist, keep him there forever, Damian slipped away and was back to the window.

He looked back only once, then disappeared back into the dark.

~~

To say Jon was furious was an understatement.

It’d been weeks since Damian disappeared. Weeks. And when he first went back to Gotham to tell him what Damian had said to him, Bruce hadn’t been surprised. Said he knew, and that he was looking for Damian himself.

And for a while, he gave Jon updates. Called him every few days with his new leads or any evidence he may have found.

Then he stopped.

And when Jon showed up in Gotham a few weeks after, he saw some kid with Bruce, at Wayne Enterprises. Same dark hair, athletic build and eager face as the rest of them.

“You’re not looking for Damian at all, are you?” Jon snapped as he burst into the office, ignoring all security and secretaries. “You’ve already…moved on, haven’t you?”

“You know that’s not true, Jon.” Bruce countered, weakly standing in front of this new boy.

“Do I? You stopped calling me with your leads.”

“Because none are panning out.” Bruce promised. “I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jon huffed. “…All this time, I defended you to Damian. But here, it turns out he was right all these years. You never gave a shit about him.”

“Jonathan!” Bruce admonished, face filling with his own anger.

“Save it.” Jon waved him off as a security guard grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “I’ll just go find him myself.”

~~

Nanda Parbat.

He’d never heard of it before, not even from Damian. But this lead came from Tim, through Conner, and not Bruce, so Jon believed it. Especially with Tim’s own unfortunate ties to Ra’s al Ghul.

It was freezing here, and Jon was almost starting to doubt Tim’s intel of a secret village, when a barrage of arrows came out of nowhere in the fog. They barely missed him, just as he almost missed the bola swinging straight for his throat.

In the moment of being overwhelmed with weapons, he lost track of where he was going, and found himself bouncing off the sharp edge of a jutting cliff, falling out of the air like a crashing plane.

The landing was surprisingly soft, thanks to the snow that he plopped into. But when he rolled over and opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a circle of masked assassins, each one holding a matching sword to his throat.

“Um…ow.” He murmured, rubbing his head. Slowly he raised his hands. “I, uh…come in peace?”

“You should not have come at all.” A voice called further away. The assassins all backed up a step, and some shifted to allow him to see. An old man had spoken, older than anyone Jon had ever seen.

Damian stood behind him.

“Surely the Detective has told you.” The man – Ra’s, Jon assumed – said. “You are not welcome here, Superma-”

Ra’s trailed off as Jon sat up. As he slowly got to his feet and ignored the danger of death all around him.

“You are not the Superman I am aware of.” Ra’s countered. Damian, still silent behind him, let his eyes grow wide. Jon grinned back at him. “But the rules still apply to you, and you are as unwelcome here as the original Superman is…”

Jon tuned him out as he moved forward. One of the assassins stuck his sword in front of him, and Jon just bent it in half as his walk turned into a run, and he all but barreled towards Damian.

He hit him head on, like a freight train, almost knocked him over, really. But Damian caught him anyway. Wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck as Jon wrapped his around Damian’s waist.

“You’re here.” Damian gasped, shifting his hand to clutch at Jon’s hair. “You’re here, you…you…what are you doing here?!”

“Looking for you, obviously.” Jon smiled against his throat. “I mean…last I checked, you’re still my boyfriend.”

Damian’s fingers twitched against his head.

“Unless that lame ass goodbye you gave me was supposed to also be a breakup.” Jon smirked. “And if that’s the case, I didn’t get the message, and also don’t accept.”

“It doesn’t matter what you are to him.” Ra’s reinserted himself into the conversation. “We don’t allow visitors of any sort here, least of all unannounced ones.”

Jon backed up a little bit, but only enough to turn. He kept Damian in his arms. “I’m not leaving without him.”

“Then I’m afraid you won’t be leaving here alive, Little Superman.”

Damian was instantly between them. “A few nights, Grandfather. Please.” Ra’s narrowed his eyes at him. “He was unaware of the rules, and their strictness. He should not be executed for his ignorance.”

“We don’t make exceptions here, Damian. You know that.”

“I also know I am the heir to your throne, and as future Demon’s Head, can do as I please.” Damian countered. “I’m only asking as a courtesy, out of respect for you. Now, either you let him stay, or I let him carry me away, and decide later if I wish to actually return.”

Ra’s frowned. “Watch yourself, Damian.”

Damian merely raised his chin. It’d look regal, if he wasn’t still half corralled into Jon’s arms.

“…Fine. He may stay.” Ra’s spun away, waving to the nearby assassins to stand down. “This time. Inform him of the rules, and remind him that he won’t get this mercy next time.”

Damian glanced back up at Jon, who gave him his best grin. “…Yes, sir.”

~~

“Who told you about this place?” Damian asked. “Or how to find it?”

“Tim, technically.” Jon hummed from the bed, watching as Damian slowly walked around the room, lighting candles as he went. It gave the space a warm, comforting glow. “Well, I mean, Conner told me. But the info was from Tim.”

Damian nodded. “Guess I have to kill him, then.”

Jon laughed and rolled to his side. He couldn’t stop staring at Damian as he moved. He was graceful, yes, but it was more his clothes. Loose pants under an open, deep green robe.

Even in his pajamas, he looked royal. Like a king.

(Like his king.)

He himself was just in borrowed clothes. Offered the same as what Damian wore, but only took the dark green pants. Robes were never his thing.

“Well unfortunately, I won’t let you do that.” Jon laughed, ducking his eyes only a little when Damian looked back at him. “…He misses you, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Damian said dryly. “He and Father both, right?”

Jon sighed. “…I don’t know what Bruce is doing, but Dick, Tim and them…they never stopped looking for you. In fact, I told them I’d contact them if I found you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Damian hummed.

“Why, want to hide all the terrible al Ghul secrets from them?” Jon smirked. “I mean, doesn’t Tim already know most of them?”

“He does I suppose, but that’s not why.” He finished lighting the last candle and blew out the match between his fingers. He carefully put the smoldering piece in a nearby ashtray and turned fully towards Jon. “I want to spend time with you.” Damian admitted. “Uninterrupted.”

Jon felt his cheeks heat up instantly. He suddenly remembered that he was, gloriously, only half clothed. And that the only extra piece of clothing Damian had, the robe, was light and easily rippable.

“And you know if you contacted them, they’d attempt some kind of rescue mission, and come in guns blazing, etcetera, etcetera.” Damian drawled as he waved his hand around, walked towards the bed, and sat on its edge. “And that would just waste our time together, wouldn’t it?”

Jon smiled and flopped his hand out for Damian to take. Damian did so instantly, leaning down to drape himself across Jon’s chest.

“…You sure it can only be a few days?” Jon whispered as Damian trailed his fingers along his cheekbone. “Sure you really don’t just want to come back with me?”

“Want to, of course. We could get that log cabin in the middle of the forest you’ve always talked about.” Damian lamented, even as Jon dragged their combined fingers to his mouth and kissed them. “But I need to stay.”

“Why?”

“I can do good here.” Damian offered. “I can…learn things. Maybe one day put them to good use, or, heaven forbid, tell them to my father. Work together to save the world, and all that.”

Jon kissed at his fingers again. “And where do I fit in that plan?”

Damian hesitated, then sighed, attempted to pull his hand away and sit up, but Jon didn’t let him. Clung to his fingers, and wrapped his free hand around Damian’s back.

“It’s just a question.” He promised. “Not an accusation.”

“I…suppose I had hoped you’d take my last visit to you as an ending to our relationship.” Damian admitted sheepishly. “Not because I don’t-”

“I know.” Jon smiled, kissed his hand again.

“…I’d hoped you’d forget about me. Move on. Find happiness elsewhere.”

Jon grinned, pulling Damian down farther. “Impossible.”

Damian pursed his lips. “Well, it would have made my plan a lot easier.”

“I’d say sorry if I was.” Jon released their hands to hold the side of Damian’s face. “But we both know I’m not.”

He felt Damian’s smile as he pushed their mouths together. Damian melted against him immediately, hands running up his sides to curl into his chest.

Jon’s heart pounded, and he could feel the fast beat of Damian’s through his jaw. His hand twitched, nails just biting into Damian’s skin.

God, he missed this. Missed him.

“How…many?” He gasped as one of Damian’s hands found their way into his hair. “Days? How many days can I stay?”

Damian hummed. “Three at most.” He answered when parted for a quick inhale. “Four, if I begged, perhaps.”

“You, begging? I’d love to hear it.” Jon laughed as he shifted to begin kissing along Damian’s jaw. Damian pinched at his collarbone. “Any way we can extend my visit indefinitely? Or gain unlimited visiting access without potentially getting murdered?”

Damian hummed again, pulling back to lean thoughtfully on his elbow.

“…There are not many, I don’t believe. At least, not many that would apply to you.” Damian thought out loud. Jon reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Damian’s ear, then ran his hand down to his shoulder, where he began to subtly push Damian’s robe off. “Members of governments and armies we are having dealings with and spouses are all that come time mind.”

Jon’s hand stopped on the curve of his arm. “Spouses?” He blurted. “People are married here?”

“Not many, but a few. Higher generals and some of the scientists, maybe. My bodyguard, Koru. He is. I’ll introduce you to some of their children in the morning, they’ll enjoy you.” Damian shrugged. “At least two of Grandfather’s wives stayed here in their lifetimes.”

But when Damian looked back towards Jon’s face he frowned. Jon was smiling.

“…What?”

“There’s our solution, then.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We get married. I become husband to the next Demon’s Head.” Jon’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Problem solved.”

Damian scoffed, sitting up completely. Jon released him only reluctantly.

“That’s ridiculous.” Damian snapped. “You can’t marry someone just to have unlimited…as Todd would put it, booty calls.”

“One, rude that you believe I think of visiting you as purely earth-shattering sexcapades.” Jon pushed himself up onto his forearms. “Two, also rude that you don’t think I’d want to marry you because, I don’t know, I love you?”

Damian just glared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, we’ve said I love you to each other before. Many times.” Jon countered. “I mean, I know we haven’t said it since, you know, you ghosted everyone for three months, but still.”

“Marriage is a big decision.” Damian countered. “And I’m not letting you make such a spur of the moment decision on my account.”

“Who said it was spur of the moment?” Jon demanded. “I’ve been thinking about this for ages.”

Damian snorted. “You have not.”

“Have so. Ask your sister.” Jon countered. “She was helping me for weeks to figure out what kind of design I wanted for a ring, and had scouted a bunch of jewelry stores in Gotham and Metropolis. We were planning on checking them out the weekend you disappeared.”

Damian just stared at him. But there was less annoyance in his face now, more wonder. His eyes glowed in the dim light from the candles.

“I mean, we never made it to the stores, so I don’t have a ring. But I’ll go fly out to one of the mountains outside and make one out of stone if you want me to.” Jon sat up completely now. “I’ll even get down on one knee if you want that too.”

Damian just stared up at him. His cheeks were rosy, and Jon wanted to kiss him again, but now that he’d started down this path, he had a feeling it would be awkward if he just stopped his weird admittance of adoration to make out some more.

“I always thought we’d have a giant wedding, you and me.” Jon whispered with a dreamy smile. “But…this is an opportunity. This is a good opening. We’re together, we’re alive. And it kills me to think about, but when is our next chance to be both those things together?” He looked down, and took Damian’s hand between both of his own. “I…forgot, until I saw you again, outside. How much I missed you. How lonely I was. How worried. How miserable. How much I…worship the fucking ground you walk on, Damian.”

Damian didn’t say a word.

“Is it a means to an end? Well, if the end is me not getting killed for just stepping foot here, then to some it may look like that. But it’s not.” Jon hummed, stroking his thumb along one of Damian’s knuckles. “It’s just…no time like the present, you know? Potentially getting murdered gives us a good reason to get it done. To not wait, or hesitate.”

Damian stared at their hands.

“And I…I realized. When I saw you again. I don’t want another day without you. I don’t want another day without being yours.” Jon squinted, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. “Even if marriage wasn’t a potential solution, and I mean, you said maybe, you didn’t even say sure thing. But even if it wasn’t, even if Ra’s locked me up for staying too long, or showing up again, that’s fine. I’d be here with you, so I’d be happy anyway.”

“…It’d have to be long distance.” Damian murmured, turning his hand in Jon’s grip. “I can’t leave here. But I refuse to damn you to stay in this place forever too.”

“I know. I have stuff I need to do back home, too. A job and hero stuff. I’m not going to stop helping people or anything like that. But hey, it might work in our favor. I can be your eyes and ears back home. Keep you in the loop in case anything serious happens, and you need to come back, if only for a day or two.” Jon tilted his head. “And now that I know where Nanda Parbat is, I can be here every week. Every night.”

Damian looked up at him, eyes wide and almost disbelieving.

“And it’s weird to say, but you’d be safe here. No one will be able to find you, except me.” Jon smiled. “My very own prince hidden away and guarded by an evil dragon.”

Damian quirked a smile at that. “…We’d have to do it quickly. The wedding I mean. Before your three day time limit is up. After informing Grandfather, of course.” His smile faltered. “You wouldn’t get the big wedding you wanted.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a big wedding. I just said I always imagined that’s what it’d be, with both of us knowing so many people, and, you know, being Superman and Batman’s sons.” He squeezed Damian’s hand. “I’m more interested in the act than the event.”

“Oh, the wedding night?” Damian teased, rolling his eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Stooop.” Jon drawled as he threw his head back with a laugh. “I do not want to marry you so we can have, as you put it, secret mountain village booty calls whenever I can come out here.”

He heard Damian laugh too. Felt Damian squeeze his hand. “…Yes.”

The answer was soft, almost inaudible. Jon lowered his head to look Damian in the eyes, the tears in his threatening to overflow. “What?”

“Yes, I will marry you.” Damian whispered. “It would be my greatest honor.”

Jon felt a tear escape even as he leaned forward and engulfed Damian in his arms. Felt Damian wipe it away as he twisted his head to kiss him. Felt Damian’s own tears drip onto his face as they fell back into the bed together.

~~

In the middle of the night, he reluctantly slipped out of the warmth of Damian’s bed and tiptoed to the door. He slowly slid it open and stuck his head out, glancing around for the one Damian called Koru, the bodyguard.

“Pst!” He hissed when he saw him, just down the hall. Koru narrowed his eyes, but quickly pattered over. “Can you do me a favor?”

Koru frowned. “No.”

“Why no…oh. Right.” Jon whispered. “You can leave your post, I promise I won’t tell. And I promise I’ll protect him in the meantime.” He let his eyes glow red as he pointed at them. “I’ve got heat vision and super strength and all that. He’s in good hands.”

Koru’s eyes had widened slightly. “…What do you want?”

“Go out and find the coolest stones you can find. As many as you want, but at least two.”

“What for?”

“A secret, but I promise it’s not a weapon. And I promise you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Koru hesitated for a moment, then huffed. “Fine. But if any of his blood is spilled, I will have your head.”

“Perfect.” Jon gave him a thumbs up. “Knock twice when you’re back?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Cool.” Jon grinned at him and slid the door shut once more.

~~

In all his years, in all his fantasies of getting married to Damian, the one thing he never thought was that he’d be getting married by the one and only Ra’s al Ghul.

He was ordained. In at least six different religions, and all countries but Norway. Who knew?

Ra’s wasn’t thrilled when Damian barged into his quarters the next morning, Jon in tow, to inform him of their intentions. If anything, he seemed most annoyed at the fact that Damian had upturned his plans for the day, and entered the room without knocking or any of the formalities he was supposed to perform.

He didn’t seem surprised, though.

“His mother fell in love with the Batman, and he fell in love with the future Superman.” Ra’s sighed in answer to Jon’s question as servants suddenly swarmed the room, dragging Damian away for wedding preparations. “It follows a pattern. Why should I be surprised?” Another group of women came into the room and began pushing him out of it as well. “Your ceremony is at dusk. Don’t be late.”

He didn’t see Damian the rest of the day, but it’s not like he was given a chance to notice. He was fed and, awkwardly, bathed. He was presented with what appeared to be traditional robes, made of the nicest materials he’d ever seen in his life, and stood on a stool as the clothes were tailored and hemmed by some of the women – “Call us your grannies, little American boy.” The eldest of them said – for the rest of the afternoon.

It was…nice, though. The women were kind, and the assassins sent as guards were respectful. Jon even got a few of them to smile. The children who were following their working mothers chattered his ear off, in between drawing pictures of him and ‘Prince Damian’ as they jokingly called him, and creating colorful crowns and headbands for him from the scraps of fabric scattered around the room.

After a light dinner that, against the instructions and commands of all the adults in the room, Jon ate with the children, there was a quiet knock on the door before it opened to reveal Koru, Damian’s bodyguard.

His clothes were much finer than the battle-ready armour Jon had seen him in since he arrived, and he felt a sense of honor wash through his system at the thought.

“It’s time.” Koru mumbled. Jon stumbled to his feet, and practically ran after him. The women and the children cheered in his wake, sending salutations and well-wishes after him.

Koru led him outside and down a path that seemed to leave the small village completely. Suddenly, the path took a sharp incline into the hills surrounding them, and Jon felt like they were walking into the clouds.

The end of the path opened into a clearing of pure stone, a cliff jutting into emptiness. The sky around them was a deep orange, the sun, giving off rays of golden light through passing clouds, merely a sphere of blood red on the horizon.

It was beautiful.

But Jon didn’t even see it.

Because Damian was there, with Ra’s and Goliath, standing on the edge of the world. His hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the cold earth below him.

He and Ra’s were in similar clothing, both green with golden accents, but Damian’s seemed a little more formal. The golden patterns a little more detailed, a sword fastened on his hip with a sash.

He looked a like a king on his coronation day.

And he was breathtaking.

The snow crunching under their feet alerted the others to their presence, and Damian spun around instantly. His eyes widened at the sight of Jon, and Jon had a feeling he was just as enamored with what he saw as he himself was.

Koru didn’t go with him as he walked forward, but he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice anything, Damian was the only thing that existed. Not the cold, not the assassins, not their superhero fathers.

Nothing.

“Stunning.” Damian breathed as Jon reached him. Jon smiled as he reached for his hands. Damian grabbed at them greedily.

“Those ladies know what they’re doing.” Jon laughed. He looked Damian up and down, then blinked, and looked at himself. “Oh…oh, that’s cute.”

“Hm?”

“The robes.” Jon grinned, nodding down to his dark yellow clothing, with green embroidery. “Mine’s the opposite of yours. You know, minus the sword part.”

“…Indeed.” Damian hummed, seemingly just noticing it himself. He smiled. “Very…cute.”

Ra’s suddenly cleared his throat. “Are you two ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Jon answered instantly.

“Don’t expect anything overly sentimental, Mr. Kent.” Ra’s warned, pulling a notebook from his own jacket. “This will be quick.”

“The quicker the better.” Jon grinned, squeezing Damian’s hands. Damian smiled warmly back. “Honestly, we can say our personal vows later. You can just skip the to ‘I do’ part, Ra’s and it’d be – oh!”

Damian frowned. “What?”

“I forgot.” He turned. “Koru? You still have them?”

“Of course.” Koru scoffed, offended. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something Damian couldn’t see, dropping it into Jon’s outstretched hand. When Jon pulled his hand back, Damian couldn’t help but gape.

Two rings, made out of the black stone of the mountains surrounding the village.

“Told you I’d make you one.” Jon said sheepishly.

“When?”

“Last night, when you were sleeping.” Jon laughed. “You’re a heavy sleeper when you’re happy.”

Damian’s face reddened with embarrassment, but Jon paid it no mind. Instead, he reluctantly let go of Damian’s hand, only to slowly slip the ring on. Ra’s took the hint, and began reciting the vow for Jon to repeat.

Jon didn’t hear a word he said. Repeated on autopilot, waited until he had permission to say the two words he wanted to most.

“I do.”

And Jon could have sworn that Ra’s said the vows slower for Damian, just to torture them both. So instead, he focused on the warmth of Damian’s fingers as he gifted him with the second ring. Laughed as Damian then reeled Jon in, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.

He was already descending as he whispered, “I do.”

The universe restarted when they kissed; the second coming of the Big Bang. It took all Jon had not to clutch at Damian as tight as he could, and float off into the sky like a runaway balloon.

When they parted, Jon leaned their foreheads together. Goliath shrieked happily into the darkening sky.

“I love you.” He murmured, running his thumb along Damian’s cheek. “More than…than…I don’t even know what. Everything.”

Damian chuckled as Ra’s stepped away.

“You’ll both catch your death out here if you stay much longer. And it would be rude of you to die before your own reception.” He called over his shoulder. Jon leaned back, staring after the old man in confusion. Ra’s grinned. “The al Ghul heir just married. Even I am not so cruel as to say that’s not a time for celebration.”

Damian took his hand, tugging him along a few feet behind Ra’s and Koru. Goliath stayed behind them. “Why do you think no one else was up here, Beloved? They were preparing the food for the wedding feast.”

~~

The party was a blur. But the best night of Jon’s life.

There was music, and dancing. He danced with the women who dressed him, and even a few of the assassins who, literally a day before, had swords to his throat. Ra’s even shook his hand at some point in the evening, muttering a tender. “Love him properly, or I’ll rip your throat out with my own hands.”

He danced with Damian, and they both danced with the children. Jon watched in amazement as the kids swarmed Damian, presenting him with tiny gifts like a flower or drawing, or those cloth crowns they’d made him earlier. Smiled as Damian thanked each child individually, let them climb all over him and drag him this way and that.

He thought he understood why they called him their Prince now.

But the best part, the most magical part of the night, was when the party was over, and they went back to Damian’s quarters. When Damian lit all those candles again and then came to the bed and laid in his arms.

There was no sex. Jon probably wouldn’t have wanted it even if it were offered. There was just basking in the presence of each other. Staring at each other in the dim, warm glow of the candles. Holding hands that now bore matching rings. Holding each other.

“Beloved.” Damian whispered. Jon closed his eyes, and hid his face in Damian’s throat. Damian ran his fingers through his hair. “My dear Beloved.”

It was the best night of Jon’s life.

~~

He stayed for another two weeks. He befriended many of those living in the compound, and helped where he could, where he didn’t think his morals would be tested. Painting the kitchen and planting in the greenhouse, not sitting in on treaty negotiations or looking over scientific blueprints like Damian was with Ra’s.

But two weeks still wasn’t long enough, and saying goodbye – that he’d call, that he’d visit whenever he could, that he’d still listen for his heartbeat every second of every day – still ripped his soul out.

And Damian had smiled, but Jon could see the pain behind it anyway.

Because they both knew that along with missing each other, it would be hard. Because Jon couldn’t tell anyone. Didn’t want to tell anyone. Because Damian was his, and he couldn’t let anyone know he knew where he was. Where the League of Assassins was. Wouldn’t put him in that danger. Wouldn’t put those families and children he’d met and come to already love in that danger.

(Knew despite the acceptance of the marriage, if Damian got out of line, Ra’s would threaten Jon. Use Jon against Damian any chance he got.)

So he couldn’t brag about his husband. Couldn’t tell his parents he was married, couldn’t tell Dick, worried out of his mind, where his brother was. Had to lie about the ring on his finger. Yes, it was where you put a wedding band, but if he was married, he would have said something! Obviously! Besides, who would he marry? His last boyfriend disappeared into the wind!

And then most obvious problem. Jon was still a superhero. Damian the heir to one of the largest underground crime organizations in the world. Emergencies arose. Schedules were changed. There was never a promise of when they would see each other next. Never a promise that either of them would be alive tomorrow.

And that just sucked.

~~

It was about a year and a half later, and Jon was sitting at his desk. The final bell had just rung on a Friday afternoon, and his students were gone for a long weekend. He just had to finish marking down the grades of Wednesday’s tests, schedule a parent-teacher conference or two and then put in that maintenance request to Phyllis, then he could go enjoy the long weekend himself.

A three-day weekend in the mountains sounded great right about now.

So he was a little embarrassed when the gentle knock on his doorframe made him jump. But the embarrassment was quickly replaced by surprise.

“Dick?” He asked incredulously.

Dick Grayson, newly minted mayor of Bludhaven, stood there, a smirk almost hidden by the beard around it. Jon still couldn’t get used to that facial hair, no matter how long he’d had it.

“Howdy, Jon.”

“W-what are you doing here?” Jon scrambled to his feet. “Everything okay?”

“Fine, fine.” Dick waved off, leaning against one of the desks. “It’d just…been a while.”

“I suppose…” Jon trailed off suspiciously. “But I’ve known your family long enough to know that no one just stops by without reason.”

Dick laughed. “You always did spend way too much time with Damian. Sounds like something he’d say.” That smirk widened. “How is he, by the way?”

Jon’s heart sputtered, but he kept his face the same. “How would I know? I haven’t seen him since he disappeared, just like you. What’s it been, two years now?”

“Well, I mean. I just figured you’d seen him since then.” Dick shrugged nonchalantly. “With you being his husband, and all.”

Jon opened his mouth to respond, to give the same lies as always, when Dick suddenly reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, and skimmed it before showing it to Jon.

A marriage certificate.

Jon knew there was one. Knew Ra’s and his League was able to pull strings and get one expedited for their cliff side ceremony. He’d signed it, Damian signed it, Ra’s and Koru signed it. Then it was discreetly put into the United States’ system. No fanfare, no newspaper or tabloid announcements, no one knowing it was even there to look for either.

Jon closed his mouth and gulped. “…How did you find that?”

“Being a mayor gives you some privileges, I’ve found.” Dick hummed, even as Jon came around his desk and took the paper from his hand. “And I found myself missing my brother the other day, so I looked him up. Thought I might find some more recent activity or sightings. And here this was, right on the first page.”

They stood in silence. Jon staring at the paper and Dick staring at him.

“Dick, I-”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dick asked instantly, the hint of pain in his voice. “Why did you lie about that ring on your finger? Hell, why didn’t you tell us at the very least where he was?”

“Because Bruce stopped looking for him.” Jon said coldly. “And don’t defend him, Dick. You know he did. He stopped looking when that McGinnis kid showed up. And I don’t blame the kid, it’s not his fault, it’s just how Bruce is.” A deep inhale. “And then you know how Bruce is with Ra’s. He already had a feeling Ra’s took Damian, or Damian went with him, or whatever, so even if he found Damian, you know he would have gone in pissed off and wouldn’t have listened. Would have jumped to conclusions. Would have potentially hurt him.”

“…Okay, I’ll agree to that potential.” Dick admitted. “But, Jon, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because nobody could know, Dick. Nobody.” Jon said. “My parents don’t even know.”

“Famed investigative journalist Lois Lane doesn’t know?” Dick asked incredulously. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well maybe she does, I don’t know. But she took my word and hasn’t pushed the issue.” Jon shrugged. “If she and Dad are playing purposefully ignorant, that’s fine. That means Damian’s safe.”

“He’s not safe with Ra’s, Jon. I know you know that.” Dick countered.

“I do. And so does Damian. But he’s biding his time.” Jon explained. “He’s working from the inside. He wants to save the planet like Ra’s does, but he’s trying to manipulate the organization from within, make their methods more like Batman’s. Kinder.”

Dick shook his head. “He can’t do it by himself. He’s crazy if he thinks he can.”

“Well.” Jon smiled. A sad, lovesick smile. “Then he’s crazy.”

Dick frowned, ran a hand through his hair. “…I have to see him, Jon.”

“You can’t.” Jon stepped forward. “And you can’t tell anyone either.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because even if Bruce doesn’t make a move, word will get back to the League that they’ve been found.” Jon’s eyes widened. “And they’ll know it’ll be through me. They’ll know it’s because I spilled the beans and then Ra’s will punish Damian for it.”

Dick pressed his lips together.

“You know he will.” Jon breathed. “And until…until Damian can change the League or until I can convince him to come back, that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.” A second to think. “And I’d hope it’s not one you would either.”

Dick turned his head away and closed his eyes.

“…On one condition.” Dick said after a moment. “You put me in contact with him.”

“What?”

When Dick looked back, he suddenly seemed like he’d aged ten years. “I just want to talk to my little brother again, Jon.”

Jon pursed his lips, spun that stone ring with his thumb.

Damian was going to kill him. It was a secure line for just the two of them. But…

“…Fine.”

~~

Most of the time, people were sick of snow by mid-February. Jon wasn’t though. And despite the fact that his school district had called for a snow day, he was up at his normal time. Only instead of rushing to the school, he took a leisurely walk to a nearby coffee shop to give himself a little reward for once.

A nice caramel-chocolate latte with extra whipped cream.

He was just exiting the shop, deciding to go to the park to have his treat. Just glancing up into the gently falling snowflakes.

“Beloved?”

Jon spun around so fast, he almost launched his coffee into a nearby window.

“Dames?”

And it was, Damian stood right there, looking far too fashionable than any human had a right to be. A gray pea coat with a blue scarf wrapped neatly around his neck. Black leather gloves, one of which held a bouquet of flowers, dark jeans and black combat boots.

Jon’s heart soared.

“Dames!” He shouted, running at him and jumping into his arms. Damian chuckled, returning the embrace. “What are you doing here?”

“I had meetings in San Francisco yesterday, and decided to stop by on my way home.” Damian smiled as he pulled back, and presented the flowers. “It seemed that it would be…rude not to, given the occasion.”

Jon took the flowers. “Occasion?” He sniffed at the petals. “What’s the occasion?”

Damian blinked, then laughed. “Jon, I think you’ve been working too hard, if you’ve forgotten.”

Jon closed his eyes. “It’s not our anniversary, I know that.”

“You didn’t have a party with your students?” Damian asked. “Or, I suppose that tradition ends after elementary school.”

Jon racked his brain. “The…Super Bowl?”

Damian laughed again. “Valentine’s Day, Beloved.”

“Oh my-” Jon gaped. He glanced into the coffee shop’s window. Paper hearts adorned the walls in decoration. “Oh my god. I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

Damian laughed for a third time, reeling Jon into his arms.

“I can’t believe I forgot Valentine’s Day.” Jon lamented, leaning against Damian’s shoulder. “Divorce me, Damian. I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

“Never.” Damian said warmly. “I know your classes were cancelled today. Have any other plans?”

“Honestly, I was just going to watch cartoons all day.” Jon admitted sheepishly. “But now I just want to spend all day with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

“…How long are you in town?” Jon whispered. “How long can you be in town?”

“Two days.” Damian returned, with a kiss to Jon’s forehead.

“Then we better make it count.” Jon decided, leaning up and capturing Damian’s lips with his own. When he allowed Damian to pull back, he smiled. “Hope you like take out.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because baby, you are not leaving my bed for the next forty-eight hours.”

