#bruce would’ve HAD to have used the backwards button up shirt trick on him to get him to stop unbuckling himself lol

[ginalinettiofficial]

listen to me. listen to me please.

i know that canonically bruce wayne never had any of his tiny children in booster seats because comic book writers likely are not very well educated on the topic and, like honestly most people, are entirely unaware of the very real dangers that children under age 12 face in cars due to their spinal and skeletal development. i know this.

but i cannot help the part of my brain that IS educated about car seat safety and booster seat safety and best practices for children in vehicles

and i also cannot help but know that bruce “my back up plans have back up plans and research is my super power” wayne would absolutely have at least SOME idea of the most up to date car seat regulations okay

and so i cannot help but think that somewhere in some universe. there is a bruce wayne who has asked for booster fit checks for his 12 and under robins on car seat safety facebook groups or reddit pages

and now i am just imagining. the posts. because listen

there are car seat pages on facebook okay, groups full primarily of parents and caregivers who post pictures of their children’s car seats/boosters and/or their children IN said seats, for purposes of doing a “fit check” aka asking the professionals in the group (CPSTs, in case anyone cares) to double check that the seat is installed correctly and that they have buckled the child correctly and that everything fits properly

and the thing is that a good quarter of all posts in those groups are in fact of children aged 10-12 sitting their most upright and buckled in WITHOUT their booster, with a caption that goes something like “hey so my 10yo is begging to be done with their booster - can i get a fit check? they’re 55in, 62 pounds. we drive a 2007 camry if that matters.” and the comments are inevitably filled with people letting them know that nope, sorry, that kid does NOT pass the 5-step test, and probably will need a booster for a couple more years.

(the five step test, if you’re curious, is the five steps that a child has to physically pass in order to safely sit without a booster before age 13. there are four places to fit check - neck, lap, knees, and feet - and then the fifth step is whether they are mature enough to keep themselves in a safe position for the duration of a car ride - aka won’t slouch, mess with the seatbelt, etc. most 12 year olds do not 5 step and if their parents are educated about it, that means they’ve gotta be in a booster til they’re 13.)

((the comment section will also inevitably have at least one adult woman saying “this is wild, i’m 5’1 and i don’t pass this five step test myself! yall are too strict!” followed by the admins or a cpst kindly reminding them, “yes, but you have an adult skeleton. also you ARE at more risk in a car than the average man, cars are designed to keep male bodies safe and female and child bodies just have to make do.”))

all this to say that i can just. SO picture bruce wayne being in one of these groups, and every few years posting a pic of a different kid and saying “please help me convince my child he still needs his booster, as he won’t listen to me. age 11, 60in, 75lb, convinced that i’m making him use a booster seat solely to embarrass him 🙄”

and then the comments section which would be half people going “hahahah my 12yo is the exact same - but nope sorry bud, knees don’t meet the edge of the seat & that belt is definitely too high up on his neck!!” and “definitely doesn’t 5 step, better luck next time kiddo 😂” and the other half people going “BRUCE WAYNE??????????” or “BRUCE POSTED EVERYONE WAKE UP BRUCE POSTED AGAIN!!!!! hi bruce we missed you!!!!!”

i can’t draw well enough but please know that if i could i’d make a whole social media au that’s just bruce asking for booster fit checks for his various children

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 2: 

Dick raised a suspicious eyebrow at the two women in front of him.

“So,” he started slowly, “you want to kill this man,” he pointed to the man chained to a pole, squirming with fear, “because he slapped someone? Like slapped in the face?” Barbara rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Boy Wonder. Do keep up.” Dick’s eye twitched imperceptibly. Despite her being one of the only people who could sass a Wayne and get away with it, that didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off sometimes.

“Okay, fine. Why don’t I ask a better question. Why is my bastard of an ex here?” Three pairs of eyes slid over to where Deathstroke, in full uniform, lounged on a lone wooden crate. The man’s white eyebrow raised, his eyes full of amusement.

“That hurts, little bird. Here I thought we would be able to let by gones be by gones.” Dick grit his teeth.

“Keep that up, Slade and I’ll send Damian after you,” the dark haired man snarled, a sneer twisting his handsome features, “he’d be happy to get rid of you after last time.” This only made Slade laugh.

“The baby Wayne can try all he wants. He won’t be able to do anything.”

“He’s not so much of a baby anymore. He’s almost as tall as you with much more on his body count than you’ve ever had.” Dick looked up at the larger male’s 6’5 form, knowing that Damian was only, at most, an inch shorter. Of the many traits he had taken after his father, Damian Al Ghul Wayne, Ibn al Xu’ffasch, at the age of 19, far surpassed Bruce in height, now towering over his father at his full height of 6 '4, and matched him in the bulk department. Slade scoffed at the man.