Once more, Damian laughed as Jon clutched his flowers and coffee to his chest in one hand, grabbed Damian’s hand with the other, and all but dragged him down the street.

~~

The phone rang in the middle of the night.

Jon didn’t jump, phone calls in the middle of the night weren’t new. And he didn’t bother to look at the caller ID. He supposed it didn’t really matter. If they had his number and they were calling now, it was enough.

Still, when he hit answer, he couldn’t help but slur, “Hm?”

“It’s me.” Damian whispered, his voice trembling. He seemed to hesitate, thinking what he was going to say next. “It’s done.”

Jon sat up. “Sweetheart?” He asked. “What’s done? What’s wrong?”

“Ra’s is dead.” Damian said simply. “I…I am now the sole leader of the League of Assassins.”

“Oh, Damian.” Jon cooed. He threw his covers back. “Give me thirty minutes, okay? I just need…I need to grab some pants and I’ll be there.”

And he was. In less than thirty minutes, really. Closer to twenty.

Koru was waiting for him at the compound entrance. He nodded solemnly, then silently led Jon to where he needed to be.

Jon could hear people wailing in the distance. Word must have spread already. And he’d forgotten – Ra’s was a monster. A villain. Evil.

But he meant something to the people here.

Koru led him to a large, ornate door. He opened it, and gestured for Jon to go inside.

The room was dark, but it didn’t matter. Even if he didn’t already see him standing next to that bed, the sound of his heartbeat would have guided him.

He only glanced at the dead body. It was Ra’s alright, and even without the lack of a heartbeat, Jon could tell by the color of his skin he was gone.

But he didn’t care, if he was honest. Never cared about that old man, never cared about what he was doing so long as it was held in check. He only cared about Damian.

Jon stepped up behind him, carefully wrapping his arms around his waist, pulled him back into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Damian shrugged. “We knew it was coming.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Jon tried. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

“There was no love lost between Ra’s and I, so there’s no need.” Damian pushed back. “I just…wasn’t ready.”

Damian pulled away and turned towards him.

“I…I didn’t have enough time to gain the loyalty I needed.” Damian sighed. “Many…many here do not trust me. Or do not believe in me.”

“I believe in you.” Jon offered.

Damian smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, Beloved, your opinion does not matter to the assassins now under my rule.” The smile disappeared. “I’ve already been visited by one of my grandfather’s most loyal scientists. He and I have never agreed, and he’s never trusted me. I sense that will get worse in the coming days.”

Jon frowned. “Do you want me to stay? In case he tries anything?”

“He won’t. He’d be stupid to do anything during these days of mourning.” Damian promised. “And Koru is more than capable. I am more than capable.”

“I’d feel better if I did, though.” Jon shrugged. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Damian’s eyes suddenly twitched over Jon’s shoulder. Jon turned and found an older man passing by the door. He had white hair, and wearing an odd metal suit of armor.

The man glanced in at him and frowned at Jon. Seemed to frown at Damian too. But he didn’t say anything, just continued on his way.

When Jon turned back, Damian was looking at him again, his face warm. “You’re too sweet, Beloved.” He gently took Jon’s hand. “Now come. Since you’re here, you can stay for the funeral at dawn.” A snorted smirk. “Superman attending the funeral of Ra’s al Ghul. Isn’t the world a funny place?”

~~

Jon was woken by a rapid knocking on his apartment door. Damian must have heard it too, as he was suddenly trying to burrow into Jon’s side.

“I’m going to buy your building a doorman.” Damian mumbled as Jon reluctantly rolled away from him. “So then no one can knock on your door. Ever.”

The knocking continued. “I’m coming!” Jon shouted as he yawned. “I’m-”

“Hurry up, bro!” Jon froze.

That was Conner.

“Just give him a minute.” Another voice scolded.

Tim.

“Fuck.” Jon whispered, spinning around. Damian was still curled up in his bed, only half hidden by comforter. Jon quickly ran from the room, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him. He fell into the front door, opening it only enough for his face to show. “…Hey guys.”

Conner grinned. “Mind if we come in? We just had a killer patrol, and we’re starving.”

“Uh…” Jon hesitated. But before he could answer, Tim pushed his door open for him. “…Well, I guess.”

“Conner’s not lying. We’re starving.” Tim mumbled, bee-lining towards the kitchen. “I’ll reimburse you, I promise.”

As he shoved his head into the refrigerator, Conner smiled apologetically, clapping a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “How you been, Jonno? Feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m…good.” As Conner went into the kitchen himself, Jon glanced back to his bedroom door. “Summer vacation and all that.”

“I’d say you’re lucky if you got paid more during the school year.” Conner hummed around a piece of bread Tim handed him. “Doing anything for a second job this summer?”

“Just more patrols as Superman.” Jon shrugged. And more time at the League of Assassins compound in Nanda Parbat he didn’t say. “Some travel, if I feel like it.”

“You meet the new Batman yet?” Tim asked as he poured some orange juice. “Terry. He’s not bad.”

“No. Haven’t had the chance.” Jon mumbled. Hadn’t wanted to was the real answer. Because Damian was Batman to him, he still had that hope. Still believed Damian would return to the title one day, permanently. “So much for World’s Finest, huh?”

“Well, you know Bruce.” Tim shrugged. “He’s kind of hogging him anyway. We only see him at galas.”

“None of you work with him?” Jon asked. He tuned into Damian’s heartbeat for a second, found it still slow, so Damian was still dozing. He could only pray Conner didn’t use his same ability, and hear the same thing.

“Not really. We’re getting old.” Tim laughed. “I’m spending more time at Wayne Enterprises. Dick’s a goddamn mayor. Cass works at Steph’s practice. Jason’s doing…whatever Jason does.”

“But you’re working with Conner.” Jon smirked.

“I called in an old favor. Timmy can’t say no to me.” Conner grinned.

“Please.” Tim snorted into his glass. “I was bored.”

The two began to banter, and Jon found himself glancing back to his room.

God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to tell his brother, and someone like his brother, that Damian was there. That they were married.

That Damian was fucking alive.

And he wanted to bring it up. Wanted to bring Damian up. Ask if Tim remembered his brother, if they’d been looking for him still, if he cared at all. Or at least more than Bruce.

But he couldn’t risk that.

So he smiled and nodded and partook in the conversation, and didn’t mention a thing. Entertained the two for a half an hour or so before, luckily, they excused themselves first before he had to start leaving hints for them to leave.

As soon as he closed the door behind them, he dashed back to his bedroom, only to find Damian still sleeping, only now taking up more of the mattress, arms spread side to side.

Jon blinked then laughed out loud as he walked forward and collapsed back into bed. Damian groaned as Jon twisted their legs together, and he began peppering kisses along Damian’s shoulder.

“…Has my brother left yet?” Damian whispered after a moment. Jon pressed his head against Damian’s.

“Mhm.”

“…Did you tell him anything?”

“If I did, do you think you’d still be in here peacefully sleeping?” Jon smirked. “Tim probably would have come in here just to kill you.”

Damian hummed.

“But alas.” Jon sighed dramatically, curling his arms around Damian’s one. “You’re still my dirty little secret, Mr. Demon’s Head.”

Damian never opened his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

~~

“I think…I should feel insulted.”

Damian’s lips twitched up. “Most people would feel honored, I believe.”

“No, I mean.” Jon rolled towards the edge of the bed, glancing towards the drawing desk his husband sat behind. “You sent me a text that said ‘ASAP.’”

“I did.” Damian murmured, eyes following the tip of his pencil as he moved it across the paper.

“And here I came running because I thought you were in danger. That the mutiny you’re so concerned about finally happened.” Jon continued. He glanced at the candle nearest him, gently hovered his finger through the flame.

“That’s very kind of you, Beloved.” Damian glanced up, frowned. “Please don’t burn your finger.”

“But there was no emergency. You weren’t dying.” Jon sighed, flopping his hand down. He looked up through his lashes. “You just wanted to draw me.”

Damian smiled. “Like I said, most people would probably be honored.”

“I feel like I should be mad.” Jon muttered.

“In my defense, I did say as soon as possible, not right this instant.” Damian mused. “That was your interpretation.”

“Well, how am I supposed to stay mad at you, sitting over there looking like a…a goddamn angel in a wave of holy light?” Jon scoffed. “And you sit there worried about me burning myself? You bump one candle and your desk and drawings are all up in flames in an instant.”

“I doubt you’d let that happen.” Damian chuckled. “Now, despite your wiggling, I’m almost finished.”

“And what’s my payment?” Jon asked, stretching his leg in the air, curving his spine. He felt Damian’s heartbeat stutter a little. “For being your beautiful model?”

“Well, I hope some ice cream your so-called Grannies made when I informed them you were en route is satisfactory.” Damian suggested. “And…I can only hope my undivided attention is a suitable accompaniment.”

“I do love my Grannies and their cooking.” Jon agreed. He turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, gave Damian his most seductive grin. “And I definitely do love you a whole lot more.”

Jon watched the heat rise to Damian’s cheeks. The pencil suddenly began moving across the paper faster.

“I’m almost done.” Damian promised.

~~

When he saw it was Bruce Wayne calling, his stomach dropped.

“Jon.” He’d murmured softly. “I…I found Damian.”

Jon blinked.

“What?” And it wasn’t a faked question. He felt his heart speed up. Because if Bruce, if Batman, found Damian and the League then-

“He’s…alive.” Bruce whispered gratefully. “He’s…leading the League of Assassins, and I’m working on that. But…but I just thought you’d want to know. He’s alive. He’s…okay.”

“I…I didn’t know.” Jon lied. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me, Bruce.”

“You were…you are so important to him.” Bruce sighed. “You deserve to know.”

“Can I…Can I see him?” Jon continued. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“I…don’t think that is a good idea. For now.” Bruce sighed. “But. One day, Jon. I promise.”

When they hung up, Jon immediately took to the skies for the Himalayas.

He found Damian on their wedding cliff. He was staring out into the emptiness again. Back straight, hands clasped at the small of his back.

Goliath stood nearby.

“Damian?”

Damian’s head lifted and he turned. Jon instantly took in the new cuts and bruises.

“Jon?” Damian immediately moved towards him. “What are you-”

“Your dad called.” Jon reached out when Damian got close enough. He ran his thumbs over a blossoming bruise on his cheek. “Told me…the basics.”

Damian smiled sadly.

“We…reconciled, I suppose.” Damian whispered.

“You suppose?” Jon asked gently. “You don’t sound very confident about that.”

“It’s…it’s what we’ve always said. He didn’t come after me. He didn’t care where I’d gone. He replaced me.” Damian breathed. “He…he only came here after McGinnis. When he thought I was going to kill him.”

“Well. You clearly proved him wrong. You didn’t kill anyone.” Jon paused, glanced back at Goliath. “Where’s Koru? He never lets you out of his sight.”

“He is…recuperating.” Damian sighed, trying to turn out of Jon’s hands. Jon didn’t let him. “He attacked my father for a grudge I was unaware of. I had to take him down. He then attempted to set off missiles that I’d decided against. He needs…time to think about some things.” Damian closed his eyes. “…I have no control.”

“You do.” Jon said. “You’re doing…amazing things here, Damian. I know it. Your dad knows it.”

He paused, to run his hand over Damian’s hair.

“I could tell when he called.” Jon offered. “He missed you.”

“He didn’t look for me.” Damian reminded.

“But he’s protecting you now.” Jon said. “He called to tell me you were alive. I played dumb, I asked if he would tell me where you were and he refused.”

“That’s not protection, that’s shame.” Damian countered.

“Damian, change takes time. You know that. I know that. Bruce knows that.” Jon squeezed his cheeks a little. “I don’t think he would have called me to tell me you were alive if he was ashamed.”

Damian shook his head. “I don’t know if I can change the League faster than the coming mutiny.”

“I know you’ll do everything you can.” Jon kissed his forehead. “And I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let them do anything to you. I swear.”

“…Thank you, Beloved.” Damian whispered.

“Mhm.” Jon murmured into his hair. “Now, come on. I’m making an executive decision. You need a break.”

Damian merely wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck as Jon lifted them into air and turned towards Metropolis. Goliath followed.

~~

He should have been more alarmed when he heard the lock jiggle. Should have at least had his super strength ready.

But he’d had the flu all week. Him, having the flu. What the fuck.

“Just go ahead and kill me.” He whined as loud as he could. “Give the stuff in my fridge to my neighbor. I don’t want it to go bad.”

He heard the lock click and the door open, but didn’t even look.

“I might have some pizza you can heat up if you want.” He mumbled, closing his eyes. “If I even tried to eat it, it’s coming right back up.”

He didn’t hear anyone.

“If I puke on you, will you go away?” Jon drawled. “Oh wait, can you give me another blanket first? I’d like to at least be warm when you kill me.”

Suddenly there was a scoff, and blanket fluttering over him.

“Beloved, since when did you become so dramatic?” Jon looked up and felt tears well up in his eyes.

“Damian.” He cried. He reached a shaky hand up and Damian took it in his, kissing his knuckles.

“Hello Jonathan.” Damian smiled. “Still feeling bad?”

“Worse than when I called you.” Jon admitted. “You didn’t have to come all this way just because I’m puking.”

“Through sickness and in health.” Damian reminded. “It’s the same in all languages and religions.”

“Stop.” Jon called as Damian backed away. “Stop being so cute.”

Damian snorted. “You need fluids.”

“They won’t stay down.” Jon sighed. “…Wait, did I give you a key to my apartment?”

“No.” Damian hummed. “I could have just come in through the window, but I figured that might concern you. So I…called Grayson.”

“He has a key to my place?” Jon called. “Since when?”

“It’s Grayson.” Damian reappeared behind the couch, handing Jon a glass. “Probably since forever.”

“I hate your family.” Jon decided. “I barely even see them and I hate them.”

“I know.” Damian offered sympathetically. As Jon took the glass, Damian walked around the couch, and Jon found himself staring.

“What?” Damian asked when he noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re in your evil leader garb.” Jon mumbled, gesturing to Damian’s green robes. “You didn’t change?”

“I came as soon as my meeting was over.” Damian shrugged. “So…I suppose I didn’t think about it.”

“…The Demon’s Head is making house calls.” Jon smiled weakly. “The new Ra’s al Ghul is going to make me soup.”

“Eventually, if you can keep that drink down.” Damian smiled, smoothing Jon’s blankets.

Jon felt his exhausted tears fall as he took a sip.

~~

It was like out of a movie.

He arrived in the middle of the afternoon, and gave a fake name to the hotel concierge. The man typed in the name, stared at the screen, then smiled, and handed Jon a key.

He took the elevator, inserted the key for the private floor, and stood in the corner. Smiled to the couples and families who stepped on and off on various floors. Tapped his finger against the lining of his pocket.

And when the lift opened into the penthouse apartment, Jon almost fainted. Almost swooned right then and there.

Damian sat in the breakfast nook, practically glowing in the early evening sun that shone through the window. He wore nothing but a silken robe, open at the chest, a book open on his crossed knee and a cup of tea in his hand.

“Damian.” Jon whispered carefully. Damian looked up and smiled. Sweetly, welcoming. “You’re going to need to put that tea down.”

He barely gave Damian the second he needed to that before he crossed the room and swept him up in his arms, all but throwing him onto the nearby bed.

Damian grunted as he bounced, but gave a laugh as Jon crawled up his body. “And here I thought you’d want to eat first after your flight.”

Jon just grinned and kissed him as hard as he could.

And that’s where they’d been now, for hours. The sun had set, but Jon had never gotten off of Damian. Not that Damian had let go of Jon himself.

“One more.” Jon whispered into Damian’s neck, remarking a hickey on Damian’s next that was already dulling. “One more round.”

“Oh?” Damian hummed sleepily, fingers locked on and tugging at Jon’s hair, the other arm was tight around Jon’s waist, just above where his ankles hooked together. Jon glanced up at Damian’s amused eyes. “I didn’t realize the last round ended.”

Jon bit at his throat, and thrust his hips at the barb. Damian groaned, his leg twitching involuntarily in pleasure, digging into Jon’s spine. He released Jon’s hair and ran his hand down to his chin, tipping Jon’s face up until he could kiss him properly. Jon smiled as Damian tried to devour him, tried to act like he was the one in control.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Jon shifted his weight upwards, changing the rhythm of his movements, drinking in every sound Damian tried to hide. He carefully took the hand Damian had under his chin and intertwined their fingers, pushing the hand into the mattress. Damian tried to push back, but Jon decided he wanted to cheat, just a little, and used his super strength to keep his hand down.

Damian noticed. Growled quietly, “You asshole.”

Jon looked down at him with half-lidded eyes. “You like it.”

Damian bit his lip, lowered his eyes. Jon felt him dig his nails into his hip. That was as much of a yes as he was going to get.

And that was fine. That was good. Because Jon wasn’t lying, he wanted this to be the last round. He was getting a little bit tired, and he could tell Damian was too.

Besides, sex was cool. Sex with his husband was great. But it wasn’t even his favorite part.

The afterglow. The cuddling. The staring into Damian’s eyes and seeing the universe. The warmth of his skin as he held him in his arms. The gentle sounds of them saying just how much the other means to him.

And they’d been at it for hours. They were slow, they were fast, they were desperate, they were sensual.

So he’d hoped he’d be forgiven for rushing now, ready for it to end. He bucked quickly, bordering on faster than the speed of sound, needed to stay in his head enough not to do that, not hurt Damian beyond pleasure, but he kissed slowly. Carefully.

Adoringly.

When Damian tugged his hand away, Jon let him. Felt his heart pound as Damian wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck, held him as close as their skin would allow.

They came together.

Jon collapsed onto Damian’s chest, shifting only enough to pull out. Damian kept his arms tight around Jon’s shoulders, his hand returning to stroke at Jon’s hair.

“There is a warm bath ready for whenever you’d like it.” Damian whispered. “And room service. We just have to call the front desk.”

“Hm.” Jon smiled. He found himself pressing more kisses to Damian’s throat. “I’m good right here with you.”

Damian laughed. “Jonathan, we’re disgusting.”

“I’m okay with that.” Jon hummed into Damian’s skin.

Damian snorted and rolled them to the side. He held the side of Jon’s face, staring into his soul.

“Happy anniversary, Beloved.”

~~

It was silly, and he was ashamed of himself.

Like, jeez, he was almost thirty, and here he was in the middle of the night, drowning in insomnia because he missed his husband.

Well…there were other things. But it was mostly that.

He rolled to his side, grasping for his cell phone even as guilt coiled in his gut.

The line rang only once. “Hello, Jonathan.”

“Hi.” Jon muttered. “You busy?”

“No.” Damian sounded amused. “It’s only seven in the morning.”

“Oh. Oh yeah.” Jon sighed. Timezones sucked. “Can you…video chat?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Hang on.” Jon said a little too quickly than he meant. He pulled the phone away and tapped a few buttons. An instant later, Damian filled the screen.

He was still in his pajamas and dressing gown, but he sat at his drawing desk, the phone propped up on the top corner. When he realized the connection was made, he smiled. “Hello.”

Jon gave him a tight smile. “Howdy, handsome.”

“Is everything okay?” Damian asked immediately. “You sound…sad.”

“I miss you.” Jon mumbled into his pillow. “It’s been months.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Damian sighed. “I’ve been swamped.”

“It’s not all your fault. I could fly out there any time.” Jon flopped back. “But being Superman…”

“Is far more important.” Damian finished for him. “I understand.”

“Cases haven’t been great lately.” Jon continued. “I haven’t really been saving the day real well.”

“But I know you did your best.” Damian soothed. “…Is there anything I can to make you feel better?”

“Come here?” Jon tried.

Damian laughed. “Anything reasonable?”

Jon glanced around his screen. “Are you drawing right now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Jon smirked. “Draw me a picture.”

“And what would you like a picture of?”

“I don’t know.” Jon sighed. “A puppy.”

“A puppy.” Damian snorted. “Alright.”

He flipped over whatever he was working on and instantly the pencil started flitting around the page.

“I really do miss you, though. More than being bummed about the bad cases.” Jon sighed. “I think I’m just lonely.”

“It happens to the best of us.” Damian agreed. “Would you like me to have Grayson come visit you?”

“Nah, he’s busy.” Jon waved off. “I can call my own friends. Eventually.” He paused, listened to the pencil. “…What do you do when you’re lonely?”

“Call you.” Damian smiled. “And when you don’t or can’t answer, I call Maya while I draw you.”

“You draw me? When I’m not there?”

“Of course. I have an entire folder.” Damian admitted, turning his page. His hair, still unkempt from sleeping, fell into his eyes. “Koru calls me obsessed.”

“You’ve never shown me this folder.” Jon pouted.

“Because I was embarrassed.” Damian admitted. “And sometimes the children take the sketches as coloring pages.” Damian’s eyes widened a little bit, a blush dusting his cheeks. “The…less lewd ones, anyway.”

“Oh my god, if you want me to sext you, just ask.” Jon teased, the tension in his heart releasing a little.

“I prefer the real thing.” Damian chuckled. He made a few more lines across the page, then picked it up, twisting for the camera. “How’s this?”

It was a Dalmatian, with large dark spots and big eyes. Floppy ears and a doggy grin.

“It’s perfect.” Jon smiled. “Send it to me so I can color it?”

Damian snorted. “Sorry, it’s only available for pick-up.”

“Okay. I’ll come get it soon.” Jon yawned. “…Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You need your rest.” Damian hummed.

“…Draw me to sleep?” Jon asked. He felt pathetic, like he was begging.

“Of course.” Damian nodded, reaching for another piece of paper. “Want me to tell you a story as well?”

“Sure.” Jon sighed. “Tell me about your day yesterday.”

“Not that exciting, but if you wish.” Damian nodded.

Jon closed his eyes, and drifted off to the sound of a scratching pencil and Damian’s soft voice.

~~

Jon was in the middle of class, when he got the sense something was wrong. He tripped over the cord of his overhead projector, and his students laughed, but he told them to get an early start on their homework as he scrambled to his desk.

He checked all the news sites, but there didn’t seem to be anything urgent. No mention of his parents or friends. No catastrophe or apocalypse. Everything was fine.

But then he tuned in to Damian’s heartbeat. And everything was not fine.

It was slow and weak. And Jon had heard that sound before.

He’d heard the sound of someone dying before.

He jumped to his feet and out of the classroom, ignoring his students’ calls after him. He ran to the principal, rambled about a personal emergency, then was gone before his boss could ask any questions.

Jon waited until he was off campus before he took to the skies.

But there was a problem, he realized, as he neared Nanda Parbat. He could still hear Damian’s heartbeat, he was still alive, but it…it wasn’t here. The heartbeat was far away. Faint.

He slowed above the League compound, hesitating. He could see men running around, shouting, loading into airships.

He could also see a trail of blood, leading away. He could see where the trail ended, at a mess of claw marks.

Goliath.

There was blood. There were marks from Goliath. Damian was dying.

Where would Goliath take him?

It took him two seconds to realize.

Gotham.

Jon spun around and took off for a second time.

He knew he was on the right path when Damian’s heartbeat got louder. But it didn’t bring any comfort, because it didn’t sound like it was getting any stronger.

As he reached Gotham airspace, he got a glimpse of Goliath, flying behind some black dot, heading towards Wayne Tower. So he didn’t think. Didn’t decide. Let instinct take over and followed them.

He saw the assassins coming in the distance, and he felt his anger grow.

The mutiny must have happened. Damian’s worst fear.

He balled his hand into a fist.

He would not let them hurt him.

He burst into the building, hot on Goliath’s tail. He landed and slid across the tiles, destroying them completely. The black dot, Batman, spun around, stepping in front of Bruce, who had appeared in the room.

“What happened?” Jon bellowed.

“Jon?” Bruce asked. “How did you-”

“What. Happened?” Jon repeated. He glanced at Goliath, Damian limp in his arms. Blood oozed from wounds all across his body. He was unconscious. “…Can you save him?”

Bruce looked over. “…Yes. Goliath, over here. To the recovery tank.”

And Jon never felt so helpless as now, as he watched Terry McGinnis help Goliath lower Damian into water that looked far too much like Lazarus. As little robots swarmed his body.

He stood next to the machine, wishing more than anything that he could stick his hand in the liquid and hold Damian’s.

“…How long?” Bruce suddenly asked. Jon twitched and looked up at him. Batman and the little boy who Jon only just now noticed were tending to Goliath.

“What?”

Bruce pointed to Jon’s hand, to his ring. He pointed to the matching one on Damian’s hand. “How long?”

“…Seven years.” Jon murmured tiredly. “We eloped in Nanda Parbat.”

Bruce closed his eyes. “You never told me.”

“I never told anyone.” He tilted his head in a wince. “…Dick only found out on accident.”

“Dick knew?” Bruce asked. Jon nodded.

“I swore him to secrecy. I’m…kind of surprised he followed through.” Jon admitted. “I…you two were on bad terms. I didn’t want you going in there and potentially starting a war. Potentially hurting each other.”

“We saw each other last year.” Bruce whispered.

“I never stopped him from telling you. That was his choice.” Jon added. “…How did you not notice the ring then? Damian said he never takes it off.”

“He wore gloves the whole time.” Bruce shrugged. “It wasn’t something I was looking for.”

Terry reappeared then, and he and Bruce began to talk about the situation at hand. The city currently being overrun with assassins.

Jon didn’t care.

He had just crossed his arms, was tapping on his forearm, when suddenly, Damian burst from the water in a frenzy. He was screaming and disoriented, and he set his sights on the new Batman.

“Kill.” Damian hissed. Bruce tried to grab for him, but he was too slow in his old age, and missed. But that was fine. That was cool.

Jon was between Damian and Terry in a millisecond.

“I’ll…kill…” Damian breathed, fist still ready. Jon just smiled, and took his face in his hands.

“I’d like to see you try.” Jon mused, leaning down to kiss him. Damian instantly became putty in his hands.

“…You’re with family.” Bruce offered behind them, as Damian’s mind seemed to catch up. His spine straightened, and he reached out to hold Jon’s waist. “You’re safe.”

Jon pulled back, but continued to hold his face as he repeated, “You’re safe.”

“Well. For now.” Terry interjected. “Mind telling us what the hell is going on, so we can maybe save the world?”

Damian sighed, stepping away from Jon. But not too far. Not far enough where Jon couldn’t immediately hook their fingers together. “His name is Zeh-ro. But some call him Mr. Zero…”

~~

It was kind of cool, if Jon thought about it. There was a short ice age. Dick showed up, his daughter too. Damian played well with others. And Zeh-ro was taken down, his plan destroyed.

The Earth saved. Millions upon billions of people were saved.

“The League is yours again.” Jon hummed, watching Matt jump around the roof with Goliath. “…So, I take it you’ll be leaving again soon?”

“…Well, not necessarily.” Damian shrugged. “I mean, Nanda Parbat was turned into a launch pad, and is currently unlivable. The families there have been moved to safer ground, and those remaining loyal to me are all here or protecting the families, so.” He looked at Jon. “You’re stuck with me for the time being.”

“Great.” Jon smiled. He stepped to the side, winding one arm around Damian’s waist. “Better than great, actually.”

“Oh?”

“In fact, the longer you’re here, the more time I’ll have to think up a plan to keep you with me forever.” Jon smirked, bouncing his nose off Damian’s cheek. Damian laughed, and leaned into him. Jon looked across the roof. He could see Dick glancing their way as he spoke with Bruce, a warm grin on the old man’s face himself. “And I don’t think I’m the only one who might be happy with that.”

Damian looked over himself. “…You’re all a bunch of old, sentimental fools.”

“…I’m younger than you.” Jon reminded.

Damian pursed his lips. “Old, sentimental fool.”

Jon laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the city. Goliath responded with a happy roar of his own. Damian smirked as the McGinnis brothers, Graysons and Bruce laughed too.

It was a good day.

“…Welcome home, Damian.” Jon whispered.

Damian sighed, taking hold of the hand Jon had on his hip and leaning into his chest. “Thank you, Beloved.”

[mattzerella-sticks]

Lonely Together (3k, Barry Allen/Bruce Wayne, M)

ao3 link

Barry needs others, yet whether by his enemies or his own actions, he ends up alone. After Iris leaves him, Barry feels as if he drifts through life. Like lightning humming in the air without a rod to ground him.

Until he struck another lonely soul and entered a relationship he never thought possible. Now, months since he and Bruce began sleeping with each other, Barry feels settles. At peace in a way he hasn't felt in a long while. Since he and Iris started petering out.

But it's not love... is it?

           Barry wakes unintentionally, consciousness stirring without say. Currents of electricity that relentlessly hum under his skin strengthen in another’s presence. Especially when it’s familiar. They spark like lightning, striking until he surfaces from sleep’s drowning tides. His eyelids flutter open, though his head remains pillowed by soft down. He watches, shadowed in darkness, as Bruce sneaks around the room. “Hey,” he drawls, voice scratchy from sleep. Grin unfurling lazily while Bruce’s form tensed, “you just swing in?”

           Bruce sets something down on a neighboring dresser, turning. He can’t see fine details, like his self-disparaging frown or furrowed brows interrupted by a wrinkled comma, but Barry imagines them easily. Knows these features intimately. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

           An unnecessary apology. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep here,” Barry replies, then drags his hand across the comforter. Thumb brushing against a loose seam. “So, I guess we’re even.”

           “You didn’t mean to?” Bruce asks, advancing. He sits on the opposite side of his bed, finding Barry’s hand and intertwining their fingers. “What were you doing then?”

           “Waiting for you.”

           He arrived earlier, vibrating past security and locked doors. Shouted into an empty apartment where his voice echoed, unanswered. Half-a-second spent checking each room, Barry knew Bruce wasn’t there. Slowly, Barry retraced his steps. Stood near the front door, wondering. Debated if he should leave for Central City or stay in Gotham. Both options similar in that no matter what he decided, he’d be alone.

           They were different types of loneliness, however. He left Central tonight because what he faced was too suffocating. Barry ran and ran, only it waited there behind every corner. Inescapable on well-tread streets he loved. Growing from cracks on sidewalks like weeds, strong despite how many times crushed. Returning even if ripped out of the soil. And while these desolate sprigs littered his city, it didn’t compare to the jungle in his home. Wild, vast, with hanging vines that slithered across his shoulders. Tickled his neck during particularly quiet moments that made Barry acknowledge how empty it seemed after Iris.

           At least, in Bruce’s apartment, it was different. Like being alone in an elevator that crawled upwards.

           Less insistent. More manageable. Its presence didn’t insist recognition, merely a temporary visitor. Disappearing soon as Bruce arrived back. Barry walked towards Bruce’s bedroom, resolute, shedding his clothes along the way. He grabbed a book he hadn’t finished reading since last he was there. Settled down and opened to a bent age corner.

           He can’t feel the book. Bruce must have removed it. Maybe it’s what woke him.

           Leaning forward, Bruce presses a tiny kiss at the seam of Barry’s lips. Pulls him free of his thoughts. “I’m sorry,” he tells him, “I was out later than I expected, than I wanted to be…”

           “It’s okay,” Barry whispers. His other hand slides into his friend’s hair, playing with it. Brunet curls soft and damp from sweat. “I’m okay.”

           He nods, yet Bruce still looks troubled. Dark gaze piercing, staring deeply into Barry’s own. Drifting closer, their noses brush. Bruce speaks again, breath ghosting over his mouth. Warm and intoxicating. “If you’re able and… in the mood…” he offers, “We can…?” Bruce trails off, not bothering with saying the rest. Barry understands regardless. Because of how he hovers, braced atop him, Barry caged in on either side by Bruce’s arms. Because Bruce asks his own way, through gentle squeezes of their joined hands that he repeats in rapid succession. Because they’ve done this before and grew far beyond the rushed unsurety from their first time.

           Barry kissed him, accidentally. Compelled more by a longing for touch than of Bruce. For a distracting, newer sensation besides the soul-crushing hollowness that roared inside his chest since Iris ended things. Needed some reminder he was alive after another harrowing mission that almost cost the League their lives, again. Again.

           Like a rowdy storm, Barry thundered with unexpressed adrenaline that demanded release. A lightning rod he could cling to, grounded and tethered in the present.

           Bruce was there. Offering Barry coffee from their conference room’s private pot, a gesture of solidarity at being forgotten while everyone else fled for home. He accepted the gifted novelty Superman mug, sipping absentmindedly. “It’s decaf, drowning in cream, smothered in sugar…” Bruce said, “that’s your usual, right?”

           It was. Bruised, bloodied, and exhausted from battling ancient, cosmic entities hellbent on planetary destruction, and Bruce remembered how he liked his coffee.

           The mug shattered as he dropped it, but Barry did not hear more than a tinny pop. His drink splashed their feet, leaving brown, splotchy stains he noticed hours later. Barry jumped Bruce, hauling him close by his cape. Kissed Bruce as his mind played static. In rapid succession, that static disappeared. Rationality descending with vengeance, circling, bombarding Barry with explosive truths.

           He kissed Batman. That’s his friend. He kissed Batman. He’s a man. He kissed Batman. Inside the Hall of Justice, where anyone could find them. He kissed Batman. He kissed Batman. He kissed Bruce.

           Drifting apart, he ignored tingling skin to pry a coherent thought out from the overgrown bramble that was his mind. “Bruce,” Barry choked, grip on Bruce’s cape loose and dangling. Gaze dropping, he focused on his chest. Bat fluttering with every exhale. “I… I don’t, I’m so – “

           Bruce wouldn’t let him explain, roughly capturing Barry’s lips in response. Frenzied, trapping Barry between his body and the table. With a passionate reception like that, Barry felt his worry melt. Became a gentle tide coaxing him deeper. Willingly swept farther than his cares might reach. Bruce’s deft fingers trailing, tickling, at his sides made thinking about the empty bed in his apartment very difficult. When he pulled his cowl back, pinning Barry with an indescribable hunger burning behind his eyes, any disappointment over an understocked fridge waiting at home disappeared. And as Bruce slid one glove off using his teeth, second hand preoccupied teasing Barry’s waistband, Barry’s sole concern was unhitching his friend’s belt.

           “Yeah, like that,” Bruce sighed, “let me make this good for you…” He touched Barry’s already half-hard cock, cupping it. Rhythmically sliding his hand while their hips ground together. Barry softly cursed, pressure mounting. Bruce’s dick throbbed against his and tempted him further, headed for the edge. Plummeting when he twisted his wrist, Bruce sucking an aggressive mark below Barry’s chin that joined a loose collection of already fading bruises.

           Barry came, panting, chasing those last few seconds of bliss until his muscles sagged from fatigue. Kept upright by his friend’s strong hold. Bruce joined him with a strangled curse, head resting on Barry’s shoulder. Panting, they lingered in each other’s embrace. Aware that this meager amount of pleasure had redefined their relationship.

           Hours later, Barry lay awake in bed. Mind restaging their sordid affair, body igniting at the memory of where Bruce grazed him. He fondled pale skin, unblemished now that his accelerated healing factor kicked on. Barry wished it hadn’t. Admitting that, then, even as a whisper from his subconscious, terrified him. Grabbing the pillow on Iris’s untouched side, he held it across his face. Screamed his frustration, and again when he realized her scent finally faded from the fabric.

           Those next few weeks were awkward. During meetings, sitting feet from where he orgasmed and pretending it never happened while evading Bruce’s searching gaze. Boundless excuses, lies, of where he needed to be. Fleeing before Bruce could reach him. Volunteering for any mission, throwing himself into heroics where bad guys needed defeating, lives were saved, and he could act like nothing about his world changed.

           Anything that kept him from asking questions he could not answer truthfully.

           Despite his best efforts – his superhuman speed – Bruce pulled ahead. Running a marathon instead of the sprint Barry hoped it was.

           “We need to talk,” he said, “about… coffee, the other night.” Bruce’s grip tightened on the Javelin’s yoke, glare firm and unwavering out at space. Barry, meanwhile, shrunk in his seat. Conversation he dreaded crashing into him like a meteor.

           Oliver radioed Barry for a mission, about a distress signal League channels recorded. From what they deciphered, the code was obsolete and most likely false. However, sparing resources, he figured a small team could check. Confirm their prior suspicions. Barry agreed, racing over. Only he hadn’t realized his teammate for this mission would be the same man he was avoiding.

           Following debriefing and takeoff, they traveled in uncomfortable silence broken with Bruce’s demand.

           Barry reigned back telltale vibrations, hiding his nerves. “Okay,” he said, “Yeah…” He squeezed his fists and chuckled, “You know how I take my coffee?”

           Bruce allowed him this short reprieve. “It always struck me odd, and… hypocritical, how you liked it. Why choose decaf if you’re adding that much sugar?”

           “It offsets the bitter taste, is all.”

           “Barry…” He wrangled their conversation onto its path once more, tone absent of any levity. “What we did, I…” Bruce paused, testing what he wants to say. Lines around his mouth shifting as he cycles through his thoughts. “I’m not sure how we should proceed.”

           “Neither do I,” Barry shrugged, “Not talking about it was working well for me.”

           “You’ve been acting noticeably strange during missions. I’ve been… unsettled, too. At times.” Barry’s chest twinged, an annoyance he dealt with by crossing his arms and scowling. “If this continues, affecting future missions –“

           “Because it’s always about this mission, isn’t it?”

           Bruce sighed, then Barry felt a gentle brush against his elbow. Leaving the Javelin on autopilot, he let his hands wander. They settled on Barry. One at his elbow, another squeezing Barry’s knee. “Do you…” Bruce strained, forcing his next question past with serious effort. It piqued his interest, wondering what he might say. Obviously difficult, Barry sloped forward as the silence grew. “Do you,” he finally continued, “regret… what happened?”

           He should. They were teammates. Friends who stupidly jerked each other off. Bruce… was the first man he ever let touch him that intimately. Combined, these arguments battered down like a hurricane, reasons how everything about what he and Bruce did – what Barry initiated – was an enormous misunderstanding. A mistake that never should have been. And yet he could not cobble together some form of regret.

           Worse, Barry still yearned for more.

           Barry did not believe he deserved more. The ink from where Iris’s name was tattooed on his heart hadn’t fully disappeared; a relic of what he lost, stinging with each beat. Those scant moments, lost in the throes of passion alongside Bruce, were some of the best he had in months. He made Barry forget his failed relationship like a strong drink or the best drug. How was it possible?

           Determined, Barry turned his neck slightly. Readied a false speech, about being tired and shaken. That their tryst meant nothing and should be forgotten.

           Except he caught Bruce’s stare. His naked gaze, cowl discarded when he wasn’t looking. Layers peeled backwards, exposing a vulnerable side of his friend Barry rarely saw. Shoulders hunched, weighed heavily by an answer Barry hadn’t given. Wisps of disappointment hung in the air like smoke from an ashen cigarette. He cleared his throat, going over what he wanted to say.

           Then tossed the script.

           “I… No,” he confessed, surprising both of them. Bruce’s jaw shifted and a small gasp escaped. “I don’t.” It was his turn. “Do you?”

           His hand slid across his forearm, covering Barry’s hand. “No.”

           “…What do we do now?”

           Humming, thumb petting his upper shin, Bruce offered a suggestion. “It’s been… hard for both of us, hasn’t it? The lives we lead… there’s little chance for that kind of peace. Boats with no safe harbors to rest at, not anymore.” Not since Iris, in a cold whisper, explained how claustrophobic and helpless Barry left her feeling most days. Not since Selina and Bruce came upon a crossroads and chose different paths. “I think that if we want to… engage in activities like – uh, like coffee, then why shouldn’t we? As long as we’re mature about it, and what we do won’t interfere with our duties…”

           Barry weakly snorted, Bruce’s clinical description goading him into it. He laid the idea out logically and he found no flaw in his reasoning. A small crack of doubt shoved its way in, that he misheard. Bruce suggesting, put crudely, a ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangement? But then Barry remembered how eagerly Bruce flew, chasing his lips. That it was his hand edging him into completion. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like the wishful thinking he assumed.

           Especially as Bruce’s hand crept towards his waistband. “What are you -?”

           “Incentive,” Bruce smirked, “Showing you how good this will be. That I can make it.” ‘Let me make this good’ was what he said, while jerking him inside the Hall. “Is that okay?”

           Chuckling, Barry brushed his wavy bangs back. “I thought you didn’t want this to get in the way of our jobs?”

           “Autopilot is an amazing invention. Doing our job at double the speed, leaving more time for… coffee.”

           Barry kissed him, punishing him for such a lame joke by nipping his bottom lip. Soothed it with his tongue while he helped Bruce, shimmying his hips. Pants bunched near his knees, Barry’s cock bobbed between his legs.

           Bruce climbed out of the pilot’s seat, kneeling at his feet. “So,” he growled, breath hot as it hit his twitching cock, “that’s a yes? We’re doing this?”

           “This is dumb. Dangerous. And it’s going to end poorly for the both of us,” Barry muttered, grip twisting in Bruce’s hair after he licked a strip up his cock, “Of course we’re doing it.”

           He was mostly right. During a particularly harried affair, Barry caught sight of his costumed reflection in one of the League’s interrogation rooms’ one-sided mirrors. Watched as he thrust his cock, Bruce’s ass accepting its length. His face, masked, contorted pleasurably. Barry stuttered, taking in the full picture. Flash fucking Batman, like they were a bad porno. If only the camera wasn’t disabled… Scoffing, he relaxed his grip on his friend’s hips. Instead reaching for Bruce’s cowl, ripping it off. His, too, in the next beat. “What?” Bruce asked.

           “This is so stupid,” he huffed, hips rolling slower than before, “What are we even doing?”

           “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

           Barry sighed, “No, like… objectively. Aren’t we too old to be doing this, or… I don’t know, better than it? I doubt this is what most people imagine heroes do in their spare time.”

           “We’re only human, Barry,” Bruce said, grunting as he slammed into his prostate, “We can… can afford a few minutes off the pedestal.”

           “I guess…”

           “Hey,” Bruce twisted, catching his eye in the mirror, “are you having second thoughts?”

           “No.”

           “This is good?”

           He languidly traced Bruce’s spine, cautious of every bump. “The best.” Then, pressing hard at the dip of his ass, he added, “Even if Oliver expected us at training five minutes ago.” Barry orgasmed, Bruce’s laughter booming and stretched hole choking his cock.

           Dumb. Dangerous. Although their situation actually improved since they began, and Barry cannot picture this ever ending.

           Bruce noses at his chin, stubble scratching his neck. “Hey,” he asks, “is this good?”

           “It is,” he responds instinctively, “Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

           “Was it?” Bruce lavishes a spot under his ear, one that electrifies his entire body, “Then I guess I’m not really being good, am I?” He sits on Barry’s cock, sliding his ass along its length. “Are you still with me?”

           “I never left.” Barry kisses him, smiling wide enough he ruins their embrace. His hands roam, active participants now. Crossing the planes of Bruce’s body for purchase. However, in his search, he brushes against cuts and wounds different from those he knows. Passing a deep valley at his ribs, Barry’s thumb dips into a small lake. Bruce’s breath hitches, coughing a low whine. Barry ends their kiss to study his wet thumb. Copper invades his senses, and his eyes adjust enough he sees red. “You’re hurt.”

           “Not badly,” Bruce amends. He rests his forehead against Barry’s. “It’s nothing, I… I took a hit, earlier. Harley didn’t see the blade and – it doesn’t matter –“

           “It matters Bruce,” Barry tells him, “Of course it does.” He taps on Bruce’s shoulder, signaling for a dismount. Bruce listens, wincing as he settles onto his side. “This shouldn’t be good for just me. You deserve it, too.” As he speaks, Bruce’s head lists, lashes fluttering. Barry notes the bags pillowing his eyes were puffier and more purple than ever. “Are you up for this?”

           Bruce sighs, “You came all this way –“

           “Yes, I did. But I didn’t ask about me, Bruce.” He caresses Bruce’s face, unbloodied thumb grazing his lip. “What do you want?”

           “I…” Bruce levels his focus elsewhere, gazing past Barry. Afraid. “I’m tired, and I could really sleep. But I, uh… I’d rather not sleep alone.”

           Neither would he. “Okay.”

           “Okay?”

           “I mean,” he turns, staring at the ceiling, “I was already asleep before you got here. And I bet you were gonna slip in beside me, weren’t you? If I didn’t catch you?”

           “I… I was.” Bruce collapses, head landing atop Barry’s chest. Hairs tickling his chin, arms curling around his waist. Yawning, Bruce snuggles him close. “We can finish this later, in the morning… if that’s okay?”

           Barry threads his fingers through Bruce’s hair, smiling. “We don’t have to. If we can’t, then we can’t.” He repeats this, a melody that helps his friend drift off. Barry’s voice fades, soon silence overpowering the mantra.

           Body leaded but unbidden by shame, Barry continues lazily stroking Bruce. Petting him felt nice. Somehow better than the heavier actions previously done. Reminds him of better nights, when he and Iris lay together in bed. Exchanging tidbits about their day until they fell asleep. Before those cracks in their relationship spread and it shattered.

           Thinking about Iris stings, but not like it used to. Dulled by Bruce’s very presence. A man who lived in shadows bringing a new light into his life.

           He glances down at Bruce while he slumbers, heart sparking wildly. A possibility flashing like lightning inside grey rain clouds. That Barry could one day fall in love with Bruce, if he hasn’t already.

[watchtower-feed]

Death Do We Part (Part 2)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Notes: This doesn’t but third part will have smut. Words: 2,300+

                A crowbar? Then it comes crashing down against your ribs and you hear bones crack. Your friend screams, too afraid to touch you.     

                You’re having trouble breathing now. You think one of your ribs splintered and your lungs have collapsed. It’s too hard to breathe. It feels like no air is coming into your lungs. You hang your head to the side, staring at your arm.      

                Slowly, words start appearing, smeared in crimson blood.

                I’m sorry, Y/N. I lov

     Your parents arrive at the Wayne manor the very next day, worried, asking about Jason. Bruce and Alfred are shocked to find out about Jason’s physical link with you. They apologize over and over again for your death. They tell them it was a skiing accident. Jason went too fast and fell.

     Bruce comforts your parents and offers to pay for everything from the wake to the burial. Your parents’ request that they hold the viewing together, with you and Jason side by side.

     Before the wake, Dick had arranged with the funeral parlor that your bodies are to be viewed in the same casket. They had made a double casket and laid the two of you next to each other. Your mother touches your cheek before she clasps your hand in Jason’s.

     A lot of people attends the wake. The first round of visitors fills the venue with people you don’t know. Celebrities. Politicians. Millionaires and billionaires. Your families has no energy to turn them away. The last few days of the wake, the crowd dwindles, only leaving those that knew you. Your friends from the party visits every day, comforting each other, recalling what they had seen.

     Your parents, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick can hear them. In the end, they too can picture the way you two died. Bruce insists that you and Jason be buried next to each other. “I believe it’s what they would’ve both wanted.”

     Bruce, Alfred, and Lucius carry Jason’s casket while Dick and your father carry yours from the car to a plot of land on Gotham Memorial. Your parents adamantly refused a mausoleum and burying you on Wayne property would hinder them from visiting you as often as they wanted.

     At Gotham Memorial, they carefully lay down your caskets and say their goodbyes. Dick stares at your arm and at Jason’s which had Jason’s last words written on it. The parlor re-wrote it at your mother’s request. She wishes you could have been together, happy and alive. Not 6 feet under Gotham soil.

     Your family and the Wayne family stay until everyone leaves. Bruce pays the gravedigger to leave the shovels and go home. He takes off his blazer, rolls up his sleeves, and starts heaving dirt onto Jason’s casket. Your father follows suit and he cries as he buries you. Dick takes over when he gets tired and your father hugs your crying mother until there are only mounds of dirt on the ground.

✧ ✧ ✧

      Jason rises up from the glowing green waters of the Lazarus pit, gasping and coughing.

      You gasp awake inside a casket, hitting your head on the wooden door.

      Jason is knee-deep in the water but his chest is heaving, greedy for air.

      You’re hyperventilating, screaming, and banging against the roof of the casket.

      Jason’s knuckles and palms are hurting, stinging.

      You’re panicking. You don’t know what’s happening.

      Jason doesn’t know where he is or who he is.

      You cry out Jason’s name and start pinching your arm.

      Jason winces and turns around to find no one around who could have touched him.

      You can hear something hit the casket and you’re screaming for help.

      Jason hears footsteps striding down towards the pit.

      Your eyes are blinded by the moonlight but it’s quickly covered by a black cowl.

      Jason waits for the woman to reach him at the edge of the green water. “Hello, Jason.”

✧ ✧ ✧

      Batman pulls you out of the casket and onto level ground. He’s staring at you and gripping your shoulders, wondering if you’re real.

      You’re crying and blabbering and then you remember, “Jason! What about Jason!”

      Quickly Batman digs at the grave next to yours. You kneel beside him, waiting for the first sighting of the wooden casket. You almost jump down into the hole when Batman pries it open. But you stop and stare wide-eyed at the empty casket.

      Your instincts quickly set in. “Batman, do you have a pen or anything I can write with?”

      He quickly gives you a pen and watches you write on your arm.

      Jason! Can you see this? Are you okay? Please write back!

      Talia has her back turned while she escorts Jason around the fortress. He sees writing appear hastily on his arm and quickly hides it. Talia points to a room and orders Jason to get changed before he’s presented to her father.

      As soon as the doors close, he looks at both of his arms. One was talking to a person named Y/N and the other writing had called to someone named Jason, the same name Talia had called him. He looks around the room until he finds a fountain pen and some ink. He dips his fingers in the ink to write back.

      Who are you? How are you doing this?

      You look at Batman who’s already staring at the new writing on your arm. He frowns. Jason is alive but his memories are lost. Faster than the bat, you write back.

      It’s me. Y/N. Your soulmate. We have a physical link. I feel what your body feels.

      Jason doesn’t believe it even when the magical writing says it so. He decides to try it out and stabs his hand with the fountain pen. New words suddenly appear on his arm.

      Ow! Don’t test it, you dummy!

      Jason’s head whips around the room. He goes to the curtains, looks under the bed, and examines the closet. When he can’t find anyone, he laughs.

      Jason doesn’t reply to you for hours. When the sky starts chasing away the darkness in place of dawn, Batman leads you to the batmobile. You sit in the passenger seat, staring at your arm, waiting.

      “You can’t go home,” Batman says matter-of-factly while he drives.

      “I know,” you say. “I don’t plan on going back until I find Jason.”

      Batman purses his lips, “Y/N, there’s something you need to know.” So Batman tells you everything. You’re shaking your head as he pulls down his cowl. You laugh and tear up when you imagine Jason flying through the skies of Gotham. And then, after a minute of silence, Bruce asks you about your death. Jason’s death.

      You look out the tinted window as your lips quiver. You’re the only one that remembers everything now. Jason is off somewhere thinking he just woke up from a nap while you have to tell Batman about each phantom blow that broke your bones and your souls.

      He listens and doesn’t offer you words of comfort when you cry. He waits for your sniffling to calm down before he tells you about Jason, his mom, and the Joker.

      “He found his mother, but it was a trap all along, set up by the Joker.”

      “His mom… is she?” Bruce shakes his head. “Oh god,” you hide your face in your hands. “She didn’t even know that was her son. Jason just wanted to see her. Ask her why she left him all alone.”

      You arrive at the cave and you’re surprised to be greeted by both Alfred and Dick. They hug you as if you’re family. As if this isn’t the first time you’ve met them. Dick keeps staring at you and your arms. He smiles when he finds that Jason’s last words are still there.

      “I’m sorry. Have I met you before?”

      Both Alfred and Dick frown. What could they say? They know everything about you. Your parents. Your life. Your death. That week of arranging your funeral made them feel as close to you as they were to Jason. You are their only link to him now.

      “Y/N, I need you to tell me more about your link.” 

      The three of you turn to Bruce who’s taking off his cape and standing front and center like a mission briefing is about to begin.

      “Master Bruce,” Alfred starts, “Y/N just came back from the dead. Maybe it’s best to let her rest for a while.”

      “No,” you whisper, “If you think we can use our link to find him then I’m in. I want to start now.”

✧ ✧ ✧

      Jason lies in his new bed for hours, waiting for sleep to come to him. It doesn’t. After his meeting with Ra's Al Ghul, he’s been itching to talk to this person claiming to be his soulmate. He looks at his arm. His previous messages have been rubbed off except for the small writing near his wrist that has his soulmate’s name on it. 

      He rubs it with his fingers and it doesn’t come off. Jason wonders if he’s the one that wrote it. It’s unfinished but it’s clear what the message was going to be. Why didn’t he finish it?

      He grabs the ink again and starts writing on his arm with the fountain pen.

      Y/N. 

      There’s no reply and he’s getting impatient. He uses the pen to stab his palm. He only waits a few seconds for words to appear again.

      Jason! Where did you go? Did something happen? Are you okay?

      He stares at the string of messages and wonders who’s writing to him.

      Also, STOP DOING THAT.

      Jason laughs and he sits up on his bed.

      I want to know who I am. Tell me everything.

      You’re still in the cave. You were lying on the medical table, trying to drown out your senses so you can find him. You don’t feel or hear anything for hours and Dick has already gone home. Alfred’s gone to bed and it’s just you and Bruce in the cave.

      When you jump up because of the sensation on your arm, you catch Bruce’s attention. When he sees you writing, he walks closer. You show him Jason’s request.

      “Ask him where he is.”

      I’d be happy to, Jason. But first, you need to tell me where you are so I can come and get you.

      Bruce talks to you while you wait, “It might not be a good idea to tell him everything if his memories are gone. He might be unstable.”

      You disagree. “What about me? I’m back from the dead and I’m just peachy.”

      “You still have your memories. Jason could be alone or being held hostage right now. Think about how he would react to hearing about what happened two years ago.”

      Two years ago. This is the first time Bruce has told you how long you have been dead. You and Jason would be 18 by now. Graduated from high school and old enough to live together in your own little apartment.

      “Are you okay?” Bruce asks gently. You wipe your tears silently.

      I don’t know. Wouldn’t tell you if I did. They would kill you.

      You stare at Bruce whose brows are creasing together. You write before he can speak.

      Who are they, Jason?

      Jason mulls over the writing on his arm. He’s growing impatient at the lack of information in this conversation. 

      Fact for a fact, Y/N. Nothing in this world is free.

      Jason relaxes his head on his pillow and waits. You take your time this time and Jason is a little annoyed. You’ve been replying quickly, as if without thought, but now you’re not. He already expects your next words to be lies.

      Then. There’s a barrage of words that litter his arm.

      I can’t believe you! You may have lost your memories but you sure do remember how to be a jerk! Your name is Jason Peter Todd, aka asshat. You’re officially 18 years old but still act like you’re 9. You were my neighbor in Gotham City and I’ve seen you naked hundreds of times that I know you have a birthmark on your right hip that’s shaped like a perfect circle!

      Jason instantly blushes and stands up. He quickly takes off his garments and locates the mark on his hip. It’s definitely round. Perfectly round.

     Why have you seen me naked?

     Bruce shifts where he stands and goes back to the computer. “Tell me if you find out anything.”

     You almost forgot he was there. You end up writing back and forth with Jason the whole day, unsuccessfully extracting any information that might help you. But successfully teasing him about the things you did when you were younger.

     You only guess that it’s been more than 10 hours when Alfred comes down and berates Bruce for keeping you up for so long. He confiscates your marker and locks you in a room against your will until you’ve completed at least 12 hours of sleep.

     “That should be enough for someone who’s defied death.”

     When the door closes you rummage the room for any writing material but find none. You slump on the bed and run your fingers over the last writings between you and Jason until your eyes close.

     You wake up due to a strong pinch on your cheek. You look around the room and find it empty. The sun was already setting. You stare at your arms and find your name and Jason’s written over and over. You smile and use your fingers to write his name slowly and heavily on your arm.

     You’re finally awake.

     You rub your fingers at his words and wish you could write back.

     Not replying, Y/N. Does that mean you don’t love me anymore?

     You frown at his words. He couldn’t possibly think that? As dense as Jason can be sometimes, even without his memories, he shouldn’t forget just how much he means to you. You lightly pinch your arm as a response. But he doesn’t write back.

     You lie back down on the bed and wonder when Alfred is going to let you out and possibly give you a pen. You’re supposed to be finding Jason after all. Even if the idiot isn’t being any help at all. You sigh.

     “Do you really think I could stop loving you?”

     You stare at the back of your hand and then slowly bring it close to your lips.

     It’s an odd sensation. Jason almost doesn’t feel it but something soft and moist had pressed itself against the back of his hand. He feels it again, leaving a trail that runs along the shape of his palm.

     Curiously, he brings his hand close to his lips and guesses where the next mark will be. He kisses it.

     You pull away immediately. You felt chapped skin pushing back against your lips.

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

[onlyfireandphoenix]

The Golden Rules (from the Golden Boy Himself)

Summary: Dick tries to teach Tim how to be a good brother (as well as a semi-normal human) through love and affection

Dick had called an emergency meeting of Robins, which meant that it was just him and Tim sitting in the living room with a tray of Alfred’s cookies. 

“Tim, we need to talk,” Dick was surprisingly serious, which was not comforting coming from the person who never learned to be serious outside of his masked life. Tim knew that something bad must have happened. What had he done this time? Was he going to get kicked out of the Robin mantle?

Dick looked at him, and frowned, “Tim we have a problem.” Oh no, he knew it. He was getting kicked out of the mantle and he didn’t even know what he did. “You are way too serious.” Wait… what? Tim glanced at Dick trying to puzzle out what he heard. Surely he must have heard wrong.

“Tim, you are like what? Ten?”

“Twelve,” Tim said indignantly.

Dick plowed right through like he hadn’t heard. “No ten year old should be as serious or reserved as you. It’s not healthy.”

Sooo…. Tim wasn’t getting kicked out? This was only an intervention! He couldn’t believe that Dick would call an emergency meeting to tell him that he needed to be less serious. 

“So, I thought that I will teach you how to be less serious.” Because he was the perfect example of less serious of course. Still out of respect for Dick and not wanting to hurt his feelings, Tim stayed.

“Great! Now, lesson number is one everyone always needs a hug. You can never give too many hugs.”

Tim frowned at Dick. He knew that Boy Wonder was much more knowledgeable in the area of physical contact, but he clearly remembered Batman’s face last time Dick tried to hug him. “Are you sure about this? Bruce never seems to like it when you hug him.”

Dick pouted at Tim. “Tim… you don’t trust me?”

And there were those stupid puppy dog eyes. Why did Dick always pull those puppy dog eyes on him? Any why did they work every single time? Tim sighed, and Dick gave a gleeful squeal and hugged Tim as if to prove his point.

After few weeks of not so subtly drilling this lesson into Tim’s head, Dick watched from a distance as after a long patrol, a exhausted Tim Drake shuffled over to where Batman was sitting in the cave and gave him a hug that might have been more of a collapse than a hug, but still, it was progress.

The first time Tim had tried Dick’s advice, Dick remembered watching Bruce stiffen like a board under the tiny boy’s embrace. It took a week and much encouragement from Dick for Tim to try it again. Dick might or might not have given many lectures to an emotionally constipated bat behind the scenes, but Tim did try again, and this time Batman did not stiffen. From then on it was smoother sailing. And Tim had begun hugging people on a much regular basis. Now even the emotionally constipated bat was getting use to the idea that it was not only Dick that gave hugs and that maybe normal people hugged each other more than just on their birthdays. 

Now that stage one was completed, Dick decided that it was time to move on to step two.

Tim sighed as Dick called another emergency meeting. He wondered if this one was an actually emergency. Knowing Dick he doubted it, but he still went anyway, if only to humor Dick. 

“It is time for lesson two,” Dick said in all seriousness. So no, it was not an actual emergency. Figures. “You need to know how to cuddle.” Was he serious? But knowing Dick, yes, unfortunately he was completely serious. “Cuddling on the couch is important in everyone’s life, so you need to get acquainted with it.” Dick decided to work on cuddling while watching Lilo and Stitch, which if Tim was honest, he wasn’t opposed to. 

Dick felt a surge on glee as one night after he had convinced Tim to watch another movie with him, Tim plopped right down next to him and curled up like a kitten next to Dick. The child was finally learning! 

Soon even Batman started noticing that Tim was becoming more like Dick, but at first he saw nothing wrong with it. The problems started when he found Tim dangling from a light fixture eating a bowl of cereal. That is when he called in Dick to reign in these ‘lessons’.

“Oh come on B, don’t you like having a more friendly, slightly more normal child around instead on a miniature version of you?”

“I do not mind that you are teaching Tim to be more socially interactive, but I do not want to see you teaching him your unhealthy addiction to cereal or to risk his neck my dangling from places that are not meant to be dangled from.” Dick sensing that he was not going to get anywhere by arguing, agreed. However, Bruce never said anything about discontinuing the lessons…

That is how Bruce got stuck with another, smaller Dick Grayson. 

Tim had heard that Jason was back. He had heard that something was very wrong inside his head, but he still hoped that maybe now, he could finally meet his predecessor, and brother that he never had. Of course he had been warned to stay away, and he would never break Batman’s order, so he didn’t try to go hunting for Jason, but if he happened to patrol a little later than normal or stray closer to Crime Alley than he did before, who could stop him?

This strategy of ‘avoiding’ Jason finally paid off when three shots came whizzing past Robin on one of his slightly longer patrols.

“Greetings from the dead, Replacement!” IT WAS JASON! Tim would recognize that voice anywhere, even though it was slightly distorted through the red mask Jason was wearing.

“JASON!” Tim squealed before launching himself at the vigilante. Jason who was not expecting this, took a moment to shake off the child that was… hugging...him?

“Get off me, you rat!” Tim only clung on harder and climbed further onto him with Dick-like agility.

“Ican’tbelieveitisreallyyou!” The miniature Dick rambled. “I have wanted to meet you since forever, and now you are here, and alive, and RIGHT HERE! I can’t wait until you get to go back to being Robin! You will kick so much bad guy derriere!” Who was this kid, and what had Dick done to him? This kid should not be allowed next to any sugar. Jason would make sure to warn Alfred, but knowing Alfred, he already knew and had locked all of the sugar in a bat-proof safe.

“Look Replacement, I don’t do all of the hugging and touchy feely things, okay?” He peeled the kid off of him and pinned the boy’s cape to a nearby wall.”

“Nightwing says that everyone always needs a hug. It is rule number one.” Even behind his domino mask, Jason could tell the kid’s eyes were unnaturally bright. And of course it was Dick’s number one rule. Jason would make him pay for corrupting this child.

The child suddenly changed the subject. “Are you aware of the breakout at Arkham?” And before waiting for a reply, he plowed on. “There were no major ones that escaped but a few of the lower ones did and I am trying to track them. I was wondering if you could help me?” 

Jason knew exactly what the little vermin was doing. Nightwing had already tried this tactic on him MULTIPLE times. “Why isn’t the big old bat helping you?”

“I think that he is away in a JL mission and Nightwing is away at Bludhaven.” 

“So they left you here to deal with it alone?” Jason couldn’t tell if he was impressed by the kid’s guts or furious at the bats for abandoning one of their own? Maybe a little of both? But no, he was not going to be roped into helping any of the bats.

Then the rat delivered his final blow. “Okay that is fine. But could you get me another cup of coffee? I haven’t been able to get enough sleep since the breakout.”

He would strangle Dick if he ever got his hands on him again. No remorse. In fact he was thrilled about the fact. Him and his manipulative little clone. 

“Replacement,” Jason growled in warning. He was not going to be manipulated into helping this accursed family. “Go home.”

“I really shouldn’t. Who knows what these villains might do while they are loose?” He gave a tired smile and was about to leap away, when Jason grabbed his arm.

“Fine, Replacement, I will help! But don’t think I don’t know what you are doing!” The little rat would be the death of him.

Tim grinned as he watched his predecessor kick some bad guy derriere. It was nice to have Jason back home, and Tim would make sure that he comes home permanently. Maybe then Dick would have someone else besides him to teach his rules. 

Jason had finished with the bad guys now, and with a sidelong look at Tim, he silently agreed to just truss them up for the police to handle.

“Now Replacement, go get some sleep and leave me alone.” Tim grinned again and let himself sag to the floor. He really was tired and Jason had never brought him that coffee. “Aww, I didn’t mean here!” Jason said plucking Tim up from the ground, but Tim was already on his way to dreamland. The thought of maybe this is what Dick’s rules were really supposed to be used for, flitted through his head before the sleep took over. The last thing he heard was Jason grumbling about having to drop him off, and with one last smirk, he was asleep.

He woke up a few hours later back inside the mansion with a slightly puzzled Dick hovering over him. “What happened out there last night?”

Tim smiled up at his big brother and replied, “I used rule number one.” Then he scooted off the makeshift bed and walked out of the room, leaving a still very confused Dick behind.

It wasn’t like Jason came over any more than normal, but if the bats got into some trouble, there was always someone who would miraculously save their bacon right in the nick of time. Now who this guardian angel was, who could guess….

………. 

Then along came Damian, the demon spawn. He was the one that really challenged Dick’s rules. Maybe this was the one person that truly did not like being hugged. But that couldn’t be true because he let Dick hug him. What was up with that? Tim frowned at his little brother who was sitting across the cave. If the rules worked for Jason, surely they would work for this child, so with a deep breath, he walked towards the demon child. 

“What are you doing, Drake?”

“Just coming to say hi, you know like a good brother would do.”

“We are not brothers, Drake,” the little brat was sure not making it easy.

“Okay, but will you be willing to come watch a movie with Dick and I?” Tim felt sure he could rope Dick into watching a movie. He loved stuff like that.

“Tt, I assume Dick is going to force me to do it if I refuse.”

Knowing Dick, he probably would. “Yes…”

“Fine, Drake, I will meet you up there.” Tim looked at Damian warily. Well that just happened. Tim assumed that it had been a victory for him, but one could never tell with Damian. After all, the assassin child could be plotting his murder at that moment. After a moment’s hesitation, Tim retreated to find Dick. 

…

“Hey Dick,” Tim poked his head into Dick’s room. “Would you mind watching a movie with Damian and I?”

“Oh sorry Timmy, you know how much I would love to, but B has me working on this case, and I don’t think I can take any time off. You know how he is.” Dick did look apologetic, but all Tim could think of was how dead he was going to be once Damian found out. This time there would be no stopping it. He was going to die, and knowing Damian, it would not be pleasant. But maybe he could turn this situation in his favor. Yes, he had been meaning to get some sleep sometime, and dying in your sleep was always better than being tortured. And if he didn’t die, there was always the benefit of getting more than two hours of sleep at one time. Maybe Dick’s rules could come in handy after all...

...

When Damian showed up to watch the movie with Grayson and Drake, he found Drake sitting all alone on the couch. Of course Damian knew right away that this meant that Grayson could not have come to this ‘bonding’ session, but for some reason that completely escaped him, he walked over and sat down anyway.

After a long moment of silence, Damian broke the silence. Just out of curiosity of what Drake would say he asked, “When is Grayson arriving?”

Drake visibly gulped and replied without looking, “Soon, but let us go ahead and start the movie.” It was said way too quickly. Drake might be an expert at lying when he was under the mask, but in familial situations like this he was less than competent. Still, Grayson would prefer it if Damian participated in this ‘brotherly bonding’, so he pretended to be blind to Drake’s obvious lie.

“Do you want to watch Star Wars?” Tim asked as he held out the whole collection with a pride that was something to be ashamed of.

“What would Grayson want to watch?” Damian couldn’t help himself. It was quite amusing to watch Drake squirm as he tried to figure out a way to justify a decision that Grayson would clearly dislike. 

“Well…… he isn’t here right now, and I would prefer to have a movie marathon right now.”

Damian didn’t care one way or another what they watched, so he gave his consent. Though he did vaguely wonder why Drake would want to watch a marathon. Usually he did not want to hang out with Damian if he could help it.

However, it did not take him long to figure out why Drake was so keen on the marathon because not even five minutes into the film, he was sound asleep. Wrapped around a very stiff Damian.

That sly little manipulator, Damian could almost not help but be impressed with Drake’s skill at masterminding this entire scenario just so he could get some sleep. Drake must know that Grayson would never allow Father to take Drake away from a “bonding” experience with his brother. He also knew that Grayson would never forgive Damian for waking Drake once he was finally getting some sleep, so Damian was stuck with an unconscious brother for 9 hours. 

Drake would pay for this later, but Damian admitted that he needed the sleep, so he waited out the movie. 

When Dick finally managed to take a break from the case, he was surprised to still hear noise coming from the living room. He quietly peeked his head and and laid eyes of something that he had only dared wish for in dreams. Not only was Timmy finally asleep, but he was asleep on Damian. And Damian wasn’t trying to kill him! The worst thing about this scene was Damian’s scowl, but there was not blood or knives, so Dick didn’t worry too much. 

There was no way he was going to interrupt this progress, so he quietly stole some of Alfred’s cookies and headed back to the cave. 

Tim awoke to find that he wasn’t dead. That was good at least. Damian was no longer in the room, but Dick sat on edge of the couch.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he grinned. Catching Tim’s questioning look around, he said, “Damian had to go to school. You know, we have to keep up the appearance of a semi-normal family.” Tim gave a small, sleepy nod, and rolled out of bed.

“I am really glad you taught me those rules.” Dick didn’t bother to think about Tim’s sleepy ramblings, so he just grinned and caught Tim when he tripped over a stray blanket.

……….

This time Tim didn’t even mean to use the rules. It wasn’t even his fault. He was just tired and had a bit too much work to do. The rest of his family shouldn’t have even noticed, but somehow they managed to catch wind of his perpetual exhaustion decided to do something about it.

Dick suggested that they hold an intervention because those had worked in the past. Jason suggested they knocked him over the head and carry him to bed. Bruce wasn’t there as usual. No one would let Damian give his suggestion because no one wanted another dead Robin (except Jason at times, but those were becoming more rare).

This meant that the bat brothers spent the afternoon arguing about whose idea was better. 

Damian rolled his eyes at Grayson and Todd. Sometimes his predecessors were fools. If Damian wanted Drake dead, the whole world would know, and that mechanical fraud would already be dead by now. However, Drake was an asset to the team, as long as he didn’t kill himself through exhaustion. 

His brothers were obviously incompetent to handle the situation, he snuck out of the room to handle it himself. 

Now where would a sleep deprived Drake be? He wouldn’t be in the cave because Father had banned him after Drake had collapsed mid lecture from Batman for lack of personal care. Probably then Drake would be holed up in his room. Sure enough, Damian could hear low moans coming from said room that could possibly resemble some form of language. The locked door was only a small inconvenience, and within seconds, Damian had the door opened.

“Demon Spawn?” a slurred voice asked hidden under a canopy of covers. “What ‘re you doin’ ‘ere?”

Damian pulled the covers away to find a haggard Drake surrounded by piles of papers. “Tt Drake, I am here to make sure you survive the next few hours.”

“I’m survivin’ great,” the slurred, slightly delirious voice responded.

“Grayson says that we need to have some ‘brotherly bonding’ time. He says that we need to watch a movie called The Guardians, and he has sacrificed some of his favorite chocolate milk for this.”

“But… I need to finish this for Bruce…” Drake stared blankly at the papers surrounding him.

Curse Drake and his stupid lack of self preservation instincts. But Damian needed to convince Drake to go along with this, not force him because Drake would only dig his heels in if he thought this might be some kind of trick. “Do you want to disappoint Grayson, Drake?”

“Well...no…” 

“Then we need to have this ‘brotherly bonding’.”

Drake looked suspiciously at Damian. “Why ‘re you insistin’ on this? ‘Re you gonna kill me again?”

Damian replied as gently as a former assassin could. “No, I just want to assuage Grayson’s constant naggings.” Apparently that was enough to convince the sleep deprived Drake of his sincerity because Drake shoved some of his papers aside to make room for Damian on the bed. Damian quickly set up the movie and moved nest to Drake on the bed. “Here is Grayson’s chocolate milk.” He handed Drake a mug of the milk he had swiped for this occasion. Grayson would not mind his donation once he found out what it was for. 

Drake clung to the milk and gulped it all down in only a few seconds. Damian was almost impressed with how he didn’t choke. Once the movie had started, Tim curled up against Damian, and within five minutes he was sound asleep.

Damian quickly scooted off the bed and collected the stray papers. He then gathered the discarded mug and made his escape.

Damian then went down to where his predecessors were still arguing. “The matter has been dealt with.” He said matter of factly as he interrupted their heated discussion. The both turned towards him with identical looks of horification. “I did not kill him, if that is what you are thinking.” Again, both faces sagged with relief.

“Then, what did you do?” Grayson asked hesitantly.

“I tampered with his chocolate milk.”

“Chocolate milk!” Grayson exclaimed. “My chocolate milk?!?” Todd promptly hit him in the head for being an idiot. “Okay fine, I guess that is okay.” Grayson grumbled.

“Drake will be asleep for at least 24 hours,” Damian reported.

“Good work,” Todd said, almost sounding surprised and possibly a bit relieved. 

“Tt, of course, Todd. Unlike you two, I was able to get the job accomplished.” Damian took that opportunity to escape before things could get sentimental. 

[aileysmirnov]

◇◆Ailey Villains Gallery: Scarecrow◇◆

Scarecrow's face claim: Adrien Brody

Secret vs Scarecrow! How did they met?

Ailey (Secret) and Scarecrow met 'thanks' to Batman:

One night in Gotham, Scarecrow infiltrated the Iceberg Lounge with the intention to Kill some of Penguin's Henchmen.

With a more "upgraded" (and letal) version of his fear gas.

Just as a way to send a message to Oswald who had stolen some of his gas and now was selling it for a very high price on the dark market.

To prevent Batman from intervening, Scarecrow convinced Riddler and Dr Pig to create a "distraction" (if murdering almost 11 people between the two and then make an "spectacle" about it, can be called like that) for the Bat.

And unfortunately when the "Caped Crusader" realized it was a trap (thanks to one of Riddler's "funny" riddles) he was already too far from the building.

Too far from stopping Scarecrow.

He analyzed all of his options pretty fast: he couldn't send Damian, he was with him, Dick was in Blüdhaven, He already send Tim after Riddler and Steph after Pig, Cass and Barbara where in another state with the Birds of prey, Duke and Kate where teaming up to solve a crime involving a new rising homicidal cult and Jason…he wasn't in good terms with Jason…again…and he losed his track at least 2 weeks ago.

And so…he reluctantly took the phone and dialed the number of the one person he could think of.

Ailey was doing the usual: shouting angrily and throwing a tantrum towards her employees (like the good little tyrant she is) for a last minute cancellation of 4 of the stellar models for the upcoming Winter collection of SVELLYO. When all of a sudden she received a call from the one and only: Bruce fucking Wayne.

—B! What a perfect timing! Is not bothersome at all!—she remarked the words sarcastically annoyed a tone that sounded like the venomous hissing of a snake.

—Listen Ailey, I don't have time for thi-

She cut him off

—What a coincidence! Neither do I, B's man! Byee~

—Ailey…—He didn't shout at her but his more menacing (than usually) tone, make her feel like he did; it was a voice tone that Bruce normally just used when he was with Joker and when he used it. Oh boy, You just knew the man ain't taking any shit.

—Listen to me. And listen. C A R E F U L L Y. Scarecrow is in the Iceberg Lounge it's 2 minutes away from you by flying. I need you to go after him and prevent whatever he's up to against Cobblepot.—He said a little more ""nicer"" (if it's even possible) this time, but still with a hint of frustration in his voice.

—yeah…well…I also need this little favor, B—Bruce was about to fucking lose it in that moment, there where lives in danger and this CHILD was just thinking of herself!! But before he could lash out at her with a "I'm dissapointed" speech; Damian took the phone.

—He said he'll do it, you have my word. Now…Go! —Robin said without thinking twice

—Thank you, my zelenyy*! I'm on my way! —and with an Angry Bruce Lashing out at every single thing on earth on the background, Ailey hanged up, wrote a quick note to his secretary, asking him to give all of her employees a rise (including him, of course) and sprinted out to SVELLYO's roof top; without a word to the perplexed staff.

Once she stood there.She could feel the cold night breeze hitting her face and without any doubt she jumped abruptly from one of the highest points in the city.

Her eyes opened at the middle of his falling, adrenaline and renewed energy cursing trough her veins, her blonde hair replaced with a glowing rose gold, a metalic blue growing in her gaze and her outfit conveniently transformed on an all black bodysuit with slight hints of gold on the bottom of her sleeves.

His whole body defying gravity, flying through the night sky with the same grace and glory of a swan and leaving a subtle trace of light glowing pink as she passed by.

She arrived at the Iceberg Lounge back entrance at least 5 seconds earlier from what Batman had predicted.

Penguin's henchmen where all gathered in what appeared to be a small cellar on the very back of the casino, they were complaining about an out of the blue"meeting".

Secret (Ailey) assumed it was Scarecrow's way to get them all in the same place and avoid any unnecessary complications.

With extreme caution she stood and watched near the skylight, trying to fade away her own slightly glowing nature with the moonlight.

Her eyes searched quickly inside the room, ans she soon spotted atleast 6 gas tanks oddly put in some of the poorly lighted corners of the cellar.

But no sign of the maniac

Or so she though until the abrupt pain in her neck and the obscure presence behind her sooner than later make her realize; she wasn't alone.

She could feel the infernal pain from the toxin filling his lungs and cutting her breath and her vision becoming a little bit dizzy.

—You should know better than spying on people, dear…It might not end up being what you expected—his voice was deep and unforgiving, a condescending tone and the weight of countless sleepless nights leaked through every word.

She tried to speak but only felt her throat closing.

—Now, now, dear…all will end up soon. —His tall and lanky figure covered by worn out clothes to match his own psychotic aesthetic made him look intimidating. And without any glimpse of empathy he proceeded to toss her body aside with a kick like if she was a filthy dead rat, and continue to watch expectantly to the ignorant henchmen above.

He was waiting, waiting for one of them to foolishly reveal where his beloved toxin was and after a couple of minutes one of them casually mentioned a secret basement where the most important items waited patiently for whoever was able to afford his almost ridiculously expensive price.

Crane smiled wickedly to himself…he had just what he wanted…almost.

He activated the slightly hidden tanks of fear gas and watched in admiration as some of the henchmen faces started to change into a horrified expression.

—Head's up, asshole!—He didn't even had time to process the situation properly, when Secret's hands where at both sides of his head, the tip of her fingers illuminated and emanating Rose gold strings of pure energy attaching themselves to Crane's mind.

And at that exact moment he remembered: the pain, the panic, the fear.

The very first time he tested his toxin, was on himself: he was laying in to that dirty old shack for what felt like an eternity; he screamed and begged and yet the hallucinations didn't leave him, his mind was racing with the most horrible thought it could possibly even consider, everything so real and yet so distant. He felt hopeless.

And the delicate strings clinging tight around his mind. Lord, what a bittersweet nostalgia! He felt the same, the same way as the first time, he could hear the screams, the voices, the endless discontent. But couldn't find anything around him…just…hollow and for some strange reason…that scared the shit out of him.

Ironically it had been years since the last time Crane felt genuine fear.

When Crane woke up, he was already in that horrible place: a worn out cell from Arkham

But strangely he didn't feel any kind of anger or frustration. No…he felt…elated in the best way possible almost like if he had reborn!

And so…he stood there; staring blankly at the small window with an almost devilish smile across his face.

Waiting for the next encounter

◆◇◆◇

Ailey felt so proud of herself, she had successfully managed to knock out Scarecrow, control the gas leak and save Penguin's henchmen! All alone! And even took the liberty to recover all of Crane's toxin samples Penguin had!

She couldn't wait to see Bruce's face, Oh that man owed her BIG TIME!

When Bruce and Damian finally arrived at the Batcave, he was welcomed by her.

She looked like a 10 year-old who approved one of his test and was proudly showing off the paper to his parents.

Wich made Bruce smile…a little (even if he doesn't admit to it)

—See? You can trust me, B!—she said handing him the samples.

—So you send him to Arkham? Hmm…honestly I didn't though you'll made it…but good job…I guess…?—Damian admitted, while taking off his mask.

—Well, I'm glad I'm not THAT disappointing, sir! —Her tone expressing the sarcasm and slight frustration and offence in every word. Which Damian only replayed with a faint little smile.

—…Good Job, Ailey…—Bruce spoke for the first time since they arrived

—…and thank you for your help…—He completed with a slightly more """friendly""" tone (which just means less stiffness in his voice but still maintaining his authoritarian tone)

—yeah…well…don't thank me yet…we had a deal!—She said while playfully floating around him and touching the ears of his Bat-suit; Bruce could only do as much as to touching the bridge of his nose trying to contain his very obvious nuisance.

—…What do want? —He said sighing heavily.

—Nothing much, really! I want You, Damian, Dick and Katy modeling for SVELLYO winter collection catwalk, next week! —

◆◇◆◇

OMG! That was fun! I was going to put a small and cute little drawing of Ailey touching the ears of the Bat-suit but I still haven't finished yet! So yeah…I will edit it once I have it done!

Anyway! I loved writing this, and I will be uploading more content for Ailey, wich now she has her official anti-hero name! And is called

🥁🥁🥁🥁

Secret!

Shout out to @melyaliz / @insideoflit for the name idea! I honestly struggle so much with names 😅

Thanks to @Shiro.GURu (on insta) for helping me with this! Love ya, girl <3

Tagging: @lobodesaturno @snowflake2sstuff @lord-carstairs @weam0theblueblues @morefarthanaway

[solarcelest]

A little Impetuous

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19160005/chapters/45540763 There’s something about the unique comfort being in Father’s arms. Sitting there, wrapped up and finally letting everything he had bottled up go. Grayson had been right, Damian had exploded. It was okay, though. Because he was finally warm, the phantom chill was gone.

The Himalayas were nothing compared to this. There, he had been prepared, layers upon layers of winter gear and heavy clothing helping to keep him warm against the mountains’ biting winds. Here, a foot deep in Gotham’s own white powder, he was reluctant to admit that he had been caught completely off guard.

An encounter with Clayface two days earlier had left him with a sprained ankle and a benching from his father. You need to think before you act, Damian! The man had said, Damian had only scoffed in response, he had only been helping.

That’s what he told himself he was doing now, helping. There was a case that he and father had been working on before his grounding, one that he was determined to finish. The man himself had put this file on the back burner, too busy dealing with other things that the man had apparently deemed far more important. Things that were neither Damian, nor the case they had shared.

His plan had been simple enough, wait until father went to sleep after returning from patrol, remain in his room until it was late enough for even Pennyworth to retire, and then make his way out.

He had gathered everything that he would need previously, his suit, his gear, etc. Entering the cave at this time of night, especially when he was not supposed to, wasn’t an option. There were too many alarms there, ones that were more difficult to bypass and hack than the civilian ones guarding the perimeter of the manor. After all, it’s not like this would be the first time he had slipped past those embarrassments.

He got out easily, tumbling into the chilled grass and sprinting into the woods nearby. He had a vehicle waiting at another location, here, it would have been idiotic to risk a get away as noisy as that.

The air was cold, and chilling for a November night. Much colder than it had been the other night. Damian recalls, when they had been fighting Clayface, he had nearly been sweating. He shrugs it off, focusing on the task at hand, it was probably just been because his adrenalin was up.

The case isn’t too far, and he parked his bike in the woods about two miles out, just to be extra cautious. A two mile run was nothing, and imagine Father’s face when Damian comes home to with the evidence needed to close the case-

There was a flury, white and small in front of his eye. It confused Damian, causes him to fumble in his running and take a second look. Is it ash from a nearby fire? A catch if moonlight on a small bug? Perhaps even… a figment of his imagination. But as he looks, closer this time, there is another, and another. And another.

Snow, he concludes.

He knows Gotham is cold, and that northern America experiences unreasonable amounts of snow each year, but wasn’t November a little early? The other night had been warm, or at least warmer than this night. He shakes his head, pushes on. His mother had taught him that he needs to be prepared for anything, that his weaknesses can never get in the way of his obligations. Any less is unacceptable, and entirely his fault. Returning back to the manor for his warmer gear would hinder his plans and require him to enter the cave, it was too risky. He pushed forth.

Three-quarters of a mile from the location of his awaiting bike the snow picked up. Previously, the flurries had been steady, but slow. Only just enough to give the ground a thin dusting, small flakes that melted soon after landing on Damian’s shoulders. Now, it seemed to come down in buckets, falling on him as if the heavens had opened up and were attempting to bury him in an act of karma.

The thick chunks of frozen water were piling on and sticking to his gear, sinking into and through the material. He fought a shiver, half a mile, it will be easy.

Or it should have been easy, if Damian wasn’t all of four-foot seven and already nearly knee deep. His feet dragged in the snow, his wet and now heavy cape trailing along in the snow. With one hand he held his hood over his head, with the other he attempted to shield his eyes from the spray. He had long since strapped his light source to his belt, a small glowing orb of LED that was dimming as it was slowly covered.

The rational part of himself was begging to go back, to return to the manor and cuddle by the fire with Titus and a fresh pair of pajamas. It told him that removing his coms and tracking device was imprudent and rash, asking why he was continuing even though he knew the chances of someone his size catching hypothermia in weather such as this. But that would be weakness, that would be defeat, even the mere thought of returning, of retreating was unacceptable and disgraceful.

He bit his tongue to stop his teeth from chattering.

The bike was in his line of sight now, his numbing fingers itching to start the vehicle even from where he was, fifty feet away. His toes stung in his boots and now that he thought about it he knew he should have brought his winter uniform, it was easier to shed material when overheating than not to have enough and become numb from the cold. The case should not involve any combat but in the case that it did, he was slightly worried that his inability to fully feel his limbs might hinder his abilities. He should probably call father now.

He didn’t want to, really did not want to, Damian knew Father was going to be furious but he tried to tell him whatever punishment the man had in mind was nowhere near as bad as losing a limb to the snow. No, he attempted to reason, Father will just be glad you are safe. Hopefully. Probably. Wouldn’t he?

He went to reach for his communicator, to commit the crime before he changed his mind, but it was gone. He had taken it off, not wanting his Father to use the tracker that he had incorporated into the device. Imbecile, he reprimanded. Everything that he had done tonight had been idiotic and had only worsened his situation. His punishment was going to be extended (or worsened), the case wasn’t going to be completed, he would only be proven, again, to Father that Damian was nothing but a liability.

He stopped pushing, the snow was up to his thighs now and he thought it unlogical how fast the substance was accumulating. He had no tracker, now way to return home, it not like the bike would drive in snow this deep anyhow. He had long since lost all feeling to the cold and noticed suddenly that he had stopped shivering. Not good. He would probably die of hypothermia, buried by snow. No one knew where he was, there was a chance no one even knew he was gone. No one was coming. And as he sunk down into the snow, he wondered briefly, that even if they knew, would they come then?

There was a deep rumbling and he was covered by a comforting blanket of black before he could answer himself.

***

Bruce was frantic. Titus had come running into his room twenty minutes earlier, running distraught circles around the bed. Bruce had startled, a little peeved about being woken from his sleep in such a way. But his anger was quickly replaced by concern. Titus was a good dog, one who didn’t bark for no reason. Faster than he could process his movements, Bruce was out of bed and down the hall to Damian’s room. Hundreds of possible scenarios playing in his head, a nightmare, a sudden sickness, an attempted kidnapping?

Needless to say, when he practically fell into the room to find the beginnings of snow fluttering through the open window and the bed perfectly made, his face hardened. There was a discarded com on the desk and a crushed tracker to its right. When will Damian learn? Bruce asked himself, already on his way to the cave, Titus on his heels.

He hurried himself into his own suit, sliding on his thicker cape and pulling on the cowl. He checked the time: 0338. He hoped the others would still be out.

“Robin’s missing.” He reported into his communicator. “I need assistance in a search around the manor, he removes his com and trackers and I believe he’s still in his summer uniform.” He waited a moment, coaxing Titus back upstairs as he did.

“The little bird escaped the nest again?” Came Jason’s voice, Bruce visibly relaxed. “You really should think about upping your security.”

“Can you take north, Hood?” Batman asked, strapping on his utility belt.

“Already on my way.” Jason replied.

Two minutes later found Bruce in the Batmobile and Alfred at the main computer.

“What happened, B?” Comes Dick’s worried voice.

“Robins gone, he ran off without his com or tracker.”

“Did you two fight?” Dick asks, worry lining his tone. He doesn’t mean it accusingly, he’s only concerned but Bruce can’t help the ache the innocent question brings to his chest.

“No.” He says, voice flat. “At least, I thought we were fine.” He amends. “I benched him two nights ago because of a sprained ankle.”

“His ankles sprained?”

“Yes, it should be mostly healed by now.” A pause. “But he’s in his summer gear.”

“Bruce! There’s like, three feet of snow outside!” Dick sounded panicked, the rushing of wind and quick breathed coming through his line. Bruce didn’t even have the heart to correct him about the use of names.

“Shit, the squirts not much taller.” Jason adds. “I’m north, three miles out. Do you know how far the kid got?” He asks.

“No farther than that. Titus woke me about twenty minutes ago.”

“As soon as we find the brat, I’m giving that dog a big ol’ steak.” Said Jason.

“I’m taking south.” Said Dick, as he started an off trail vehicle.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Haven, Wing?” Jason asked Dick.

“Probably crashing with Barbara.” Came Tims voice. Bruce perked up.

“Red Robin, can you assist?” He asked, sounding more hopeful than he would have liked to admit.

“I’m about five minutes out, I’ll take west.” He replies. Bruce nods, even though they can’t see him. He makes eye contact with Alfred as he starts the Batmobile.

“I’m on east then.”

***

It’s a surreal feeling, seeing his Grandparents for the first time. They look different than what he thought they would, younger. His grandmother has chestnut brown locks, pulled back into an elegant clip. She has a string of pearls around her neck, a few of which are missing. She has father’s eyes. Or, Damian supposes, Father has hers.

His grandfather looks like a mirror image of his father. The man's eyes are blue as well, if a bit more grey, and peer down at Damian with the same fondness as his wife.

“Damian Wayne, aren’t you beautiful.” The woman says, getting down on her knees to be more eye level with him. She is taller than Damian expected. The boy himself does not know how to respond, does not know if he can.

“Just like your father, at that age.” His grandfather adds. Damian hides his blush beneath his shock.

“I never did like that uniform.” Martha begins. “It has a tragic history, and it’s so dangerous.” She sighs, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Isn’t it enough that two of my grandsons were killed in this suit?” She asks, seemingly to no one in particular. “What more will it take for him to stop?”

“He’s doing it selflessly, Martha.” Says the older man, coming to stand closer to his wife. “For Gotham and it’s people.”

“But this poor boy, so small-“ She begins again. Damian bites back a retort, he is not small. He’s growing.

“You know Damian wouldn’t stop, given the choice.” He adds. “And you know Bruce gives him that choice.”

“I know, darling.” She sighs, looking back at Damian.

“Where’s Father?” Damian blurts, muscles tensing under her stare, even though it is a kind one.

“Oh, child.” She says, eyes full of sincerity and emotion. “You are-“ She begins herself, but seems to think better of it, and restarts. “Do you feel cold? Or pain?” Damian thinks. No, he doesn’t feel cold, he only feels homesick. He shakes his head.

“That’s not good, Martha.” Thomas Wayne cuts in, now coming to kneel besides Damian’s grandmother.

“How long?” She asks.

“Not much longer.” Thomas answers.

“Not much longer until what?” Damian demands.

“Damian, you made a very poor decision going out alone tonight.” His grandfather says. Dami  bristles, the man sounds so much like Father. Damian wishes it were Father…

“You got very cold.” His grandmother adds, her voice is much softer, much more gentle. She talks to him as you would a child, his grandfather does not. “Your body's shutting down, that’s why your here.”

“I-I'm dying?” He realizes suddenly, throat constricting as his eyes begin to burn. This cannot be happening, not again not a second time, not when he has only just gotten back! His eyes begin to grow moist, he’s numbly aware of his lip began to tremble.

“Oh dear child, don’t cry.” Coaxes his grandmother. She reaches to caress his cheek, and for a moment he pulls away. He is not some small child who needs coddling, he needs to be alive, he needs to breath again, to see the sun and the stars. He needs to feel his heart beat in his chest.

But she touch is so like Fathers, gentle and with a sole purpose. To comfort, to love. Damian takes a moment, chokes down his pride and the sob in his throat and lunges at the women in front of him.

“Where’s my father?!” He screams into her shoulder. He trembling, shaking like Pennyworth’s flowers when Titus has just trampled through them.

“Shhh.” His grandmother hums in his ear, his grandfather places a hand on Damian’s small shoulder.

“I want Father!” He continues, but their comfort quiets him. “I want my dad.” He pleads.

***

The fifteen minutes it takes for the cold to crackle back to like feels like the equivalent of a hundred years. It’s Dick who comes in first, voice thick with unsuppressed tears.

“B.” He says, and Bruce immediately comes to attention. “I found his bike.” Bruce stills. Dick found Damian’s bike but… not the boy himself?

“I’m coming to your location, wing. Search the snow around that area.” Says Jason, snapping Bruce out of whatever haze he had fallen into.

“I’m on my way, boys. Two minutes out.”

Bruce races through the snow, foot pressed hard onto the gas in his best attempt to make seven minutes his promised two. He arrives in barely over one.

Tom comes just after, quickly taking to searching his own section of snow.

Bruce is digging like a dog. Fast and furious on his hands and knees, scraping up snow into his gloved fingers and throwing it quickly behind him. He’s frantic, Damian’s small for eleven, he could easily be hidden beneath the snow and no one would know until it melts. And worst of all, the last conversation they had, had made his son believe he was made at him. Bruce has just been terrier the boys rash decisions were going to land him hurt.

Look how far that has gotten them.

He almost misses the way his fingers catch in his digging, as he faintly feels the familiar drag of fabric on fabric. He sees red, green, and then the black and yellow of his sons beloved cape.

“Boys!” He yells, all other searches pausing as his sons look to him. “I-I found him.” Bruce says, hauling Damian’s small, chilled form to his lap. He hastily removed a glove and feels for a pulse, he’s met with a weak and lazy thump. “I found him.” He breaths.

His grandmothers face is happy when Damian leaves, yet, there’s a sad twinkle in her eyes. She doesn’t want Damian to go, he can tell, he thinks she must be lonely. His grandfather has not stopped looking at him the entire time he has been with them. His attention is full, it is as if the man is studying Damian, trying to memorize every inch of his being before the boys departure.

The boy himself does not know why their expressions suddenly changed from empathetic to a sort of relief, not at first anyway. Then there is a tingling. It’s not warm, but not too cold either, slightly painful but not overly so where he cries out. Damian doesn’t understand, hadn’t they just told him that he was dead? That this was the afterlife? He was sure people couldn’t be resurrected twice.

Suddenly, the quiet is placed with a dull ringing and frantic voices sputtering conversation around him. There’s the soft hum of equipment, the chill of a draft. The air is slightly damp. It doesn’t take long for Damian to piece together that he is in the cave.

His limbs sting- no, burn. Likely both. They are numb with cold and the warm sheets that swaddle him hurt, he’s hypothermic. He shifts a little, movement going undetected through the noise. There’s something in his wrist, an IV of warmed fluid, he thinks.

He’s had hypothermia before, he knew most of the methods used to treat it, but even so he does not believe he passed out when he was previously trapped. Neither does he remember feeling this way, not hot or cold, just burning, stinging. The blankets were much too stiff.

He wanted his father. He had wanted his father since he had been benched two days prior.

Damian groaned, titling his head back and trying to roll over and sit up all at the same time. It didn’t work very well.

“Woah, there!” Todd says from where he’s standing by the bed. He puts a giant hand on each of Damians much smaller shoulders, steadying him. “Kids awake.” He says. Damian straightens, using the hand that doesn’t have the IV to rub the sleep from his eyes. His fingers are still numb, tingly like the rest of him and hard to maneuver.

“F-father.” Damian croaks, looking frantically around the space for the man. If he has to wait a moment longer he thinks he might-

“Shit.” Jason swears, moving to stand. “Bruce! Someone get Bruce down here!” He shouts, coming closer to the bed to kneel and card a hand through Damian’s hair. The younger boy wants to pull away, to tell Todd off for belittling him but the warmth of the body heat is too much not to lean into. Todd’s frown deepens.

“There’s no need to cry, Dames. They’re coming.” Jason assures. Damian didn’t realize he was crying. But now that the older boy mentioned something, yes, he could feel cold drops sliding down his cheeks. It made since with how much his chest was aching and his body hurting. Todd’s attempts at pacifying the boy don’t help much. Damian doesn't want the others to be coming, he wants Father to already be there. He wants Bruce to have been the one waiting by Damian’s bedside, not some older brother who was undoubtedly placed there by Pennyworth.

Footsteps thunder loudly on the steps by the caves entrance. Damian turns his head quickly, barely registering the pain that it brings, to see his father barreling down the staircase. The mans hair is disheveled, his shirt crooked and one of his pant legs tucked into his sock. He looks just about as tired as Damian feels.

The man doesn’t say anything, just comes over quickly. He fumbles to catch his sons flailing body but he would have rushed even if Damian hadn’t flung himself out of the bed, desperate and touch starved. He regretted ever stepping away.

“My apologies Master Damian.” Alfred interrupts. “I forced your father to step out and change into dry clothes himself, less he catch a cold.” Damian remains silent, his face pressed into his fathers large shoulder as he swallows his sobs. The heat from the older man is all comforting, healing Damian’s stinging skin like holy water.

Damian wants to scream, wants to cry and throw a tantrum like the children he sees in the park when Grayson forces him to ‘play’. He wants to throw a temper tantrum, wants to stop his feet and throw himself on the floor until he is given a second chance. But he doesn’t- can’t, rather. That would be childish and unacceptable. Weakness, no matter how much he wanted to let everything out, was punishable and not fit for someone of his status. He swallowed again, blinking and trying to turn his head so his running nose did not stain his father's crooked shirt. He saw that despite his best efforts, some had rubbed onto the material anyway. He stilled, breath hitching in his throat at the sight. But instead of… whatever it was that Damian had been expecting, the man only increased his coddling.

“Its okay, your okay.” His father soothed, shocking Damian when he began to gently bounce the boy. “Everything’s okay now.”

Damian wondered if it really was.

***

Over the next week, despite his internal wishes, Damian avoided his father like the man had the plague. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Father, it was just that he couldn’t. There was no way to face him after his last display and, honestly, Damian was a little apprehensive to.

Nearly every night since his scare, he curled up in a shivering ball on the couch, leaning into the heat of the fire place as he wrapped himself in a wool (but vegetarian) blanket. There was something like a phantom chill that lingered in his bones, no amount of warm tea or nudges (cuddles) from Titus could cure them. He may or may not have tried.

The fear of his punishment for his latest actions was only intensifying his fear of returning to his grandparents. The couple were nice, and Damian was secretly happy he had finally been able to meet them, but the way in which he had meet them terrified him.

He had almost died. Again.

It wasn’t the same hell that he had visited before, far from it, but it was death. It was away from the manor and his family, from his pets and his home. It was a barren wasteland with no animals or trees or movie and game nights. There were no art materials, nothing to draw. He couldn’t be Robin there, and because of that, he could not be with his father.

He had not been Robin, not truly, since the fight with Clayface. His ankle had long since mended, he was a quick healer, but Damian believed Father doubted his current mental abilities in a fight. He assumed that the man was aware of his late night escapades to the fire and the monstrous mugs of tea he consumed before returning back to bed. His nightmares. The steaming showers he took every morning to rid himself of his fear induced sweat. Afterall, it wasn’t as though he was trying to hide any of it.

“You should talk to him.” Dick had said to him, Damain was sitting with him in the park, sketching a nearby Labrador.

“I don’t follow, Richard.” Damian was trying to deflect, even though he was aware that wouldn’t work with Grayson. The man saw right through him.

“You can’t keep it all inside, Dami.” Dick sighed. “Your gonna explode.”

Damian scowled, setting down his sketchpad and pencil to turn to the nuisance next to him.

“I’m not you, Grayson.” He spat. “I do not talk about feelings.”

“You should, though. You both need to.” Damian didn't responded. He didn’t know what to say, it's not like Grayson was wrong. He returned to his work, a sudden shiver causing his pencil to slide. Dick shimmied out of his coat, wrapping it over Damian’s own.

“Com’on, let's head home before you catch a cold.” Dick said, standing and offering his hand.

“Tt. I don’t get sick.” Damian retorted.

“Fine, before I catch a cold, then.” Dick amended and Damian agreed, taking Dick’s hand.

***

Damian may claim that he doesn’t get ill, but there is no denying his nightmares. They’re border line night terrors, near impossible to wake from. He’s nearly thankful he’s had so much practice at staying silent.

They’re always the same, or very similar. Sometimes it's the typical Heretic dream, lately he’s been buried. Mountains and heaps of wet and extremely heavy snow piling on top of him as he the scene slowly dims. For a moment, it will be silent. Then the screams start. They’re familiar voices, ones that he would recognize anywhere. As the light brightens once again, he sees he is right. The bodies of his family laying a heap, his own hands bloody, his clothes speckled in crimson. His grandparents stand proudly before him.

“We told you.” They would laugh. “We told you!”

Then the scene would dim again, and when it lightened, he was in the same hell as he had been before. The Heretic would sit on the ground next to him. “This is the place for people like us.” He would say, his voice with a menacing growl.

That was always when Damian would gasp awake, drenched, and fumbling for the light switch.

***

“I think we need to talk, son.” Father says one day, after corning Damian in the library. The boy looks up from his book.

“About what, Father?” He asks, feigning innocence. This is the conversation that he’s been wanting to avoid for the last week, the reason that he had devoted so much of his time to assure he avoided the man.

“Why did you go out the other night?”

“There was a case to finish.” Damian said, closing his book.

“Is that what this is about?” Father asks, his brow is furrowed in thought.

“Yes, it may have been minor but that does not matter! Every case is important father, one cannot be left unsolved.”

“I know Damian.” Bruce sighs.

“Then why-“

“The case wasn’t unsolved.”

“Don’t- wait, what?” Damian’s eyes are comically wide, his mouth slightly open at the harshness of this new information.

“I solved that case after the fight with Clayface.” Father admits. Damian is silent. Father finished the case… without Damian? He had thought that had been their case. They were supposed to finish it together.

“Why?” Damian asks, voice soft. If Bruce listens close enough he thinks he can hear the slightest of quivers.

“It was a simple case and I had just finally got you to sleep, I wasn’t going to wake you for that.” Fathers trying to reason, trying to tell Damian how it was more logical for the man to finish the case on his own. Damian doesn’t hear that, to him, it’s only father’s way of telling Damian that he was a liability. That it was easier to work without Damian.

Damian swallowed thickly, oh God, Grayson was going to be so proud.

“I’m sorry.” He says. Father reels, looking at Damian with a mix of shock and confusion.

“For what?” The man asks.

“For hindering you in your work, for slowing your progress.” The boy swallows again. “For being a burden.” Father blanches.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been avoid-“

“I’m not as ignorant as you think, son.”

“I was being cowardly, I apologize.” Damian finally looks up. “I am ready to receive my punishment now.”

“Punishment?” Bruce asks, eyebrows raising.

“My actions were far from permissible.” Damian adds.

“Well, yes. You know I don’t like it when you sneak out.”

“Oh….” Damian looks up at his father with his brow furrowed in confusion. “I meant after. I should not have been blubbering on your shoulder like an infant. It was a moment of momentary weakness, it will not happen again.” He assures, face trying to show determination, even through his apprehensive eyes.

“I would never punish you for crying Damian.” Bruce assures the boy, reaching out to put his mit of a hand on the boys knee. He seems to think about what he is going to say next. “Did you mother ever…” The rest is left unsaid.

“Yes.” Damian whispers. His lip is trembling again, eyes moistening. He knows now that it’s terrible. His time with Father in Gotham has taught him that’s not how parents are supposed to treat their children but Damian also knows he is not the normal child. Maybe there was something about him that just made people treat him as they had

The tears are spilling over before he can stop them and he fights from stiffening. Father had just told him it was okay. So it was, he could cry, right?

“Let it out, son.” Bruce says. It’s all Damian needs to tear down the flood gates, to let everything that he’s held in though the last many, many years, out. His time at mothers, being left to his father, his father’s sudden absence, his death, everything. There's a relief that floods over him, the building weight off his shoulders lifting.

Father holds him in his lap while Damian sobs. He’s never felt so small and helpless, so childlike before. He doesn’t think he minds it.

[tf-tere]

A Fallen Star - 4

(I feel the need to make this clear...Starfall is a sparkling. 

Like many children, she has a bit of an overblown idea of what she can accomplish. 

Look, just because I thought I was Batman as a kid didn't make my decision to jump off the playground wearing a cape any less likely to end in a painful face plant. Just saying. Anywho, enjoy a dose of fluff. And the seeds of coming angst.

Words: ~ 2600) It was becoming more difficult to remind herself that the Autobots were the enemy. They’d saved her, fixed her wing, and she actually liked their organic allies. None of them were fliers and they had no reason to offer her comfortable quarters… so why had one of them, someone, painted the ceiling of her new room to look like the sky? It wasn’t a great paint job, but they’d made an effort.

 Starfall huffed and sat up on her new berth, turning over to lie on her cockpit so she couldn’t see the painted ceiling. She didn’t want to like these Autobots. What would her carrier say if he could see her now? 

A choked noise escaped the sparkling before she pressed her face down into the berth. During the day it was easier to keep her processor occupied. But now, alone and trying to recharge? The spark crushing sorrow tried to swamp her; her processor dragging up the image of the greyed frame at the control panel. She couldn’t think of it as her carrier. Her carrier had been vibrant and full of energy. That thing had just been a… husk. 

After a few minutes trying, and failing, to push back the grief, Starfall sat up. She knew slipping into recharge when her processor was all tangled in these memories would lead to a bad flux. The last thing she needed was another of those. So she decided to test what Ratchet had told her when she’d been shown to her new quarters. He’d claimed that she wasn’t a prisoner, and so the door would not be locked. Of course, he’d also explained that could be changed if she used their trust to start trouble. Honestly, she wasn’t looking to start trouble. Starfall just wanted to walk around until she was too exhausted to think and could recharge in peace. 

The door to her quarters opened soundlessly. Starfall stuck her head out of the narrow opening and quickly looked up and down the hallway. All was quiet and the lights were dimmed. She automatically turned up the sensitivity in her own optics to compensate. The sparkling carefully slid the rest of her frame out of the doorway and closed it softly behind herself. She was tense, expecting some sort of alarm to go off. But this was just… quiet. 

Starfall hesitated before starting to walk. She had no real destination, just a desire to move until she could fall back into recharge. Something in the back of her processor obviously had different plans, because she soon found herself standing in the entryway to the main part of the base. Where the elevator was located. Miko had told her about the elevator and Starfall felt a familiar pang of need to see the sky. She had been stuck in here for cycles now! Normally a cycle didn’t go by without her seeing the sky or outer space. It made part of her processor feel like it was… itchy. 

She could walk over and use that elevator device to go outside, see the sky and feel the wind. But unlike the rest of the base she’d been wandering through, this room was not empty. Ratchet was sitting in front of the computer, obviously working on something. Starfall knew she was skilled; her carrier had often praised her and obviously she was a match for any Autobot that might dare to stand in her path. But where would she go? Even if she did defeat Ratchet and escape, she had no idea where the Decepticons on this planet were located. The thought of slowly starving until she deactivated, alone, was something that sent chills through her frame. She’d been too close to that once already. 

There was the option of just turning around and continuing her rambles elsewhere since Ratchet hadn’t noticed her presence yet. But now that she’d seen him, she didn’t feel like wandering alone through the hallways anymore. 

Starfall walked toward Ratchet, only hesitating for a moment when he looked up at her approach. It wasn’t like she was trying to sneak up on him. Or cause trouble. 

“What are you doing up? You should be recharging.” He didn’t even have the decency to turn off the computer and give her his undivided attention. Starfall had to push back the desire to do something mean spirited just to get a real reaction out of the old grounder. 

“Can’t recharge.” She muttered, crossing her arms and standing far enough away that she wouldn’t have to crane her neck far to look at him. Even with Ratchet sitting on some silly, improvised chair he was still much taller than her. 

“Can’t? Or won’t?” At least now he had turned slightly to acknowledge her. Ratchet’s expression looked like a strange combination of knowing and concerned. 

Starfall took a moment to consider the difference in the words before shaking her head slightly. “Can’t.” 

“Huh.” Ratchet rubbed at his eyes for a moment. “Well, I can see if I have som-”

“What are you doing up?” She interrupted, curious and only a little disappointed that she didn’t have free run of the base. 

Ratchet huffed, looking at her with narrowed optics. “I don’t need as much recharge as a sparkling. And someone has to keep watch on the monitors.”

 “Sounds boring.”

“It is.” He made those two words sound so tired. 

Starfall quickly walked over and clambered up into the medic’s lap before he could protest. She didn’t like the old grounder, but seeing him sitting alone just like she was alone felt… wrong. It didn’t mean anything. “Maybe you can tell me about it and bore me into recharge.” 

Ratchet stared down at her, face contorting through several emotions before he sighed. “I can’t decide if I should be insulted. Fine.”

The sparkling grinned and settled more comfortably, looking at the screens as the medic began to explain. At least this would keep her processor occupied.

~

Optimus stepped into the main room of the base and stopped, silently taking in the scene before him. Ratchet was seated at the computer monitors, his head tilted back and optics offlined. Optimus had been telling him for days that he needed more recharge, but the medic was stubborn. Finding Ratchet recharging at his station would have been amusing enough, but that wasn’t everything. 

Starfall was curled up on Ratchet’s lap, shifted over enough that her wings could hang off the side of his left leg. The top of her head was almost pressed against his knee guard. The sparkling was obviously deep in recharge as well, small frame limp. 

While he was pleased to see some progress being made with getting to know the sparkling, he also wanted to send Ratchet to his quarters for rest. Optimus had come to relieve the medic from his monitoring duty. He also didn’t want to startle the sparkling awake. After a moment of thought he stepped closer to the pair. Neither stirred. Optimus reached down and carefully lifted up Starfall’s small form. As he’d hoped, she didn’t react to the gentle motion. Once a sparkling was in recharge they tended to stay that way unless truly disturbed. 

Ratchet, on the other servo, woke with a start. He had survived millenia of war by being aware of the slightest disturbance. The medic relaxed when he noticed it was just Optimus, smiling gently down at him as the large Autobot cradled the little sparkling. 

“Optimus, don’t startle me like that.” He tried to sound gruff, but Ratchet’s face flushed slightly with energon. Embarrassed because he’d been caught recharging on duty? Or because he’d been caught in a cute moment with their orphaned sparkling? 

“My apologies. I wanted to move Starfall to ensure she was not woken.” Optimus kept his tone warm, approving. 

Ratchet stood, wincing as he stretched a bit. “Yes. Well. I can take her back to her quarters before finding my own berth.” He grumbled after a moment. 

Optimus carefully transferred Starfall into Ratchet’s servos. He paused and stroked a digit along her back. The plating was smooth and warm. “Why was she up?”

“Having trouble recharging, apparently. I think she was probably testing out her new freedom and having a look around.” 

“At least she felt safe enough to recharge with you.” Optimus said, straightening up to his full height. “I had worried she would be more trouble.”

Ratchet snorted and gave the recharging form in his servos a stern look. “Less to do with trust than exhaustion, Optimus. She’s not refueling properly, though I can’t figure out how or why!”

Optimus set a servo on Ratchet’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I have faith that you’ll be able to get through to her, old friend. Starfall has been through a lot in a very short amount of time. She needs your support and patience.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” The medic grumbled to himself as he turned to leave. 

~

The best part of the day, without a doubt, was when Miko, Raf, and Jack came from school. Starfall spent most of the days in her quarters, where she could be left alone. Bumblebee and Bulkhead weren’t so bad, but they looked at her with concern and pity. It made her plating crawl. And Ratchet was always just… watching. Like he knew when she was planning to get into some little mischief. Starfall could barely be in a room with Arcee without trading glares or barbed comments. They hadn’t warmed up to each other since their first meeting. And Optimus… made her uncomfortable. Not because being around him was bad, but because something in her spark told her she could trust him. And she didn’t trust that feeling. 

It was clear that the organics-humans- were sparklings-children- like she was, so there was no need to feel looked down on. Literally and figuratively. Only Jack was close to her height, and Starfall had the strangest feeling she was actually a little taller than him now. Hadn’t they been the same height when she first met them? No matter, it was nice not to be the shortest person around. 

They took delight in teaching her about earth things. It made communicating with them easier. She did have to check with Jack and Raf about some things. On occasion, Miko would tell her things that were lies just to mess with her. Starfall didn’t mind, she told lies about Cybertronians to the girl so she’d have to check with Bulkhead too. 

It was Miko that Starfall spent the most time with. The girl was fun to hang out with and had some wonderful ideas for pranks. Their guardians didn’t approve, but neither seemed bothered by that. 

“So explain to me again what the point of this is?” Starfall looked from the bucket in Miko’s hands to the metal beam high up by the ceiling. 

“The point is that it will be hilarious. You don’t understand, you can never get rid of glitter. It will haunt you like the ghosts of your regrets.” Despite the slightly dark wording, Miko was grinning brightly up at Starfall. 

Starfall huffed and glared up at the metal beam. “Fine, but how are we going to get it up there?”

Miko reached up and tugged on one of Starfall’s wings suddenly. The sparkling hissed and quickly pulled the appendage away, taking several steps back from the human. “Hey! Those are sensitive!!” In fact, they’d been getting more and more sensitive over the cycles- days. Over the days. 

“Sorry.” Miko shrugged a bit. “But you have wings, why don’t you use them and fly the bucket up there? I’ve attached fishing wire to it so we can pull it down without anyone noticing until it’s too late.”

Starfall lightly touched the edge of her wing, feeling the itchy twitches starting up again. She sighed and looked away from Miko. “I still can’t really fly. I mean, you’ve seen me try. Ratchet said I’m not allowed to keep practicing inside.” She huffed out again and crossed her arms. “Not that they’ve let me outside since I got here.” 

Miko reached out to place a hand lightly on Starfall’s arm. “I’m sorry, Starfall. Hey, what if you held onto the wall? You know, for stability! Then you wouldn’t fly in circles and crash.” “I didn’t crash.” Starfall snapped out between clenched denta. “Riiiight. Well, wanna give this a try?” She held up the bucket, wiggling it back and forth. “Or are you scared…?”

Starfall snatched the bucket from the girl, still careful not to hurt Miko with her claws. “I can do it!” She stomped over to the closest wall and shot a glare back at her friend. “And I didn’t crash.” 

Perhaps it had been rash to claim she could get up there. But Starfall couldn’t stand the thought of being seen as weak or scared. It didn’t matter if it was true, people could use those things against you. She had to be strong, like her carrier had been. That thought helped steady her. 

Starfall dangled the bucket off one arm by the handle and carefully dug her claws into the wall. It wasn’t too difficult to force them into the concrete. She kept the power from her thrusters just high enough to give her a little lift. No need to try and show off for Miko. It was going alright, keeping one servo full of claws in the wall and reaching up with the next, until Miko decided to tease her. 

“You know, maybe the problem is that you don’t fly right.” The human girl was sitting cross legged on the floor, obviously having gotten bored with watching Starfall’s slow progress.

“Like you would know?!” Starfall spat the words over her shoulder, wings trembling. 

“I’m just saying, I’ve seen another seeker fly. And he doesn’t fly like that. Actually, I’ve only ever seen him fly as, like, a proper plane. Never when he had feet.” Miko was grinning brightly up at her.

“Pedes.” She growled out. If Starfall had to learn the human words for things, she figured her friends should return the favor. “They’re called pedes, not feet. You have feet. Useless feet.” 

She had let go of the wall with one servo so she could turn to properly glare down at Miko. Starfall felt herself unbalance, wobbling as she tried to stabilize her thrusters beneath herself again. Instinct made her flare her wings, trying to use them to keep herself upright, but the sensors were glitching. They weren’t processing data correctly. 

Instead of straightening and moving back against the wall, Starfall found herself spinning away. Her other servo was ripped free from the concrete as she lost control. Everything twisted in a blur of colors, limbs flailing before she slammed into something solid. Starfall yelped when her cockpit hit the wall. Her thrusters cut out and she fell hard to the ground, just missing landing on one of her wings. 

“Starfall!” Miko had rushed to her side. 

The sparkling pushed herself up, tossing the now empty bucket away. “Ugh.” Starfall wasn’t sure what was worse, the injury to her pride or the fact that she was now coated in purple and pink glitter. 

“You’re not hurt?” It sounded like Miko had swallowed something that was trying to get back out. Her face was turning red as she slapped a hand over her mouth. 

Starfall narrowed her optics and stood, shaking herself as best she could. Nothing but a few minor dents. “Don’t you dare tell Ratchet!” She snapped, feeling angry. Angry was easier than hurt or scared.

“Whoa, whoa.” Miko raised her hands, chuckling slightly. “I won’t say a thing.” 

“Good.” Starfall turned on her heel and stomped out of the room, trailing glitter as she headed to try and wash off the worst of this gunk. She needed a minute alone to gather her thoughts and emotions. What if… what if there was something wrong? What was a seeker that couldn’t fly?

[writingthingsisdifficult]

The man in my dreams

This is a story of dreams, of heartbreak, and soulmates. Some fluff, some angst, a little bit of blood, a little bit language...

I worked hard on this, so please let me know what you think. I also have a tag list; so let me know if you want on it. Or if you want off it, I guess. There’s a few people I can’t tag anymore. Let me know if you’ve changed your url or something, yeah?

Edit: I don’t know what the weird symbols are, but they disappear when you click the read more. Also: yes there is a read more - but for some reason it doesn’t show up on mobile. Sorry.

Word count: 7107

He grips my foot tighter as he bandages the wound. It is just a small nick, but he seems uneasy, and I don’t want to upset him further, so I don’t move. “Tell me,” he says, and there’s an emotion I can’t interpret laced in his voice.

“W-what?”

“Your story. Tell me.” He waves his free hand, indicating for me to get on with it. “From the beginning.”

“Uh…” I clear my throat, and try to ignore the burn from the screaming. “M-my first memory is…” This is harder than I thought it would be. I’ve always had dreams and aspirations, but it’s not to die by the hands of some nutter who gets off on people’s sob stories. Of course I’m not my usual top self.

Growling, he gathers a fistful of my hair and yanks, pulling my head backwards. The pain brings tears to my eyes. “Now!”

I let out a long breath, and a plan of sorts forms in my head. Maybe I can distract him long enough to work my hands free of the rope. And then? Let’s worry about that later. “Y-yeah… hhhhso. First mem-memory. Uhhh… I remember waking up, screaming from a nightmare where I was covered in flames. If I close my eyes I can still feel the heat on my face… I screamed so hard my throat ripped and I could taste blood on my tongue, and… and Dad spent hours trying to calm me down. Heh… it wasn’t until he started humming along to the soft rock radio station I finally closed my eyes and drifted off into an uneasy sleep. I guess I must have been around three or something.”

He nods, and his apparent calm encourages me to continue. I brace myself and bring forth the story I intend to tell him.

“I had a very happy childhood. I did. My parents loved me, and I never wanted for anything. Yet I always felt something was missing. Like I wasn’t whole. I tried not to think about it too much, because like everyone else, I just wanted to be normal and accepted.

But sometimes this longing crept out; when I was sleeping and had no control over myself. When I turned five the dreams became more frequent, and I started to recognise a pattern.” There’s always a pattern, if you know where to look, and it didn’t take me long to see it.

“’Momma! Momma!’ My cries were followed by frantic footsteps on the soft carpet. I think there was a sharp crack, then a low curse being thrown into the room, but I’m not entirely sure. I was too scared to care that Mom had trodden on one of my favourite Barbies.

‘What is it, pumpkin? Another nightmare?’ Mom’s voice was like a soothing blanket over my frayed nerves as she picked me up and held me close. Yes, it was another nightmare, but it wasn’t an ordinary nightmare. My six-year-old brain recognised that much.

Wiping my nose on Mom’s shirt, I sniffed and blinked away the tears that stuck to my eyelashes. ‘Uh-huh. The same… A dark, um, monster was coming in through the window, and he was so scared, and… and then someone was shooting…’ The flash of flames from the gun was what woke me up. To this day, I’m still terrified of… of fire.”

I sigh, and try not to think about my current predicament. Right now a little fire almost seem like a good thing. “Anyway. So Mom stroked my hair and smiled softly. ‘Oh,’ she said, as if she was holding back. ‘You were dreaming about, about S… Sander? again?’ She always struggled to remember the dreams I’d told her about before, and for some reason that annoyed me exceedingly.

But I didn’t know how to tell her that, of course. I was only six, so I banged my fist weakly against her chest. ‘Sam, Momma. His name is Sam.’

Mom gave me a sad smile, and kissed the top of my head. ‘Sorry, honey. It was just a dream. There’s no such thing as monsters –“ I’m interrupted by a low chuckle, and I frown at my captor, who has seated himself at the bottom of my chair, with his feet crossed, and his head in his hands as if I’m reading him a fairytale.

“Nothing,” he smirks, and nods for me to continue again.

“Uh-huh. Well, Mom told me to go back to sleep. She said that nothing could hurt me in my bed. Then she tucked my blanket tight, but there was something about her face that made me suspicious. Like she wasn’t telling me the truth. But then again, Mom always said I wasn’t a very trusting child, so I archived the feeling in the back of my mind where all the other weird ideas I had would eventually end up; like ghosts were real and that werewolves really looked like ordinary people. Oh, the look on Mom and Dad’s faces when I told them. Of course they knew better. There’s no such thing as ghosts – the only monsters out there are…” You, I want to say, but I’m not sure how he’ll react to that, so I sniff, and cough.

“May I please have a glass of water?” I ask, my mouth so dry it hurts to smack my tongue.

“No,” he simply replies, and straightens his back.

Right. My story. Pri one, obviously. “Some dreams are vague like feelings or memories of colours swirling over a blank canvas, or emotions etched into my mind for forever, but without context or a story.

Others, uh, others I remember as if… as if they happened just minutes ago, like those piercing, yellow eyes. So cold, so… evil. I never really saw who they belonged to, but they frightened me so much Mom and Dad thought about sending me to a professional. I wonder what would’ve happened if they did. Those eyes still haunt me sometimes. Sometimes I even feel I can see them when I’m awake… But in the middle of them all stands Sam, like a pulsing beacon of light and safety. Even though his face is blank in my dreams, I always knew it was him, you know?”

He fidgets and shifts on the floor, looking uneasy, but he quickly hides his emotions behind a stern façade. “Tell me about the dreams about Sam.”

“Hum, okay. In those dreams he was there, sometimes almost as we were the same person, or sometimes we would meet and do stuff together. It never, uh, never struck me as weird when I was little, that I never saw his face. It felt natural, and those times I saw others, it was like watching them through a filter, or maybe through his eyes even.

Dean appeared often. His brother. Sometimes like a knight or a caped hero,” I smile from the memory of the tough looking kid in a Batman cowl and the cape flowing behind him as he ran through the streets. “He… uh, would swoop in to save us when we’d gotten lost. Flowers sprouted and blossomed where he walked, and wherever he went darkness cowered. I always liked Dean. He made Sam happy.

Sometimes older people appeared too. At least when I was younger. A man named Dad felt strong and safe, but sometimes he felt distant and sad. Those dreams always made me cry with the heartache Sam tried to hide away.

There was another man too. A gruff, but kind looking old man. Sam called him Uncle Bobby.” There comes a low growl from the floor, but I ignore it. “His hugs scratched my chin, but they were bigger and better than I’d ever known before. Sometimes Uncle Bobby was Uncle Dad. Those were not happy dreams. Well, the dreams were. Usually filled with fun stuff like soccer or baseball and ice cream, but they were almost always immediately followed by a pang of inexplicable guilt and embarrassment before I was rudely ejected from the dream.

Those nights I used to gather all my stuffed toys in my bed with me and place them meticulously around me so they’d know I loved them all equally. That wasn’t entirely true, though. My stuffed gorilla, Hannibal, was my favourite, but I would never admit it out loud so my toys could hear it. But Hannibal always slept in my arms. He knew all my secrets. Like when Dad left with another man when I was seven, and uh…” I let out an uncertain laugh. I hadn’t meant to tell him that. But it’s like I can’t stop myself from it.

“Anyway. When I was nine, I remember the dream so vividly… I was in this, this meadow, I think. So unfamiliar, I’d never been there before, but at the same time I knew exactly where I was, and that there was something important there. Everything was so distracting. The colours were so vibrant I was pretty sure I could touch them if I tried; the air buzzed with excitement, and all around me birds chirped and danced over the tree tops.

Next to me flowed a small brook, and the bubbling reminded me of laughing babies. I followed it. Nothing bad could happen if I just followed the brook, right? Just as I skipped over a rock to cross the water, a shadow flitted across the corner of my eyes, but when I turned, all I could see was a bright green fern stretching to lick the sun.

The water ran upstream, it seemed, but I didn’t think much of it. It was as it should. Eventually I got to a waterfall that flowed upwards, but I was too preoccupied with the table laid out with every candy I could possibly imagine – and quite a bit more, I believe. Sam was there too, and another man I couldn’t really see. They were laughing. I’d never seen him that happy before.

When I approached, Sam got up and hugged me. I was so surprised I totally lost the ability to speak. He introduced me to his friend, I-I’ve forgotten his name, but he was so proud of Sam, and he told me that I was good for looking out for him. Then we gorged ourselves on candy and marshmallows and junk food, and watched cartoons and played Twister.

When I told Mom about the dream, she ruffled my hair and smiled, but under her breath she muttered: ‘That poor boy. He must be feverish –‘ But to me she said: ‘It was only a dream, honey.’

You know… I nodded, pretending I hadn’t heard her, but that’s when I understood: she believed me, even though she didn’t tell me the whole truth. I decided to ask the wisest person I knew the next day: my best friend at school, Lou. He was a year older than me, and he knew everything there was to know about everything worth knowing.” I exhale through my nose and shake my head. The picture of Lou in the schoolyard is almost absurd. And it was so long ago. How young we were.

“Lou folded his hands in his lap and looked at me with the air of a benevolent ruler who’s just about to educate his favourite subject on a very serious matter.

‘You have a soulmate,’ he said matter-of-factly. Several of the onlookers gasped. Some sniggered.

‘Nuh-huh!’ Tilly from science protested. ‘My Mom says there’s no such thing.’ We could practically hear her roll her eyes.

‘Then your Mom is wrong,’ Lou countered, and I huffed in agreement. He’d clearly won the point, even though I didn’t really know what he was talking about. ‘Just because she hasn’t got one, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!’

‘You know those are just stories, right?’ Maggie chimed in. She was in Lou’s year, and pretty much ruled the school. She cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“Yeah, no, I’m telling you it’s real.” I was desperate for Lou to be right; I never liked Maggie, and besides nothing would ever convince me that my dreams were just dreams.

“Well, my mom says that it’s just a fairy-tale Nana used to tell to make us go to bed without arguing.”

Lou got to his feet and crossed his arms too. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maggie shrank back a bit, because he was like a head taller than her, and probably weighed twice as much, but it only took a second or two for her to bounce back, with Tilly in tow.

I don’t remember what Tilly said, but I do remember throwing a few punches. It’s a miracle we didn’t all get suspended. Got detention, though. And it felt so unfair. Because Tilly deserved everything she got. She was a despicable… Anyway. I went home and asked Mom. Mostly because I was sure the teacher was going to tell her what the fight was about anyway, so I figured I’d beat her to it.

The answer I got wasn’t what I expected. I think I thought she was going to deny it and tell me my mind was running away with me again, and that Lou shouldn’t have lied like that. But she sat me down and ran a hand through her hair. ‘It’s a controversial topic,’ she began, ‘and many believe it’s untrue, or that it’s a threat to free will. It’s a rare condition. That’s why we don’t talk about it. But wouldn’t it be wonderful to know someone out there is made for you?’

‘Like you and Dad?’ I asked, rubbing the bruise on my forehead.

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. ‘Honey, I… your father and I kept it quiet because… well, you see, your father and I weren’t – I never had the dreams, though he did. We worked hard to make it… work, and we never thought that… because we, uh, sorta thought it would… uh, that it would…’ She obviously struggled to speak about it. In hindsight I realise that it hurt her greatly, but back then I was just a stubborn brat with insensitive questions.

Trying her best to swallow the lump in her throat so that I didn’t see, she coughed, and moved the cushion half an inch to the right, then back again. ‘It seems silly now,’ she continued after a while. ‘Thinking his soulmate would appear just from us talking about it… As if we could keep him away just by keeping quiet,’ she added with a huff, more to herself than me. “Anyway… those dreams… yes. Sam’s your soulmate, but I can’t tell you when – if – you’ll meet him. Nature is, I wouldn’t exactly call it evil, maybe more tricky. And there hasn’t been much research on the subject, since it’s pretty rare to begin with, and… well, since it’s about love and all. But I think I read somewhere that it’s most likely hereditary. There was a research paper published, I think about twenty years ago, that claimed that only males carry the gene, but I’m not sure. I don’t know.’ Her voice was soft and airy, more vulnerable than I expected a Mother to be.

Mom always did that when she was sad: spoke to me like I was a grown-up, and I always nodded and practised my “understanding” face, but truth be told I didn’t understand half of what she said.

What I did understand, though, was that Sam, the boy I’d been dreaming about my whole life was real, and that one day I might meet him. That thought made me giddy and warm inside, and I couldn’t wait for us to play together. I was only nine, mind you. Uh… May I please have a glass of water?” My voice crack, and he slowly gets to his feet. I use the few seconds alone to wiggle the rope a little further.

When he gets back he watches me with… almost fearful eyes, and he gently helps me to drink. The water is cold and refreshing, and I gulp it down greedily. He wipes my chin, and then sits back down. “Now continue.”

“Right.” I want to ask him why, but I don’t think it’ll do me any good. “The years passed, and I no longer wanted to play with Sam. Somewhere deep in my brain the seed that had been planted when I was born began to grow and bloom.

Mom never mentioned anything about soulmates again, and I quickly learned not to bring it up at school unless I wanted to be ridiculed and laughed at. But the dreams continued.

When I was thirteen, and just starting to figure out my feelings and getting confused with more of them, I had this dream that really stuck with me for a long time. I think it was in September, and I remember I struggled with school a bit at that time. Anyway. In this dream, Sam and me, we were at a museum.

I wasn’t entirely sure how we got there, nor did I know exactly where we were, but I also did know that we were in San Francisco, and this was the gigantic Prehistory Museum that obviously had to be there, since that was where we were. Which is funny, because I’ve never been to San Francisco. Incidentally this was when I learned how to pronounce pterodactyl, heh…”

He gives me a dark look, and I hurry to continue my story.

“This museum, it was, I don’t know, round-ish… the huge cylindrical core was made up of glass, the hundreds of windows gave us glimpses of the exhibitions inside, and we strolled down along the walkway that wound itself around it like a giant vine. It felt like walking through a rainforest – everything was so green and lush.

Each floor was home to a new exhibition, and even though quite a few of them looked interesting – I never really got over my dinosaur phase – we didn’t feel like leaving our jungle path. The rooms were too crowded, or too loud, or both, and we just wanted to be together.

Once we stopped by a souvenir cart, and Sam bought me a miniature model of an ichthyosaur skeleton, and I bought him a lollipop in all the colours of the rainbow, because that was what he wanted more than anything.

We didn’t say much, for what felt like forever. Occasionally Sam would stop and point at something new or unusual, and sometimes we’d get distracted by a sound or the sight of traffic outside, but it only took seconds and then we were back together again on the neverending carpeted spiral.

At one point, Sam’s hand brushed mine, and we both jumped. He coughed and hummed, I blushed like I’d never touched another human being before, and then we both looked away. It was the best feeling in the world: my heart hammered, I was on the verge of throwing up, yet I was floating just a couple of inches above the ground, because I knew what was coming.

A wave of courage hit me, and I reached for Sam’s hand just as he reached for mine. The moment we touched the world went darker, as if the sun suddenly went down, but then thousands of tiny lights blinked all around us. One of the lights landed on my nose, and I squinted to look at the firefly. When I looked up again, Sam was closer than he was before. I’m pretty sure there were fireworks too. Wind lifted my hair, and I closed my eyes and leaned in – only to be interrupted by a loud screech from the velociraptor exhibit. We turned our backs to it, but the sound continued, so I opened my eyes and cursed loudly. I was back in my bed, the alarm clock shrieked at me, and I had two hours of history and maths waiting for me.

I think that dream lingers because most of the others were so dark and scary. I can’t tell whose dream is who’s anymore, but I remember dreaming a lot about those yellow eyes. Especially in combination with black smoke and a smell that stung my nose. And sometimes I would comfort Sam, or he would comfort me, and I would wake up with tears in my eyes. I guess it was because our minds were getting used to each other. I dunno.

There were a lot of monsters. But sometimes, sometimes… I recognise the dream as fully mine.” I close my eyes and dip further into the memory. “I don’t know why I was crying. Maybe it was just that time of the month, maybe something horrible had happened that I couldn’t remember, or maybe I was just exhausted from Mom’s constant talk about college. The applications were written, but I didn’t know where I wanted to go – or even what I wanted to do. At any rate the tears wouldn’t stop falling, and soon I sat in a big puddle of water that rose higher with every plop. Kinda like Alice in Wonderland. Heh… that was one of my favourite books when I was little.” I open my eyes and sigh. I feel like crying now. But I guess it won’t do me any good.

With another sigh, I continue; “Suddenly an arm snaked around my shoulder, and Sam’s head leaned against mine. ‘I’m here.’ No questions, no fussing. He knew what I needed: company and silence. I didn’t even have to say thank you, but I tried anyway.

My voice was too raw, no sound would come, but Sam nodded and pulled me closer. ‘Any time,’ he said, and that was it.

We sat for a while, watching the world scuttle past. Piles of baked goods appeared and disappeared again. A small monkey walked on ropes between two dumpsters. In the shadows I’m pretty sure I saw Ross Geller hunt for rats, but I didn’t say anything because it looked like he didn’t want to be disturbed.

Breathing out, I noticed my cheeks were dry: all that was left of my tears was a dull aching in my temples.

The clouds shifted, and we sat inside a rainbow, floating high above the grassy fields I recognised from that school trip in fourth grade when André and Lionel scared half the class by finding a huge slug and running after all the girls with the poor creature dangling from their hands.

‘It’s a nice memory,’ Sam said after a while.

‘Yes. It is,’ I replied, not knowing what else to say. I turned towards him to ask about his school trips, but he was gone. His warmth and scent lingered, but the place he’d been sitting in was empty. I missed him.

That was the last time I saw him for a long while. I guess I was busy with school, and I don’t remember dreaming much at all. Got a boyfriend, though it didn’t last long, because he found out about Sam. Read it in my diary, I guess. Wasn’t too upset to see him leave. He wasn’t too interesting anyway.

But when I was… around twenty, I had another dream. As I drifted off to sleep I felt the fabric of reality stretch around me, and I let it, knowing it would soon settle again. I wasn’t afraid.” Not like now, I almost add, but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to show that… that creep… that I’m scared of him.

“The darkness faded and revealed a rolling meadow filled with all the flowers I’d ever heard of. And probably a few I hadn’t. I immediately recognised the place: it was my safe space. My Ghibli meadow. I’d watched “Spirited Away” with a reverence bordering a religious experience not long before. Nothing could hurt me here.

The sound of the summer breeze harmonised with the birds as the familiar sounds and smells brought me home. Finally I could breathe.

Soon it became clear to me that I wasn’t alone as I expected, and I looked around with my heart pounding in my chest. The colours paled and the shadows lengthened – and then I spotted him: standing a little way away, looking curious and almost shy for intruding.

My heart slowed as I realised who it was, and I smiled and beckoned him over. ‘Hey, Sam,’ I whispered as he came closer, knowing he could hear me. Around us the colours grew stronger again, and warmer, and the sun rose higher in the sky.

Now, I didn’t know much about Sam, I still don’t, but I knew he had a troubled soul. It wasn’t hard to see. Hell, I didn’t even know his face, but I knew he was tall, and I knew that he was beautiful, both inside and out. Even here I had to bend my neck back to look up at him.

‘Hey,’ he said, giving me chills from the big grin in his voice.

‘Haven’t seen you around in a while,’ I replied, hoping he’d detect the longing in my voice.

He looked away into the distance. ‘I know. Things have been… busy. So this is… this is you, huh?’ I thought I could detect guilt in his voice, but I was never good with people, so I didn’t say anything. Instead I focused on the curiosity in his mind, and how warm it made me feel. The flowers around us rustled proudly.

‘This is me.’ I let out my arms and spun around on the spot, almost stumbling over an overgrown bush of berries.

Sam smiled. I could feel it in the sunshine. ‘This is…’ He paused. ‘Nice. It’s nice.’

It was so good to see him again, to be with him. We walked for a while, talking about nothing and everything. He picked a flower and placed it behind my ear, and I blushed furiously.

I desperately wanted to kiss him, but he held back on me. I didn’t understand why, because I saw the same connection we’d always had, but I figured he had his reasons, so…

Well, after we passed the small cabin where I used to go to sort my thoughts, another woman joined us. Um, not joined as such. She wasn’t really there, more of a fleeting ghost or projection of a thought. I’d never seen her before, but her name was clear in Sam’s mind. Jessica. He called her Jess.  And she called to him, and… Sam just… he faded. I…” The memory still stings in my chest. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. I swallow and blink to stop my tears. He dabs my eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, and stretches. He yawns, and then his stomach growls.

“Go on,” he murmurs. “I wanna hear the rest of it, before…” he trails off, leaving me confused. What has he planned?

“I hated that woman for ages. She appeared in almost every dream we shared. She stole my Sam. But… I knew she made him happy, so somewhere, deep inside – I would never have admitted it then – I was grateful. Dean had… Dean had all but disappeared from Sam’s dreams, and when he did pop up it was usually to argue. At least Jess kept him company. And his dreams were… nice. No monsters, no darkness. But my dreams changed too. They lost their colours. They felt colder too. Once, Sam asked me about it. He said he’d noticed, but I turned away and didn’t answer him.

For a while I dreaded going to sleep. I didn’t want to see her again. Didn’t want to carry that feeling of, of betrayal. I wasn’t… angry… at Sam. I was disappointed, sure, but I didn’t own him. No, I was pissed at the universe for punching me in the gut like that.

Then suddenly, the dark dreams returned. The fire too. It was stronger, burned hotter. I could see the outline of a woman in the flames. Her face was contorted in pain, and her blood trickled down the walls.” I shudder. It had dawned on me one morning, after watching her maimed, burning body, that the woman was Jessica, and that she probably was dead in a fire. My heart had bled for Sam that day. Still does.

“I can barely talk about this. Please. I gotta… I gotta…” I lean back and rest my head on the back of the chair. “It was bad, okay? I don’t know what happened to Sam. He was so happy, and then almost nothing but demons and blood and monsters under the bed. And the torture. Oh god, the torture. I could almost feel how Sam’s limbs were ripped apart and put together again. They plucked out his eyeballs over and over. Cut him, bled him dry… I feel like throwing up just by thinking about it. The images are seared into my brain, and I wish to god they weren’t!

In the beginning, I tried to reach out to him, and occasionally he’d welcome my light, as he put it. He said I made the suffering bearable, but as time went on, he stopped responding to me. And then… nothing. Nothing at all, for a whole year!” My voice breaks and my heart with it.

“It was nothing like before when I didn’t dream about him. Then I’d sorta sense him; know he was there, doing his thing, you know? But now? It was as if he didn’t exist. That was the longest year of my life. What if something happened to him? What if he died?”

He laughs as if the thought amuses him, and I suppress the urge to spit in his face. Yeah, there’s no such thing as monsters, but he’s one alright! Twisted and vile. And there’s no one here to stop him. And if I get my hands free? What can I hope to do?

“My heart longed for Sam, but after so long without anything, I started thinking I’d made it all up. Yeah. I’m an idiot. I should’ve -- But I… I started to come to terms with the thought that maybe he was… The whole romance thing, the idea of soulmates – what kind of nonsense… I mean, not everybody has one, right? But I started questioning it: like what made a soulmate a soulmate and not just two people that were so very in love?

Sure, you have the dream thing, but they say we only dream about people we already know or have seen, so it might as well be a dream about that plumber you saw that one time you went with your mom to work. But then there were the thing with the faces… yeah… I didn’t really believe my own doubts, but I worked so hard on pretending I did, that I forgot. So when the dreams returned, I almost spooked myself awake.

Yeah, the dreams came back. Just as suddenly as they’d stopped. And it was worse than any horror film. They hurt, physically and mentally. Like someone pressed a hot nail into my brain. There was light flashing in front of my eyes, and sometimes it was pitch black, and we could hear something scuttling past just outside our reach.

I remember squeezing Sam’s hand once, and he yelped as if it hurt him. It was all dark around us, and there was not a sound except for the soft pitter-patter of rain on the lawn – no, that wasn’t it.  That was the sound of footsteps. Naked feet slapping silently against concrete floors. I grabbed Sam’s other hand. He was totally calm, but he squeezed my hand in a quiet gesture of safety.  Whatever this creature was, he wasn’t afraid of it. But Something was coming, and Something was going to bring Sam to his knees. I just knew it.

And when it came… oh jeez… ‘You’re a freak, Sammy. A monster. You should’ve died!’ Just the voice was enough to make Sam crumple to the ground. Dean appeared in a haze, his face distorted, but I could see the disappointment still. But it wasn’t him. I knew Dean. He loved his brother – deeply. He would never. NEVER. Say something to hurt him. But Sam never saw this false image. He cowered on the floor, his face buried in his knees and his arms around his head. He was… was rocking back and forth, and I know he was crying. I could feel it. And every word from Dean cut him open.

There wasn’t much I could do. He wouldn’t acknowledge me anymore, but I stroked his hair and told him he was perfect, and he flinched away from me. I told him to not listen to the creature that had taken his brother’s face, but I think he closed his mind to me.

I felt him crumble. I stumbled over his frail form in the darkness, terrified and frozen.

I kinda didn’t recognise him. Sure, he had the same silhouette, and the same homely smell surrounded us, but it was as if he didn’t see me. No: he ignored me on purpose, flinching away when I got too close.

‘Sam,’ I said, trying to keep desperation from my voice. ‘It’s me.’

The only response I got was a low hum, and him leaning away slowly.

‘Hey,’ I tried, softer this time. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you.’ Why he would be scared of me was a mystery, but the claustrophobic weight of panic descended on us. I could hardly breathe.

‘You’re not real,’ he whispered hoarsely, and I wondered if he’d been screaming. Maybe he was hurt – or ill. He did rub his hand as if it was painful.

‘Are you hurt?’ I asked, reaching for his hand, but he snatched it out of my reach.

‘Not real.’

‘I am real,’ I countered. ‘But this is a dream, so…’ I cut myself off. I wasn’t making it any better. Suddenly Sam started to fade from me. I caught a glimpse of what looked like charred wings before I was engulfed in freezing flames. I woke up panting hard and still feeling the cold spreading over my skin. My heart was dancing in my chest, and high-pitched ringing filled my ears.

It’s hard to separate one dream from another. They continued for a long time. Nothing but fear and confusion, and sometimes cold fury. He was hunkered down in a corner, trying to hide from something. Despair and anger radiated from the shivering pile, but it was so dark I couldn’t see him properly. Still, I knew it was him. The familiar feeling of a tether drew me to him. ‘Sam?’ I asked, as quietly and gently as I could, just as I always did.

His head snapped up, confused by the new presence, but he recognised me too. I think. ‘Who are you?’

Once again he broke my heart. ‘It’s me; Y/N.’ We’d been through this a thousand times, and I didn’t understand how I hadn’t just given up yet. But the bond between us was so strong I don’t think I could have, even if I tried.

‘You’re not real,’ he replied. ‘You’re created to make me… to punish me for…’ He was suddenly on his feet, and I could see he was falling apart. His clothes were torn, and the rags were swaying in a wind that wasn’t there. He had burn marks on his arms, and his face was gaunt and grey.

‘Get away from me!’ There was so much pain in his voice I almost started crying. His words punched me in the stomach, and for a second it was so, so hard to breathe. I felt ill. Frost rose from his mouth, and darkness swirled around us again. Howling winds brought a cold that froze our bones, and I just couldn’t seem to warm up despite the fact that there was a fire burning in front of us.

‘Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,’ a mocking voice sneered. ‘She’s just as real as I am.’

Sam fell to his knees again and started muttering. ‘Go away, go away, go away…’

So yeah… that was a fun time. But I think he got better. He doesn’t avoid me any more. The monsters are still there, but Sam’s stronger now. Still sad, still haunted, but he’s almost back to his normal self. Back to his kind, caring self. I… I have this dog I dream about sometimes, and when they meet, Dog really lights up, and Sam can spend hours playing with him. But I’m…” I look away. The past is hard, yeah, but it’s the past.  Knowing what comes next is… I’m getting desperate. “I’ve tried to ask him where he is. If we can meet, but I never remember his answer when I wake up. And.. I-I think I might never meet him in reality, you know? So when I saw that bar in his dream, and I actually remembered and knew where it was, I…” I give him a flat look. “Yeah. I’m starting to think that was a mistake.”

He’s not gonna let me go. I can see it in his eyes. And now that my story is finished, well… I might not take him out, but at least I can leave a few scratches on his face: I’ve almost managed to work my hands free. Just a few more minutes…

It’s difficult to decipher the look on his face. Fear? Nah, that can’t be it. Pity, maybe. “Aw,” he says after a short pause. “That’s a nice story. I’ll make sure to tell him if I ever run into Sammy-boy. Hell, it almost made me feel for you. But,” he continues with a creepy smile that doesn’t reach his eyes at all, “I’m still gonna eat’cha!”

What??? His statement takes a moment to reach my brain, I mean, really reach my brain, and in that short time a second, pointy, set of teeth has descended over his normal ones, except that is impossible and I definitely need to get my head checked.

I blink, and he’s moved to my throat – what the hell? Does this dude think he’s a vampire or something? Ow! That really hurts! I think I’m bleeding, and… Suddenly he flinches, and he looks up at me with hungry eyes and a wicked grin. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says and there’s blood dribbling down from the corner of his mouth. I giggle. He’s a messy eater – I think I’m gonna throw up, or faint, or… yeah, fainting sounds good right now, and I can sorta feel the floor crash into my head as I topple off the chair, but I really don’t care. I just wanna rest. This has been a crazy day!

When I come to, I’m lying on my back and there’s someone standing over me, pressing something to my neck. I don’t think it’s the same guy.

“Hey, hey… there you go. Wake up. Can you do that for me? Open your eyes?”

His voice is pleasant and feels kinda familiar, but I can’t place it, and I’m too tired to ask. But I do as he tells me, because I want to make him happy; blink a couple of times and shake my head – ow, that hurts!

“Careful. You’ve lost a bit of blood, and you hit your head pretty hard. But you were lucky. That sonofabitch didn’t have time to make a proper incision, so he only drank a little…”

What the hell is he talking about? Oh. Yeah. Crazyboy. The one I thought were going to show me a good time, but instead tried to… eat me. Excellent. I groan and scoot up so the pain in my back goes away.

The skin is raw where the rope cut into me, and I rub it gently, whining from the pain. Nimble hands put a bandage over the cut on my neck, and I try to stretch a bit.

“Sit still, please. I gotta see your hands too.” His fingers brush gently over the bruises, and he wraps a strip of fabric around my wrist. To protect me from infection, I guess, but I get a sudden flash of being tied down, and throw my hands up. I don’t know, maybe I hope to punch him in the nose or something.

He backs away and holds up his own hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Looking up at my saviour through shielding hands, I see kindness in his eyes. He is oddly familiar, and though I think I’m supposed to be terrified, and I am, I feel unusually calm and collected.

Then I spot the other guy over his shoulder and the world grounds to a halt. Looking from one to another, back and forth, my mind spins so fast I get dizzy. Could this be real? I know I’m not dreaming... but… Standing in the doorway with a goddamn machete swung nonchalantly over his shoulder, is Dean. Dean from my dreams. Brother of…

“Sam?” I whisper, scared that he’ll disappear once I’ve said his name out loud.

He looks at me, the confusion evident in his face – that face I’ve never seen before this moment, but that I’ve loved with all of my heart. His brows knit together, and his lips part slightly – my god, those lips… and he kneels beside me. The cogs in his brain turn furiously. I can see it. Then he lights up. “Y/N?”

“What, Y/N? Like Y/N?” Dean drops the machete and hurries over.

Unable to keep a smile from my face, I nod and roll onto my knees. Before I can stack my feet under me, Sam takes my hand and pulls me up.

“Y/N…” he repeats almost inaudibly. “I half thought you didn’t exist at all.”

Sam smiles at me and my heart soar. It’s like coming home after a long and gruelling hike in the woods. I can relax. And breathe.

I lean closer and Sam follows suit. The moment our foreheads touch, I swear angels sing – even if it sounds tacky!

“This is so weird,” Sam whispers, sending shivers through my whole body. “We just met, but I’ve known you since… always…”

Just as I’m about to answer with something really cheesy, Dean appears in the corner of my eye. “Oooh! Are you gonna kiss now?”

Sam’s face contorts into an expression only ever seen on fed-up little brothers, but I grin widely and reply: “Bitch, we might.”

My lovely tag crew:

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[jessielightyear]

Hopes, Dreams, and Future Schemes: Chapter Three

Read Chapter One here Read Chapter Two here Read on AO3 here

Meg is running out of time and so is the universe. The stakes have never been higher. 

Chapter Three 

           Batman exhaled when he heard footsteps land on the roof. As they moved toward him, he stood up to face the visitor.           “You’re supposed to be the real Batman, I mean the first one. I’ve seen history cubes about you.” His gray arm rotated into a buzz saw appendage. “Hard to believe someone stupid as you ever beat the Joker.”

           “Maybe I’m smarter than I look.” Ghoul rushed toward Batman, buzz saw raised high. The power tool gave Static and easy target and Ghoul was quickly brought down by the electric shock. By the time Ghoul recovered, Green Lantern, Warhawk, and Static had all landed. Terry stepped out from behind the rooftop door.

           “You’ve got some information we need Ghoul.” The younger Batman said.

           “You won’t find me the talkative sort.” Terry grabbed Ghoul by the leg.

           “Where’s Chronos, my arm’s getting tired.” Bruce’s voice cut into Batman’s comm.

           “The boy’s too green for this.” The old man cut in. Batman stayed silence and watched as Terry dropped his arm, trying to scare Ghoul into talking with the fake fall. “You know the best way to get answers from him.” Batman continued to ignore him. Terry let go, but not before Warhawk moved into position to catch him and bring him back up to the roof. “It’s the only way to save the princess.” The mention of Diana made something in Batman’s mind snap. He went over and grabbed Ghoul by the collar of his shirt and threw him across the roof.

           “You two are far too green for this.” He turned to see Ghoul getting up on his hands and knees. “This is how you interrogate someone.”

           It took 37 seconds for Batman to convince Ghoul to be helpful. About 10 seconds less than Green Lantern would have guessed. Ghoul hadn’t stopped talking since then, spilling information about troop units and movements, command leaders, heists that were currently being planned everything. He finally reached information about Chronos, John’s ears perked up.

           “I don’t know where Chronos is. He contacts us. He spends every night in a different one of those buildings. There’s no way of knowing ahead of time where he’s going to be. And that’s everything I know.” Batman leaned in.

           “Everything?”

           “I wet my bed until I was 14.” John suppressed a chuckle.

           “Losing my patience.” Terry put his hand on the Dark Knight’s shoulder, pulling him back.

           “I can’t control him much longer. You better give us something we can use.”

           “Wow, Batman playing good cop.” Static muttered to John.

           “Everything’s relative.” John pointed out. Static smiled and put his hand on John’s shoulder.

           “It’s good to have you back.”

           “With any luck, we’ll fix this and I’ll still be around to whip your ass in line 50 years from now.”

           “Good luck with that Gramps.” John sighed, still trying to wrap his mind around having not only a son, but a grandkid too.

           “You two ready?” Terry asked. “We’ve got our location

          The green bubble carrying the League landed outside the Titanic, where Ghoul had told them they’d find Edith. Edith would lead them to David. The bubble faded and the heroes spread out.

           “What are you doing here?” Batman asked. A sigh came from near the door and a shadow stepped forward. Warhawk grinned.

           “Batman, Green Lantern meet Phoenix.”

           Phoenix was a warrior. Her armor was clearly inspired by her mother’s, but the coloring was entirely her father. A golden tiara sat on her forehead with a matching belt hanging on her waist. Her breastplate was black where Diana’s had been red with a large gold bird emblazoned on her chest. Black armor covered her arms with golden bracelets on her wrists. Black leggings covered her legs and she wore boots with a little heal like her mother had with black and gold coloring. She didn’t wear a mask, but she wore a black cape like her father. She wore a black choker with a gold stone in the center. Physically, she looked nothing like Meg. Phoenix had long blond hair and brown eyes. Her nose looked longer and she had a scar on her cheek. She was clearly a fearsome hero. She stood there strong and bold like a demon of justice, an angel of vengeance.

 She locked eyes with Batman. “I’m finishing the mission.” She said simply.

           “You should-” she snapped at him.

           “What? Go home. I need to be here.” She took a breath, centering herself. “I don’t remember her, but I remember she was brave and kind and that she would be here.”

           “Yes, she would be.” Batman answered. Phoenix gave him a small smile.

           “Then I should be here. I am a protector of Man’s world and my place is here.” Batman nodded.

           “How are you doing this?” He asked. She pointed to her necklace.

           “Blessed by the gods, it’s easier than trying to keep one of those domino masks on your face.” Terry stepped forward, standing next to her.

           “I’m assuming the old man caught you up on everything?” She nodded.

           “This is your lead. How are we doing this?”

           “Simple, get to his wife.” Phoenix smirked.

           “I can do that.”

           “Static, lay down some fireworks.” Terry said. Static took to the air and electrocuted the two guards who were standing out there. Each of them buzzed before toppling over.

           “We’ve got drones!” He announced.

           “Perfect.” Terry said. “Let’s take them out.” The attack on the perimeter had drawn the attention of other guards in the building, but the drones were no match for six members of the Justice League. It wasn’t long before they made it inside. The stream of droids coming from one of the hallways gave them a path to where Edith was staying. The League made it to a set of large double doors. Phoenix and Warhawk each stepped forward and punched the doors. The doors crumbled beneath their combined strength and showed the large bedroom. Green Lantern stepped into the room.

           “Edith Clinton.” Suddenly he shimmered and a brown hair man was left behind. “We’ve got business with your husband.” Everyone looked at him for a moment. “What?”

           “John?” Static asked.

           “Hal Jordan, another time shift. I’m up to speed, carry on.” Phoenix flew over to Warhawk.

           “Are you okay?” She asked quietly. He nodded.

           “Looks like my dad just got assigned somewhere else. I’m okay. Are you?”

           “Don’t ask.” She said. “The more I think about the fact I’m a paradox, the harder it is to stay solid.”

           “This is starting to give me a migraine.” Terry complained.

           “Oh boo hoo, you have a migraine. I have 23 chromosomes!” Pheonix shot back.

           “Why is it always a contest with you?”

           “Because I can always win.” She smirked.

           “You have a clear unfair advantage.”

           “Don’t get jealous Bats.”

           “Enough.” Batman said, silencing both of them. “We have bigger things to focus on than your bickering. This is going to get worse before it gets better. Anyone of us could change or even cease to exist.” Batman said.

           “That’s why you need to tell us where he is.” Hal said to Edith. “We just want to undo the harm he’s caused. You have my word. We’ll do everything in our power to keep from hurting him.” Phoenix scoffed.

           “Yeah you might.” Edith looked past Green Lantern to the woman in black.

           “Between you and me, I wouldn’t mind one bit if he got a little roughed up.” Phoenix grinned and move so she was sitting on the bed with Edith.

           “Then tell us where he is. I promise, we’ll make him answer for everything he’s done to you and your mother.”

           “How do you know about-”

           “He’s not very subtle.” Terry answered. Phoenix gave him a look to get him to back off.

           “Where is he tonight? The Parthenon, the sphinx?” Edith rolled her eyes.

           “He just wants everyone to think he moves around. He always sleeps in the same place.”

           “Then take us to him and I promise I’ll set him up for you to sucker punch that I know you want to give him.” Edith smirked and stood up from the bed.

           “Let’s go get him.”

           With Edith’s directions, the made their way to a large Roman colosseum. In the center was the Old West jailhouse they had first met David. When the bubble popped, Phoenix stepped toward the building.

           “Who’s taking lead?” She asked.

           “You got us here, it’s your call.” Terry said. She nodded.

           “Lantern, check for bobby traps.” The Green Lantern scanned the old building with his ring.

           “No booby traps.” He said, then he shimmered leaving behind John Steward. “At least none that my ring can detect.”

           “Make up your mind” Static said.

           “Sorry, we’re good to go Phoenix.” She nodded and scanned the building for all entry and exit points.

           “If we don’t beat this guy. It’s the end of everything.” Rex said.

           “We’ve been there before.” Terry countered.

           “Not like this. What are you supposed to do when you have the weight of the world on your shoulders?” On one side, his wife took his hand. On the other, his father put a hand on his shoulder.

           “Plant your feet.” The Green Lantern said.  The heroes stood there for a moment before Phoenix spoke up.

           “There’s one door and several windows he could use as entry and exit points. Not to mention the time belt itself. Bats, inside. Lantern, watch the sky. Static, watch the entry points and light him up if he comes out. Warhawk, watch Static’s back.”  Phoenix ordered. The heroes split up. Phoenix took the lead with a Batman on either side of her, flanking her. Edith followed behind the three of them.

           “How’s it feel to be back in the field?” Terry asked.

           “Ask me after this.” Phoenix muttered as they made their way to the back cells. She knelt down and picked the lock on the cell. The door swung open and they walked inside.

           “Why do you think he stays here?” Phoenix asked.

           “Because a loser with a kingdom is still just a loser!” Edith said, pushing her way through. She blanket off him to reveal the war lord asleep and sucking his thumb. The sudden change in light and noise woke him up.

           “What I…” Chronos jumped up, quickly taking in his surroundings. “Well well well” he said and opened a time portal. He jumped through and quickly closed it.

           “Nice going lady!” Terry said, pushing Edith back. The Bats ran out

           “Be advised, Chronos is going for backup.” Phoenix called out over comms. By the time the Bats had made it out, Chronos had returned with solders from several different time periods and the Jokerz gang. Static was nowhere to be seen, but Lantern and Warhawk were holding their own in the sky. Terry activated his suit and flew to the other side of the arena, toward a group of World War Two solders. Phoenix turned, standing back to back with Batman.

           Though he’d never fought with her, it was obvious he trained her. There was a bond, a connection. She moved left when he went right, she flew when he took the ground, she was a mirror to him. They fought as one unit, holding their own against the Jokerz Gang.  Terry was making his way back toward them when one of the DeeDee’s got her whip around Batman’s waist. DeeDee activated the whip and Terry’s screams were heard over the comms link.

           “Batman!” Phoenix flew over to him and took out one of the DeeDee’s but four others were attacking him. With their electric whips wrapped around his limbs, they pulled until the screaming stopped. The four women cackled until one of them was knocked out cold Phoenix.  

           With his partner gone, Batman was left to defend himself. He held his own against the simple solders until Bonk came up from behind him and slammed his hammer shapped fist into the Dark Knight’s back. Batman flew toward, catching himself on his hands and rolled out of the way of a second punch.  Bonk grabbed at the cape and Batman swept it away. With his left hand, Batman threw a smoke bomb at the clown. Bonk caught it and crushed it in his hand, causing smoke to go everywhere. He screamed and charged out of the cloud, grabbing Batman by the waist and tackling him to the ground.

           “You know, they used to say you were a demon… you’re just an old man playing dress up.” Bonk said. He grabbed the Dark Knight’s arm and started twisting it at the wrist. Batman groaned as the bones twisted out of shape. His free hand fumbled around the exposed part of his belt when suddenly the pale white face above him disappeared. Batman pushed himself up using his good wrist. Phoenix had knocked Bonk into a nearby wall.  

           “Are you alright?” Phoenix asked. Batman reached to one of the pockets in his belt. He pulled out a piece of a broken disk. Phoenix reached into her own belt and pulled out a second disk.

           “Daughter of the Bat” She handed it over to him. “End this. Bring her back.” Batman took the disk and nodded. Their eyes met; so much still to be said and so much not needed. The world around the was glowing as the evidence of time collapsing in on itself filled the sky. “There are three thing you need to remember.” Phoenix said before flying off to join Warhawk. Batman turned around and saw Chronos next to Edith.

           “You’ll love me next time!” Chronos cried out to his wife and opened another time portal.

           “Lantern!” Batman called out and pointed to the new time portal. John turned around and saw where Chronos was going. He scooped Batman up and the two of them flew in after him.

           “End this. Bring her back.” Echoed in Batman’s mind as the portal closed behind them.  

~*~ ~End of Chapter Three~ ~*~

[camsthisky]

Break Me Down and Build Me Up

< day 3 | day 5 >

This is day 4 of the 30 Day writing challenge, but it turned into a massive mess. It’s 7k+ and I might come back to it and clean it up a little later.

Prompts are listed here.

4. Write the worst possible way that your (BR)OTP could have met

Summary: What if Robin: Year One took place in the Young Justice world? A story how Robin and Kid Flash first meet. (This does differ a lot from the comic)

This wasn’t the worst possible way they could have met, so I didn’t quite fulfill the prompt. I had when i first wrote it, but four rewrites later and the story had changed quite a bit.

ao3 | ff.net

There was blood dripping into Dick’s eyes from his forehead, but all he could do was squeeze them shut. He couldn’t move his arms, couldn’t move his body. He hurt, he hurt so much that it was almost unbearable, but worst of all were the images. Two-Face bearing down on him with a baseball bat, Judge Watkins dropped to his death.

Dick just wanted to cry into Bruce’s arms and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

“Hang in there, Robin,” Bruce murmured, and Dick couldn’t help but cry out when someone lifted him up, his cape wrapped around him like a blanket. Bruce was carrying him, he realized, taking him away from this horrible place, from the man he’d just killed, from the man who’d almost killed him, and Dick’s breath hitched in his throat.

He didn’t deserve to have Bruce’s arms cradling him like this. He deserved to drown with the judge he’d just sentenced to die because he’d thought he could outsmart Two-Face, and he’d been wrong. He’d never been so wrong in his life.

“Stay with me, Dick,” Bruce demanded, and Dick felt it with every pain in his body as Bruce set him in the backseat of the Batmobile. “Just—keep breathing. Don’t die.”

Dick would keep breathing. For Bruce, if for no one else.

Dick woke up sobbing. Okay, so he wasn’t quite awake, awake, but he was coherent enough to realize that his whole body was on fire, the pain so fierce that he could barely breathe, and all he wanted, all he needed, was Bruce.

Where was Bruce?

“Here,” Bruce said, and when Dick opened his eyes, Bruce really was there, holding Dick’s hand with a death grip, sitting next to Dick’s bedside, and Dick sobbed harder—in relief this time. Thank God. Thank God. “I’m here, Dick. I’m right here.”

And that was enough.

The next time Dick woke up, it was with a bit more coherency. He was in his bedroom, he was alive, and Bruce wasn’t there. There was a muted pain humming just underneath his skin, and he thought he should probably be in more pain than he was in, at the moment. That question was answered when he turned his head slightly to the left and spotted the IV.

Pain killers. Of course.

Dick wondered if that meant Leslie had been by. Probably. Dick’s last memories of being awake were tinged with the red burning of indescribably pain that even a miracle butler couldn’t quench on his own. So, he couldn’t say for sure, but it definitely wouldn’t surprise him.

The door opened then, interrupting Dick’s attempt to figure his thoughts out, and Dick heard a few soft footsteps that could only be one person. Bruce paused when he saw that Dick was awake, and Dick tilted his head towards him—the furthest he could without making the pain sing in his veins, that is.

(It wasn’t very far.)

“Dick,” Bruce said, and his voice was thick with grief that Dick didn’t quite understand, because Bruce was the one who had told him to stay alive. He wasn’t dead, so Bruce shouldn’t look like that.

“Wha—?” Dick tried to ask, but he cut off in a hoarse cough. His throat was sore, swollen, and he couldn’t manage to get the words out. Bruce patiently helped him drink from a glass of water with a bendy straw in it. But when he was finished, when Dick opened his mouth to speak again, Bruce interrupted him.

“You shouldn’t speak,” Bruce said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Alfred had to intubate you.”

Oh.

He blinked, but his eyelids were heavier than normal when he tried, and he ended up with his eyes half-open. Bruce noticed, and he sent Dick a sad smile, tinged with bitterness and grief at the very edges, and Dick wished that he could stay awake, that he could talk so he could understand why Bruce looked like he’d just lost someone again.

“Go back to sleep, Dick,” Bruce told him, brushing his hair back. “I’ll be here when you wake up again.”

“—of all times to not pick up—oh. Hi.”

Wally peered over the top of the couch to where Uncle Barry was sitting at the dining room table. The TV was on mute, since Barry had told him he needed to make a “work” call. Yeah, Wally wasn’t stupid enough to believe Barry was calling anyone from the CCPD, especially since Barry was using a phone Wally had never seen before.

“I need your—wait. What? What happened?”

Wally wondered which superhero Barry was talking to, though, because his uncle looked super pale. Like he was about to pass out, and Wally didn’t like the look of it.

“Well, is he okay?” Barry asked the person on the phone. He paled even further at whatever answer he received, if that was even possible. “Hell. Do you know how long it’s going to take for him to recover, at least?” There was another pause, this one at least twice as long as the one before, and then Barry was speaking again. “Is there anything I can do? No, it’s not urgent. I just needed your computer to look up someone’s identity, is all. I’ll ask Clark, instead.”

Wally tuned out, not really interest in the rest of Barry’s conversation. He didn’t know who Clark was, and he didn’t know who was hurt, but Barry was going to put him on the backburner during runs if Wally interrupted another “work” call.

And if by the time Barry got off the phone Wally forgot to ask about it, well, that could all be put down to his stomach. He was curious, but he was also starving.

Bruce wasn’t there when Dick woke up again, even though he said he would be, and Dick had to push away the stab of betrayal, because he didn’t even know how long he’d been asleep. Maybe Bruce was in the bathroom, or eating dinner, or even patrol. Dick didn’t know the circumstances, and he wouldn’t think the worst of one of his most important people.

So Dick sat there for a few hours, waiting for Bruce to come back, but when the sun peeked through his curtains, Dick couldn’t take it anymore. He’d go find Bruce himself if he had to. There was no way he could sit there staring at the ceiling any longer.

He pushed himself into a sitting position slowly, careful not to jostle anything. His chest was completely swathed in bandages, his right arm was in a brace, his head was wrapped, and he felt like one big giant bruise. On top of that, Dick didn’t want to ruin whatever careful work Leslie and Alfred had done to save him. It was only when he was sitting up that he pulled the IV out with a slight wince, and then slowly started the process of getting out of bed.

It was just as he had stood upright that Dick’s door opened, and then a voice cried, “What are you doing?”

Dick blinked up at a pale Bruce, and sure, he was swaying a little, but he’d gotten to his feet with minimal damage, and it didn’t hurt that much. Dick was just about to tell that to Bruce, too, but the swaying turned into falling without his permission. Bruce dove forward, catching Dick just before he could fall forward and crack his head on his own bedroom floor.

“What the hell were you even thinking? “Bruce asked, and he sounded angry, just the barest undertones of worry in his voice. “You’re not in any shape to be out of bed, Dick!”

“I was fine,” Dick argued as Bruce tucked him back into bed, resolutely not telling Bruce that he’d only been up to find him. “Besides, I’ve been up for hours. It was just going to be a stroll around the bedroom.”

“Not until Leslie takes you off bedrest,” Bruce snapped.

Dick huffed, watching as, despite Bruce’s harsh word, he refitted the IV into the cannula as gently as possible. “I’m okay,” Dick said. “I promise.”

Bruce’s gaze snapped to his, his dark eyes glinting. “You’re not okay,” he growled. “Not even a week ago, you were lying downstairs in the Cave dying, Dick. You’ve been in a coma for days, and it’s only been two days since Leslie said that you were stable enough to move to your bedroom. That is not okay.”

Dick was taken aback. “But I will be okay. Just give me a few weeks and I’ll be swinging from buildings better than even before!”

“No, you won’t,” Bruce told him, a cold finality to his words that had Dick’s stomach sinking to his feet. “As long as I have something to do with it, you won’t be going out there again.”

Dick couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t draw in any oxygen, and his chest was so still that he feared that this was all some weird hallucination of death. To be tortured with his worst fears as he lay dying in the real world, because Bruce would never do that to him. He knew how much Robin meant to Dick, so he would never snatch it away.

“What are you saying?” Dick croaked out.

Bruce met his eyes, and Dick searched for some sort of sign that this was all some kind of sick joke—but no. Bruce looked nothing but cold as he broke Dick’s heart in half.

“Robin is finished,” Bruce told him, and Dick finally took a breath and proved that this was reality. He was alive, and this was really happening. Robin was being snatched from his very hands. “You’re fired.”

Dick didn’t speak again. He dropped his head, he gritted his teeth, and he cried silently. Bruce got up from his chair and left the room, left Dick, and Dick couldn’t understand why this was happening to him. First, he’d bargained Judge Watkins’ life and lost, then Two-Face had almost killed him, and now Bruce didn’t want Robin anymore, didn’t want him anymore?

How was any of that fair?! He’d already lost his parents, his home. He’d lost it already once, and now it felt like it was being taken away once again. One mistake. That was all it had taken, and now, Robin was finished.

Batman didn’t need him, and neither did Bruce.

“What?!” Barry yelled, startlingly Wally from his phone. From the other couch, even Iris looked bewildered, and they both looked over to the door Barry had just walked in, talking into his superhero phone. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why would you do that?!”

Wally met his aunt’s eyes worriedly, because Barry sounded really stressed, and not in a good way. It was the same tone he used when the whole planet was about to get blown up or something. Wally wondered, not for the first time, if he could go with.

Probably not. Barry had a list of things of things he was allowed to do as Kid Flash barring some emergency—the same one that Robin had used when he first started out, if a little modified to adjust for Wally’s powers.

“No,” Barry hissed, and was that venom in his voice. Just who was he talking to? “No. No way in hell. Go talk to him and apologize for being a fucking ass before you lose him. He’ll forgive you, even if he shouldn’t.”

Woah. Barry didn’t swear. Like, ever. And here he was, so angry that he was cursing into his phone. Over apologizing? Wally was definitely missing the context of this.

Barry sighed into the phone, the tension falling from his shoulders as he plopped on the couch next to Iris. Wally’s aunt moved her laptop to the coffee table and intertwined her fingers with Barry’s free hand, and all Wally could do was watch. He hadn’t realized how tired Barry looked before.

“Of course I think he’s going to run away!” Barry snapped suddenly, sitting up ramrod straight and glaring at the floor. “He’s an eleven year old boy, and you just shattered his whole world! God, push past your ego for two seconds and go tell him you’re—he hung up on me!”

Barry stared at the phone in disbelief, his eyes moving to meet Iris’ gaze.

“He just hung up on me!”

“I don’t know what’s going on, Barry,” Iris reminded him gently, “and I can’t help you unless you tell me.”

“Is everything okay?” Wally asked hesitantly. “I mean,” he tried again when Barry’s weary eyes settled on him, “that didn’t sound too good, but not it’s not, like, the end of the world, is it?”

Barry slumped back into the couch again. “It might as well be,” Barry sighed, “because Batman just lost his partner.”

Iris paled and Wally sucked in a sharp breath. “You don’t mean…?”

Barry’s eyes widened, and he seemed to realize that he’d just implied that Robin was dead, and he waved his hands frantically in an attempt to backtrack. “No, no. It’s not—I mean, it was a close call, but that was over a week ago, and he’s been stable for a few days now.”

“So what did you mean, then?” Iris asked, and she looked concerned.

Barry looked grim, and he didn’t meet anyone’s eyes when he said, “Batman fired Robin.”

“You’re kidding,” Wally said. Then a sudden fear swept over him, because—because— “You’re not going to me, right? Fire me, I mean?”

“No!” Barry said, standing up and running a hand down his face. “God, no. Wally, you’ve got to believe me. I didn’t force you into this. This was your own decision, and I know I could never force you out of it. It’s your choice.”

Wally let his shoulders slump in relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“So what does that mean for Robin?” Iris wondered, her eyebrows furrowing. “Batman just decided that he’s done, so he’s done?”

“It’s complicated,” Barry said. “Of course he’s not going to roll over and take this, but he can barely move right now, and from what I heard, Batman and Robin weren’t able to save a hostage during the last fight, either. He’s not in any shape to fight for his costume, right now, and the longer that Batman sits on this decision, the more stubborn he’s going to get.”

“You said Robin was going to run away,” Wally breathed, his eyes wide. “Will he?”

“Probably. When he can move.”

“So what do can we do?” Iris asked.

Barry looked defeated. “For now? Nothing.” And it looked like it physically pained him to say it.

Well, Wally supposed he would have to take Barry’s word for it, because short of going to Gotham and finding the two people that most people in the city they protect had never seen, Wally wasn’t sure what he could do.

So, he did nothing, and he hated how helpless it made him feel.

Finally, finally, Leslie approved Dick for physical therapy, and Dick put his heart and soul into it. He hadn’t quite pushed past that feeling of feeling like Bruce didn’t think he was good enough, but Dick had a plan now. He’d get fit enough to go out as Robin again, and he would go out.

He’d done it before. He’d struck out on his own while searching for Zucco, so why not now, when he was properly trained? He’d prove to Bruce—to Batman­—that he could handle being Robin, that it was a mistake to fire Robin.

In the meantime, though, he and Bruce were on pins and needles. Neither of them talked to each other, only Alfred, and Dick did his best not to be angry. Bruce just didn’t think Robin was good enough to be Batman’s partner, but Dick would show him.

It was a Thursday morning, just a week after Bruce had fired Robin, that Dick decided he couldn’t wait a minute longer. He was still a mess of bruises, and the brace wasn’t coming off anytime soon, but the sooner he got out of Bruce’s way and figured out what he was going to do, the sooner that he could prove his worth. He could already do a double-flip, after all. He was okay enough to do this.

So while Bruce was at work for an emergency meeting with Lucius, and Dick packed a bag, walked to the nearest zeta tube, and then he was gone, the only trace of him left behind a note to Bruce.

He could do this. He would prove himself.

Barry’s phone was ringing. It was the third time in the past ten minutes, and Barry was currently laid up in bed after a nasty encounter with a robber. Wally hesitated to answer it, though, because it was Barry’s “work” phone, and Wally wasn’t sure who’d be on the other line.

Whoever it was, they were persistent, and Wally wondered if there was something catastrophic going on. If that was the case, they had to know that Barry was too hurt to help them, and if they really needed a speedster, he would offer his services. He was pretty sure that this would count as one of those emergency times, and the list didn’t matter all that much.

He answered the call.

“Where is he?” a voice growled in his ear, and Wally froze, because that didn’t sound like a superhero at all. That was—Was that a villain? Had someone figured out how to contact the superhero cell phones? “Answer me! Where’s Robin?”

Oh. Oh. Wally let out a relieved breath, because he got it now.

“Uh, Batman?” Wally started, unsure how he was supposed to address the scariest hero in the Justice League. “Flash is hurt, so he can’t talk right now.”

There was a pause, and Wally waited nervously for Batman to start talking again. God, this was nerve wracking. From just the few words exchanged with the Dark Knight, Wally’s knees were starting to shake, and he couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Robin to work with Batman all the time.

“Kid Flash, I presume,” Batman said, a touch calmer than before. “Is Robin with you or the Flash?”

“Uh, not that I know of,” Wally sighed. “Can I ask why?”

“No,” Batman said, and then he hung up, apparently having gotten all the information he needed. Wally stared at the phone for a few minutes, and then gingerly set it down on the coffee table, because he could probably go a thousand years without hearing that growly voice and it’d still be too long.

“Thanks for that.”

“HOLY—” Wally jumped back and looked at the ceiling where there—holy shit. Robin was hanging from the ceiling like some kind of spider. There wasn’t even anything there. How was he even staying there?! Wally thought that Robin didn’t have any powers. “What the hell, man?”

Robin shot him a sheepish small and dropped down to the floor like a normal person—not that Wally was normal, but at least he didn’t hang from the ceiling like sort of ninja.

“Sorry,” Robin said, straightening up, and Wally realized that Robin looked really small. Didn’t Barry say that Robin was eleven? He looked more like nine or ten. Robin dropped down on the couch and sighed. “Man, that was a close call.”

Wally blinked. “What was?”

“The call.”

“Oh,” Wally said, realizing what Robin was talking about. “You’re—Batman’s looking for you.”

“I know,” Robin said, and he said it so easily, like he was so unaffected, that Wally was thrown for a loop. Because even running away, Wally didn’t think he would not feel anything if he heard that Barry was looking for him.

“What’s your problem?” Wally asked, feeling a little heated, because no one looked that apathetic about running away. They felt something.

Robin tilted his head towards him. “What do you mean?”

“Batman’s looking for you, and you’re acting like you don’t even care!”

“You don’t know me,” Robin told him, his voice calm but his fists clenched, and Wally took a step back, because now he got it. He got how someone like Robin was able to work with the terrifying Bat. He was just like him. “You don’t know anything about me, so how would you know if I cared or not.”

“Well you’re not showing it,” Wally argued.

“Doesn’t mean that I don’t feel it.” Robin relaxed suddenly. “So, the Flash is hurt?”

Wally huffed an annoyed breath. Robin was younger than him, and yet here he was, controlling the entire situation here, and Wally understood what Barry had been complaining about before. About Batman. This kid was kind of annoying, the way he took charge of the conversation, changing the subject like that.

Still, Wally didn’t know how to direct the conversation elsewhere, and he thought that maybe Robin would just go bother Barry if he didn’t get an answer from Wally, so he decided to take the easiest route.

“Yeah,” Wally told him, plopping down on the other couch. “He took a few bullets when he tried to move a group of people out of the way. He just got home like an hour ago.”

“Where were you?”

“At home,” Wally scowled. “It happened at work, so I wasn’t able to get there before he was already shot.”

Robin hummed contemplatively. “Sounds rough. So I guess you’re Kid Flash?”

“Yeah, so what?”

Robin smiled, but it was sort of empty, like he was forcing it on his face, and Wally couldn’t help but shiver. Maybe the ninja thing wasn’t the superpower. Maybe it was that creepy smile. It wouldn’t surprise Wally that just terrifying people was Robin and Batman’s power.

“Nothing, just happy that there’s another kid out there doing the crime fighting thing with me.”

Wally licked his lips. “Barry said that Batman fired you?” Wally asked more than said, and when Robin didn’t say anything, Wally kept going. “You don’t have to answer, but—why? You were the kid that inspired me and Speedy to even become superheroes. Why would Batman think it’s a good idea to fire someone like you?”

“I messed up,” Robin said quietly, and he wasn’t looking at Wally anymore. Or at least, Wally didn’t think he was. Hard to tell with that mask. “Judge Watkins was killed because of me, and Batman had to hurt himself to save me. He doesn’t think I’m good enough to be Robin.”

“So you ran away?” Wally asked, eyebrows furrowing, because this was the realest the kid had been since he’d ninja’d his way in. “What does that solve?”

Robin shrugged. “I was trying to prove to Batman that I could be Robin, with or without him, but I was hoping that I’d have a bit more time. It’s only been a couple of hours, and he’s already trying to track me.”

“Obviously he still cares about what happens to you,” Wally said. “So I don’t get why you don’t just sneak out of the house every night after he’s already gone out. Why run away?”

“I didn’t say he didn’t care about me,” Robin pointed out. He sent Wally a wry smile, like he was trying to laugh at something that used to be funny but tasted bitter at the edges. “As for sneaking out, you don’t know the security B has around the house. Batman’s super paranoid about everything. I’d never make it past the entrance to the Cave.”

“Oh,” Wally said, and he felt kind of sad for the kid. He had to run away in order to prove himself? That sucked. Batman sounded like a real tool. “Well, you can probably stay here for as long as you want. I know Iris won’t mind. Barry might, but he probably won’t even know you’re here until morning.”

“Why?”

“Oh, well speedsters have super fast metabolisms, so Barry’s on a lot of painkillers, right now. You could probably blow an airhorn in his ear and he won’t do much more than smile at you. I’ve tried it before.”

That startled a laugh out of Robin, and Wally smiled. The kid was kind of okay, when he wasn’t being a jerk. And as long as he didn’t put on that air of apathy, Wally didn’t mind hanging around him. Besides, being Batman’s partner had probably done something irreparable to his personality, so Wally didn’t think he should blame Robin too much.

“Well, Rob,” Wally said, clapping his hands. “What say you and I go upstairs and set up a sleeping bag for you?”

Robin, still smiling, stood up. “I’d like that. Thanks.”

“KF?” Wally asked him, standing at the stove with a blank look. The eggs were starting to burn, but Wally looked too out of it to care, so Dick didn’t bring attention to it. “Why KF?”

Dick shrugged. “Well, you gave me a nickname, and Kid Flash is a mouthful, so I shortened it.” Wally seemed to think about it for a second, and Dick supposed that he couldn’t let those eggs burn any more than they already were if he wanted anything edible for breakfast. “Kid Flash. The stove.”

Wally blinked. “The stove…? Oh! The stove!” He turned back around and switched off the gas, saving the eggs just in time. Wally grimaced down at the pan. “Well, I hope you like your eggs super crispy, because those were the only eggs we had in the fridge.”

Dick snickered. “I’m fine with whatever.”

Wally sent him a dark look. “I swear I can cook.”

“I believe you.”

“You don’t!”

“I do, too!” Dick said, grinning. “Just show me later.”

“Fine,” Wally grumbled. “But you’re not allowed to talk to me. You keep distracting me.”

“Who keeps distracting you?” Barry asked, looking not at all shot, and very coherent as he walked into the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose at the burnt eggs smell that permeated the room, and he rushed to open the window. “How the heck did you burn eggs?”

“With great skill,” Wally snapped. “They would have been fine if I hadn’t been distracted.”

Dick sniggered again, and Barry whirled around, catching sight of him sitting on top of the kitchen cabinets, ten feet up in the air. “It’s training,” Dick told him. “You know, multi-tasking. If you can talk and cook at the same time, you can do anything!”

Wally rolled his eyes, scraping the eggs onto two plates. “Yeah, yeah. You and your Bat-training.”

“Dick,” Barry breathed, and both Wally and Dick froze, because uh-oh. Dick was still in his Robin costume for a reason. And that reason had been that he had not told Wally anything about his secret identity. Of course, Barry’s speedster mouth had run ahead and gave Dick away before he could think about it. “Oh, shoot. Sorry, Robin. We’re usually in the Cave when…Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dick said, jumping to the floor and peeling off his mask, trying not to show how nervous he felt. “I trust you guys.”

Wally was staring at him, two plates of scrambled eggs in his hands. Dick sent Wally a wobbly smile, and Wally sent an equally shaky one back. Then he turned his back on the kitchen and walked into the dining room.

“We should eat breakfast,” Wally announced. “Like, now.”

Dick laughed a little, because who knew that Kid Flash could be so awkward? He followed Wally into the dining room, and settled down in the chair across from Wally. Barry followed him out, looking contrite, but he didn’t look too put out.

When their pretty silent breakfast was over—which Dick and Wally spent the majority making silly faces at each other—Dick followed Wally back upstairs to the guest room (Wally had been staying with Barry and Iris for the past few weeks, but Wally wouldn’t tell Dick why. Which was fine. Dick was already intruding majorly, and he didn’t want to pry into anything Wally didn’t want him to).

“I think I should change,” Dick said, turning to Wally’s closest to pull out the bag he’d hidden in the hamper—which had been empty when he’d put the bag into it, but Dick had just pulled a few clothes over it and it was completely hidden from view.

“When did you hide that?” Wally asked, sounding bewildered.

Robin winced. “Uh, after you fell asleep. I left in the garden before, but I didn’t want anyone to steal it and look through it.”

Wally made a “huh” sound, but he didn’t sound anything other than a little weirded out, so Dick took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom, change into his jeans and hoodie, and slip back out. Wally was changed, too, and they went back downstairs. Wally wasn’t giving his face weird looks anymore, so Dick assumed that Wally had moved on from learning his secret identity.

Either that, or he didn’t recognize Dick. Dick honestly didn’t care about which it was, though. It was just nice to have a friend—at least, he hoped Wally was a friend—his age that he could share his secrets with.

“Why did you do it?” Wally asked quietly a little while later. They were the only ones home right then, since both Iris and Barry had to work, and Wally couldn’t help but be curious about Robin’s life, about his roots. “Why did you become Robin?”

“I’m originally from the circus. An acrobat,” Robin said, and it sounded like he was choosing his words very carefully. “And it was my first show on the trapeze without a net, performing with my parents. This guy, Tony Zucco, was trying to blackmail the ringmaster, scam him, or something. Maybe he wanted money, maybe he wanted something else, I don’t know.”

Robin sounded so miserable remembering, and Wally immediately felt guilty about asking. “Hey,” he said. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. We’ve all got our origin stories.”

Robin smiled, and even though it was tinged with sadness, it looked real and genuine. “I like you, KF, and I really want to be your friend. I want to tell you. You’d be one of three people who know this story, and I trust you.”

Wally could nod. “Okay. I—I want to be your friend, too.”

“So, Zucco wanted money,” Robin said, and Wally listened intently as Robin recounted the story of how his parents fell to their deaths, of how Bruce Wayne saved him from rotting in a juvenile detention hall, of how he snuck out of the house to avenge his parents. “Batman found me before I could do anything I would regret,” Robin ended. “We caught him, and then we became partners.”

Wally was dumbfounded. “Wow. That’s a lot to take in. Batman is a lot different than the stories I’ve heard about him.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “Bruce can be a lot to handle sometimes, but he’s like a second father to me. We’re partners, you know? We know each other.”

“So why are you running?” Wally asked.

“What do you mean?” Robin asked. “I already said that—”

“I know what you said,” Wally told him. He leaned forward on the couch, eager to make Robin understand this. Maybe impart some wisdom that being two years old could give. “I mean, I’m a speedster. I know all about running. But it just sounds like you’re running from Batman more than you’re trying to prove you can be Robin. Why?”

Robin seemed to think about it, and they sat in silence for a long time. Wally could see the gears turning in Rob’s head, and he wasn’t eager to interrupt him.

“I don’t know,” Robin breathed after a while. “I just—I don’t know.”

He came at night, when Wally was softly snoring on the bed and Dick was just about to fall into a good sleep, even if he still sort of ached and he was sleeping on the floor. It was just a shadow in the window at first, plunging Wally’s room into darkness for a few moments, the streetlight blocked as the shadow search the room.

Dick froze, hardly daring to breathe. He was so glad he was on the other side of Wally’s bed, the furthest from the window. There was no way he could be seen from the window at this angle.

It was only when the light returned to the room that Dick pushed himself to his knees, his heart beating in his chest. It hadn’t even been two days, and he’d already found Dick? Was it a sure thing, or was he just guessing? Covering his bases before he started searching random alleys.

“Wally,” Dick hissed, and Wally’s snoring stuttered to a stop. “Wally!” Dick called again.

“Rob?” Wally murmured into the darkness, squinting over the side of the bed at him. “Wha’s going on?”

“He’s here!”

“Who’s here?”

“Batman!”

“Holy crap,” Wally breathed, sitting upright in his bed. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” Dick said, worried. “He was at the window a little bit ago, but it’s definitely him. I thought I’d be able to swing at least one more day here before he found me, but I think I was a little too naïve.”

Wally sighed. “Look, Rob,” he said, trying to sound all wise again, and Dick struggled to keep a straight face. “You said before you don’t know why you’re running away from him. Why not just face him and tell him you won’t take no for an answer? You chose to be Robin, so he can’t take it away.”

He thought that he’d been doing that by running away. Bruce hadn’t wanted a partner anymore, which was fine. Dick could handle that. He was smart enough to put two and two together, and Dick had messed up too big this time. He’d accidentally killed Judge Watkins, and Batman didn’t need a partner like him.

But Dick was Robin, and Bruce couldn’t take Robin away from him. By running away, Dick had thought he was going to prove it.

But Bruce didn’t just not want a partner, he didn’t want Dick to be Robin. He proved that by coming after Dick, and maybe Wally was right. Maybe Dick just needed to stick it to Bruce. The my way or the high way approach.

The door opened with a creak, and Dick stiffened, because there he was. Batman, hidden in the shadows, and Dick, who should have been used to after two years living with the man—who was used to it—squeaked in fright.

Bruce sighed—and Dick froze, because it was Bruce more than Batman that was standing in the doorway. Bruce pulled back the cowl and kneeled down next to Dick.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked.

“Fine,” Dick breathed, his eyes wide. “I’m fine. Barry, Iris, and Wally have been taking care of me.”

“Speaking of Barry,” Wally said from the bed, his eyes just as wide as Dick’s when Bruce’s attention settled on his, “does he know that you’re in here?”

Bruce grimaced. “Probably not.”

“They have to still be awake,” Wally argued weakly. I mean, it’s barely awake, and Iris has that article due in the morning that she’s been freaking out over all day. How did you get past them?”

“I’m Batman,” Bruce said, like that explained everything, and even though it did, Dick couldn’t help but laugh at Wally’s gob smacked face. Bruce turned his attention back to Dick, and the laughter died on Dick’s lips.

Dick cleared his throat, his stomach a ball of nerves. “Hi, Bruce.”

“Hi, Dick,” Bruce said, not missing a beat. “Care to explain what that note was about?”

Dick winced. “Uh, you read that?”

“Of course I read it,” Bruce told him, settling tailor-style on the floor in front of Dick. “I came home from work to find my son missing and a note explaining pretty much nothing other than that you were running away.”

“Sorry,” Dick said softly. “I didn’t mean to make you worry or anything.”

“How could I not?” Bruce said. “I’ve been searching for you for two days, Dick, nonstop. You can’t seriously believe that just because I fired Robin that meant I didn’t want you.”

“Well, that’s what it felt like!” Dick argued, his temper flaring. “Every time you’ve benched me before it’s been as a punishment! Why should this time be any different? You said Robin was fired, and to me that sounded like you didn’t need me anymore!”

“So you ran away? Dick, I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“I was trying to prove that I could be Robin, with or without you,” Dick told him, glaring at the floor. “You wouldn’t listen to me before, so I thought that it would be better without me.”

Bruce settled a hand on Dick’s shoulder, both of them ignoring the way Wally was creeping out of the room to give them some privacy. “Dick, look at me,” Bruce demanded, and Dick did, but it was with some resentment. “Robin or not, I’m always going to need you.”

“That’s not—”

“Robin or not,” Bruce repeated, “I’m always going to need you. You’re my son, Dick. I know I’m not John, but I care about you, and you got really hurt a few weeks ago. I was terrified, Dick.”

“But being Robin is my choice,” Dick told him. “I know the risks, Bruce! Just like you do!”

“You’re a child,” and Bruce looked angry now. “I’m an adult. I can take a hit. You’re eleven, and you almost died.”

“So let’s work on more evasion maneuvers! More training!” Dick cried. “But this is my choice! Robin is my name, and you can’t take it away from me anymore than I can take Batman away from you! Robin is a part of me!”

Bruce was quiet for a moment, his lips thin as he stared down at Dick, and Dick realized he was trembling with emotion, tears spilling down his cheeks as he fought for the very thing that kept him alive sometimes.

He loved being Robin. He got to help people, he got to fly. Working as Batman and Robin, it was more than most people could ever dream of, and Dick absolutely loved making a difference. He loved giving people hope, and Bruce was trying to take that hope away. And Dick just didn’t understand why.

Bruce let out a slow, controlled breath. “Dick, I want you to listen to me, okay?” Dick nodded, biting his lip. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for trying to take Robin away from you, and I won’t do it again. But,” Bruce said before Dick could do more than suck in a sharp breath, “after your physical therapy, I’m not going to immediately put you back in the field. I was too naïve before, thinking you could get away with the basics.”

Dick blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“You know I trained around the world for years,” Bruce told him quietly. “I trained you for a few months and then set you loose, thinking that giving you practical experience would be the best option for you. And it was, but I think I let you out a bit too early.”

“But I’ve trained as an acrobat my whole life,” Dick argued. “It’s not like I don’t have any training.”

“Yes,” Bruce said slowly, “and that training has helped you a lot. But you’re also an eleven year old kid. So, I propose two more months of combat training, of simulation training for Gotham’s brand of criminals, and we can call this a deal. You in?”

“Yeah,” Dick breathed. It sounded fair. Bruce was worried, Dick got that now. He didn’t want Dick to get hurt, and Dick could last two months of training, because he’d done it before. “Yeah, I’m in.”

“Wait a minute,” Barry said, standing up in alarm. “Are you telling me that Batman is upstairs right now? In my house?”

“Uh, yes?” Wally tried. “Him and Rob are talking things out, I guess. Not sure how it’ll turn out, though. It didn’t sound very good.”

“Well,” said Iris, setting her cup of coffee down on the coffee table next to her laptop, “If it doesn’t work out with Batman, Robin’s always welcome here.”

Wally grinned. “Thanks, Aunt Iris.”

Barry sighed. “You know what, I’m going to go tell Clark what happened, and then Bruce is going to get in trouble. After that, don’t involve me anymore. I don’t think I could take it.”

“KF!” Robin called, vaulting over the banister and landing in the living room in a crouch. Wally could only watch with wide eyes as the grinning kid tackled him in a hug. “Hey, thanks for your advice, KF. It worked!”

“Um,” Wally said as Robin detangled himself from Wally, “glad to hear it?”

“You going home, kiddo?” Iris asked, looking properly amused. Wally shot her a betrayed look, because she knew he wasn’t big on hugging. “We definitely wouldn’t mind another night with you here.”

Robin smiled shyly. “Thanks, but Bruce is going to take me home now. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Anytime, apparently,” Barry said, and Iris slapped his arm playfully. “What? You said you’d take him if Batman didn’t want him.”

“Oh, Batman says he wants me,” Robin said to Iris innocently, and Wally had to squash the urge to ask where that charm had come from, because it only seemed to come out around Iris. Which, Wally didn’t mind much, since he found it a little annoying, but still. “Sorry, Iris.”

Iris laughed. “That’s okay. You gone on home, then. I’m sure Batman has missed you.”

“Bye, KF,” Rob said.

Wally smiled back at him. “Bye, Rob.”

Robin laughed, waved, and ninja’d back up over the banister again, disappearing upstairs—probably leaving out Wally’s bedroom window.

“Can’t they just use the door like normal people?” Wally complained as he collapsed on the couch.

Barry snorted. “Have you met Batman?”

Wally sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“It’s good to see you, Master Dick,” Alfred said when Dick and Bruce had appeared in the zeta tubes, and Dick almost started crying right then and there. Dick leaned into Bruce’s side, who’d taken the cowl off again, instead of running to hug Alfred since the butler wasn’t the biggest on physical contact. “I am glad to see that you are alright.”

“I’m okay,” Dick confirmed as Bruce wrapped an arm around him. “It’s good to be home.”

[addicted-to-dc]

Batboys X Reader- Welcome To The Family

“He got another one?”

Dick and Jason stared at your dirty and small figure sitting at the dining room table, eating your food as if it were your last meal.  Bruce had informed everyone that he had taken you off from the streets when he found you at a crime scene.  You were hidden behind a couple boxes when a criminal decided to mug someone in the same alley.  The sounds of the victim struggling woke you up from your nap, making you leave your current home at the time.  There was a woman that was attempting to push a man’s knife away from her neck.  You quickly grabbed an old pipe you kept with you and stood up, quietly approaching the man until you were directly behind him.  You rose the pipe and bashed it on his head, causing him to drop the knife and collapse on the ground.  You hit him again for good measure and kicked away the knife.  The woman you saved stared at you, trying to process what you had just done.

“He’s still alive,” you muttered and kicked the man, receiving a groan from him.

“Thank you,” she stuttered out and hugged you.

You sighed at the warmth she provided, but had to let go, “Can you call the police?  I don’t want to be here without help if he wakes up again.”

She nodded and pulled out her cell phone out of her battered purse.  A few minutes later, a shadow enveloped you and the woman.  You turned around, the pipe still in your grip, to find the Batman looking at you and the woman.  He walked past you and the woman, grabbed the man, and placed some type of handcuffs on him.  Once he was finished with the criminal, he turned around and faced you and the woman.  

“Is this one yours?” he asked and gestured to you.

She shook her head, “she just… appeared and knocked out the guy.”

He nodded and looked over to you, which caused you to tighten your grip on the pipe.  You watched as a slight smile appeared on his face, but it disappeared as he faced the woman again.

“I’ll take her somewhere safe,” he said as he approached you.  “You get home, the police will talk to you in the morning.”

The lady nodded before looking at you one last time, “Thank you.”

You nodded and watched her as she walked out of the alleyway, but returned your attention to the caped crusader that was standing near you.

“I don’t need your pity party,” you stated and walked over to the cardboard boxes that you called home.  “I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

“I’m not saying that you aren’t, I’m saying that no child should have to live in the conditions you are,” Batman stated.  “I’m offering you food, water, a home and possibly a family.  If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

You were actually surprised with your answer when you agreed to his terms, and now you were glad that you did accept his offer.  Now you had a roof over your head and all of the food you could imagine.  You saw a boy and a couple of older men walking around the manor during your stay, but you never bothered to start a conversation with them.  The man who took you in, Bruce Wayne, had shown you around the enormous house after you finished eating. The room he said that you were staying in was bigger than the alley you used to sleep in, and the bed was the softest thing you’ve ever touched.  Bruce had left you in the bedroom saying something about private matters and to make yourself at home.  If it were a normal home, you would have definitely done what he suggested, but all you could do was stare at the room.  It felt as if you were out of place.

“Is your bed too soft?”

You jumped when you heard a new voice and turned around to find one of the men you saw walking in the manor.  He had a white streak in his raven hair, making you wonder if he dyed it.

“What?” you asked confusedly.

“The bed, is it too soft?  I remember the first time I moved in it felt like I was sleeping on clouds,” the man chuckled.

You nodded and watched as he walked over to your bed and sat down, patting his hand on the bed next to him.  You flopped down on the bed and sighed when you felt your spine relax.  

The man chuckled again, “What’s your name?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” you stated.

“Jason,” he introduced himself and held out his hand.

You lazily shook it and dropped your hand back in its original position, “(Y/N).”

“Jason, where are you?!  You promised that we would-”

Another man walked past the doorway to your room, but walked backwards until he saw you and Jason.  Jason sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  

“There you are!  We’re going to be late for that new movie premiere,” the man said and turned his attention to you.  “I’m Richard, but you can call me Dick.”

“If I can call you Dick, can you call me ‘Boob’?” you asked him in a serious tone.

He seemed taken aback by your question, but you soon bursted out in laughed and rolled off the bed.  Jason placed a hand over his mouth to cover his smile and contain his laughter as he looked over to Dick.

“The kid has got a point.”

You were still laughing on the floor when two boys entered your room.  Once you recovered, you climbed back onto the huge bed and noticed that two new people entered your room.

“We heard a thud and laughter, I knew you imbeciles wouldn’t be able to take care of the new resident,” the boy scowled and approached you.  “I am Damian, and the coffee addict is Drake.”

“It’s Tim,” the other one corrected Damian, giving you a small smile before sipping his coffee.  “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you replied, wrapping the blanket around you.  

“So… Who wants to go get some ice cream?” Dick asked, receiving an unanimous agreement from everyone.  

Jason stood up from the bed and walked into your closet, returning with a spare change of clothing in his arms, “You might need this, it’s pretty cold outside and I don’t think those clothes are very insulated.”

You took the clothes from his and ran into the bathroom, leaving the brothers alone.  Jason sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.  The other three boys were looking over at Jason, who glared at them when he noticed.

“What the hell are you staring at?” Jason grumbled.

“Who knew Jason was such a softie,” Tim chuckled and took another swig from his coffee, making Dick snort and Damian smirk.

“It’s being called sympathetic, idiot,” Jason retorted.  “You have no idea what a kid does to survive in the streets, especially in Gotham.”

The sound of the bathroom door opening directed the boys’ attention away from the conversation and to you, who was fiddling with the oversized clothing you changed into.  You quickly walked over to the foot of the bed and grabbed your battered shoes from the floor, making the boys frown.

“(Y/N), you do not need to wear such atrocious shoes, I will go fetch some footwear I do not require anymore,” Damian stated and walked out of the room, leaving you dumbstruck.  

You stared at the doorway for a couple seconds, registering what Damian had just said.  The battered, torn shoes in your hands were placed down on the floor and kicked under the bed.  You didn’t want to let go of those shoes yet.  There were many important items in them that you didn’t want to lose, they were the only things you had from your family.  After a few minutes of awkward silence, Damian returned with two pairs of old tennis shoes that looked about your size.  They were a little worn, but they were still in better condition than your shoes.  Damian handed you a pair and placed the leftover pair near your bed.  You quickly put on the shoes and zipped up the huge jacket that devoured you.

“Everyone ready?” Dick asked.

Everyone nodded and walked out of your bedroom, heading to the garage where all of the cars were located.  You quickly followed, slightly jogging to keep up with their long strides.  Dick seemed to notice this and pulled you up for a piggyback ride, which startled you at first.  He noticed your reaction and went to put you down, but you were already hugging him tightly, not budging an inch.  

Dick shook his head and chuckled, “What car are we taking today?”

“The safest one,” Tim blurted out.  “For.... safety reasons.”

“Fine,” Damian agreed, “but I’m driving.”

“No,” the three brothers said in unison.

“I know how,” Damian argued.

They rolled their eyes and entered the garage, where dozens of classic and/or expensive vehicles were parked.  You looked at all of them and saw one that spiked your interest.  You let go of Dick and ran over to the car, admiring it.  Your parents had a car exactly like this, but not as nice.  They had fixed it up together before they got engaged, but stopped when your father had to buy the engagement ring.  They occasionally tinkered with it while raising you, but it was never fixed to its full potential.  This car was all black instead of yellow and white, but you would recognize the model anywhere.  They boys stood there, watching as you looked at the vehicle with a solemn face.

“Do you want to go in this one?” Tim asked, earning a small nod from you.

You immediately opened up the passenger door and crawled into the back, not even bothering to move the seat.  The boys entered after you, Dick and Damian in the front and you, Jason and Tim in the back.  You sat in the seat you always sat in when you hid away in your parent’s car, tracing random pictures on the window.  When your parents were doing yard work or talking to a neighbor, you would listen to the radio and stare at the sky, if the roof was taken off, or lay down and take a nap with the music playing in the background.  You always kept the softest blanket in the house in the back for times like that.  Maybe you could do the same here if you choose to stay.  During the ride from the manor to the ice cream store, the boys remained quiet.  The only noise was the radio faintly playing some tune from a classic rock station.  You watched as the buildings and people whirred past you for about twenty minutes before the car stopped.  When you peered through the window, the small ice cream shop you passed too many times to count was right in front of you.  You haven’t been here in years.

“Everyone out!” Dick shouted and got out of the car.

Damian stepped out of the car and moved his seat up, allowing you, Tim and Jason to exit the vehicle.  The small shop seemed different from the last time you visited, you guessed it was renovated to look more modern.

Tim pulled out his wallet and asked, “What types of ice cream do you guys want?”

“Let’s just see what they have first,” Dick said and walked up to the counter.

“What can I get for you today?” the worker asked with a smile.

Each of the boys gave her their choice of ice cream and pushed you up to the counter to look at the choices.  You stood on your tiptoes to look through the glass, searching for a flavor that seemed like a good choice.  Once you told the worker your choice, you quickly sat down at one of the vacant tables and looked out the window.  Yesterday, you were out on the other side of this window, stealing wallets and defending yourself from the criminals that wanted to get their hands on you.  Now, you are in here and waiting for ice cream with four guys you barely even know.  It seemed like a bad joke to you, but you were grateful for their generosity.  You peered closer to the window, trying to catch a glimpse of something in the alley.  You looked back at the brothers, who were now arguing about something quietly, and ran out of the ice cream shop.  They didn’t notice that you were gone until they got your ice cream and found you missing from the table.  You couldn’t hear their shouts when you ran across the street towards the dark alleyway and grabbed a plank of wood that was on the ground.  

“I don’t care if you don’t have any money!! Just give me the damn wallet!!”

You quickly ran over to the man and slammed the wood plank on him, making him stumble back from the man he was trying to mug.  

“Son of a bitch!” the crook wailed and pulled a knife from his pocket.

You quickly pulled the innocent man’s sleeve and yanked him in the direction of the street.  Blood was running down the man’s face and hands, making you cringe at the amount of blood on your hands.  The crook was still on the ground when you finally dragged the man out of the alleyway, but you were met with four frantic brothers.

“(Y/N)!! What were you thinking?!”

“Are you hurt?”

“Who kicked this guy’s ass?”

You shoved the injured man to the brothers and quickly kicked the approaching crook directly where the sun don’t shine.  He collapsed on the  ground clutching his crotch and let out a bunch of profanities that would make a sailor embarrassed.  You looked back at the brothers and grabbed the ice cream from Tim’s hand, scooping some into your mouth.

“He needed help,” you stated and leaned up against the building after kicking the criminal one last time.

Dick and Tim stared at you while Jason dialed up 911.  Damian continued to eat his ice cream and joined you on the wall.  Once the two brothers snapped out of it, they continued asking you questions and checking for injuries.

You slapped their hands away and pointed to the injured man you rescued, “I’m fine, you should be worrying about him.”

------------------------------

After the police showed up, questioned you and took the crook away, you returned to the manor silently.  All four of them looked tired and ready to go to bed, and you knew that it was because of you.  When the car was finally parked, you climbed over the seat and exited through the back, leaving the boys in the car.  You ran to your room and quickly opened the door, revealing Alfred holding your shoes.

“Forgive me, miss (Y/N), but I was just collecting your old clothing,” Alfred said and placed your shoes on your bed.

“You don’t need to do that, I can take care of it myself,” you said and grabbed your shoes, taking out the soles and grabbing your photos and locket.

“How was your day out?” Alfred asked, sitting down next to you.

“It was fun,” you responded smiling.  “We got to go out in a car that looked almost like my mom and dad’s.  It felt like I was at home again.”

Alfred smiled, “I am glad that you enjoyed yourself.  How were the boys treating you?”

“They were nice… and goofy,” you replied.  “They treated me like a sister, even if they just knew me for less than a day.  To be honest, they feel like my brothers already… and I love them so much.”

“Does this mean you are going to stay here?” Alfred asked.

“I think so,” you answered.

“Welcome to the family,” Alfred said and stood up.  “I have some other things to tend to, but I am sure Master Bruce will arrive soon.  He will speak to you about the adoption.  Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good.  Thank you,” you responded.

“You are very welcome, miss,” Alfred stated and closed the door.

Once the door was closed, he looked down at the boys who were huddled against the door frame.  He rose a brow and walked away, leaving the boys to process what you had said.

“I suggest you all go to bed before I scold you for eavesdropping.”

[feedit]

Good for Nothing

I had high hopes for today. 

We keep really busy in the summer. I usually plan our schedule the week before so we can have days with less activity, some days with more, but something, vaguely, every day, even if it’s just a trip to the grocery store or other errands. 

But today I had big plans. 

Fine literature selections and a nutritious snack. 

The Museum of Contemporary Art here in Chicago has an exhibit on right now that I’m excited to see and that I think my kids will enjoy, too. And as luck would have it, Tuesdays are free to Illinois residents and so boom, a field trip idea was born. Getting to the museum is a bit of a big deal since we are bound to travel via CTA but usually that’s cool, too, and we make it work. 

And I’m a morning person so I woke up all excited, took a shower, got dressed in actual grown-up looking clothes and was greeted by my younger son, as is his usual routine. My big guy soon followed and we all dressed and headed downstairs for breakfast. That’s where things started to go off the rails. 

Nobody wanted breakfast, at least not what I wanted to feed them. Negotiations continued until we settled on pancakes for one, toast with peanut butter and honey for the other. Milk and juice, respectively. I packed up snacks and drinks, calculating how long it would take us to get to the train, make our transfer, walk over to the MCA. And then the radio announced that the Red, Brown and Purple line trains were stopped. Huge delays. 

That was my first sign that things were not going to happen exactly the way I’d planned. Perhaps we could leave a little later. Recalculating. 

My older son had a recent birthday and so he had a pile of new toys that he wanted to explore. He begged me to play Trouble. To help him with his new Lego set. To read from his new book. I brought my coffee over to the table and we played, doing our best to keep his little brother engaged. 

After I threw a couple of games to my not-so-gracious winner boy, I asked the little men if they were ready to go downtown? “No - we want to do Legos!” From the kitchen, the NPR traffic reporter announced that there’s no end in sight for the delays, which now included bus lines, Uber and Lyft and Lake Shore Drive traffic jams. Recalculating. 

We started working on Legos. I’m not the engineer of the family, so the process was tougher than I’d hoped.I mean, the box says it’s for ages 8-14 so I should be able to handle it, right? An hour later, we finished. He was delighted and carried it off to start the latest Nexo adventure of some sort with the new vehicle. The other boy wanted a snack. It’s nearly lunch time. 

Sigh. 

“Are you guys ready to go downtown after lunch?” I asked, gathering lunch ingredients and plates.

“NO!” they said in unison. “We just want to play here today.”

I stood at the sliding door and gazed up. The sun was shining and the sky was a gorgeous blue. I couldn’t believe we were wasting this day! A whole day. 

Back in the living room, the boys were conducting a knight battle that somehow also included The Avengers, Lego Batman and a large, stuffed snake named Slithery. Board games were scattered across the room. Breakfast dishes teetered precariously on the arm of the couch and juice dripped from a toppled sippy cup onto the floor. 

As I sliced an apple, I saw my plans of strolling (OK, dragging them) through the gallery downtown slipping away. All my attempt at a little art and culture were thwarted by public transit issues and an attack by the Lego Stone Army on the Batcave perched on my coffee table. 

I thought about The Atlantic article I’d read this spring, about how ‘being busy’ is the new status symbol for working people. Prestige, the article says, quoting a recently published paper in The Journal of Consumer Research, is based on your level of busyness. It used to be that status came from flaunting things, but things are easy to get and to show off. Time is the ultimate commodity and if you have less, you must be doing more and thus are more successful. 

I know I’m guilty of feeling that a day unfilled is a day wasted. Summer in Chicago is so very fleeting. Time with my little boys as little boys is screaming by. My Facebook feed is full of our super fun summer adventures, and I’m grinning right along with my accomplices. But there are only so many Tuesdays left before school is back in session and I’ll be balancing two different school schedules. Bittersweet hours to fill, all by myself. How can we waste even one precious, precious day? Doing nothing?

A crash from the other room brought me back to the reality of today, and I checked the clock. Hardly worth going downtown now. I peeked in at the battle, which was now a sort of wrestling match on the couch that was sure to end badly. But for now they were making each other laugh with scatological ‘humor’ and fart jokes galore.

Lunch is served, and I join them. We read a few chapters of a book together and they allow me to join in their Lego/Superhero mash-up battle for total domination of something. The rules keep changing but at least I get to be the Hillary Clinton Lego I created. She wears a cape, of course. 

Later, they humored me with a short visit to the library, where they stacked huge blocks and I got to read for few minutes. When we got home, we had a some cookies and milk on the back porch and reviewed the pile of new books that we’d lugged home. 

Lucas turned to me with a face covered in crumbs. “Mom,” he said. “This was the best day!” 

Not what I had in mind, but exactly what they needed. Maybe what we all needed. 

Recalculating.