“That doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to take me away from this.” At this, Dick glanced at the man with renewed interest and back at Slade with suspicion.

“Why the hell are you so interested in this, Slade? Working with people isn’t exactly your style and Barbara tells me you’re even doing this pro bono,” a bloodthirsty grin overtook Dick’s face, “whoever this is must be real special.” A threat resided in Dick’s voice, something that stiffened the other three people in the room. Before Slade could speak, Barbara cut in.

“Dick,” she started, and while he didn’t turn towards her, she knew he was listening. “It’s not just him. It’s us too.” She gestured to Stephanie and herself, Stephanie nodding to convince Dick it was really what they all wanted. Because, it genuinely was what they had wanted. The fact that both his unofficial sisters wanted this too made him falter a bit. Dick stared at the blonde and the redhead before turning back to glare at the man chained to the pole. He visibly paled and scrambled backwards, despite his back resting against the cool metal. A slight smile at the man’s obvious fear slipped over Dick’s face before it disappeared and he sighed.

“Fine,” he said, and his eyes darkened. Everyone else in the room straightened.

While he would deny it fervently, Slade felt a small shiver make its way down his back as he eyed his ex in arousal. He particularly loved it when he used to do that. Dick grinned again, teeth showing; a pretty smile. Dangerous. “But only if I get to watch.”

-----

“I wonder what’s happened to Mr. Stanley.” Peter didn’t have to see Stephanie stiffen. He heard her. Pretending as if he didn’t, he continued, “I hope he’s okay.” Stephanie coughed into her sleeve and he looked over at her in concern. How much of it was an act and how much of it was genuine worry, he didn’t know. Peter handed the blonde a napkin, who took it with a nod of thanks.

“Why would you want to know if he’s okay? He slapped you just last week!” Peter shrugged, uncaring of the odd look his now friend was sending him. Barbara apparently had some business to take care of so Stephanie came in alone. Harley was busy as well, running after her boyfriend. Peter’s lips twitched into a frown at the thought of Harley being hurt. Again.

Stephanie, who noticed his slight frown, concluded the wrong thing.

“Pete, you’re too good for this world.” Peter averted his eyes away from her, a sad look crossing his face. He remembers all the people he couldn’t save in his own world. The people he killed because he wasn’t old enough, experienced enough, prepared enough, good enough. Of all the things he was, good was not one of them.

“I’m really not, Steph. I’m really not.” Ignoring the imploring look his blonde friend sent his way, he said nothing and looked away. There was nothing to say anyway.

Steph left not long after that, saying that she had somewhere she needed to be. It had been a week and he had still not seen Mr. Stanley since he had slapped him. There wasn’t any doubt in Peter’s brain that Slade, Steph and possibly Barbara had been responsible for his disappearance. They must’ve been meticulous too, since no news report of a missing man has shown up at all. A shiver of both fear and warmth crept up Peter’s back at length they went to. He oddly felt scared yet safe at the same time, even though he still had his powers.

‘And the suit,’ his mind supplied. Peter glanced down at his wrist where the watch Mr. Stark had gifted him lay, wrapped around his wrist. He had come up with the idea not long after his nanobot suit came to fruition.

While it looked like a regular touch screen watch, it held all the nanobots needed to pull together his suit inside, even becoming a set of web slingers itself once the suit was deployed. There were two buttons side by side on the side of the watch, one being to turn the watch on and off and the other to activate the suit. Mr. Stark had instructed him to pull the second button out, listen for the clicking sound and watch for the screen of the watch to pop upwards before pushing down on the screen, which would deploy the suit. Peter had not taken out the suit since his arrival into this world. It was nice to know he had it in case of emergencies, however.

Barely two hours later, Peter was exhausted and just wanting to get back to the shelter so he could sleep. After three fights (which was three fights too many to break up) and demanding customers, even in broad daylight, he only wanted to be alone. Well, as alone as he could get. He threw the towel over his shoulder down onto the wood of the bar and stretching his arms upwards, his back cracking deliciously as he moaned in relief.

‘Thank God, my back was killing me,’ he thought as he continued to stretch his stiff muscles. Quiet footsteps lumbered towards his side of the bar, their heaviness and sound familiar enough to Peter for him to not open his eyes and realize who it was. Another little crack came from his spine and Peter moaned quietly. A huff of laughter sounded in front of him.

“Careful, sweetheart. People might get the wrong idea.” Peter cracked one eye open at Slade, letting his arms fall back down to his sides and levelling the mercenary with a deadpan stare, silently noting the quick and quiet steps that were approaching the two.

“The wrong idea about what, Slade? Stretching?” Slade’s one eye roved over Peter’s small frame hungrily, and while Peter did feel a bit endangered, he also felt fond. After a few days of conversation with Deathstroke, his Spidey Sense had calmed down significantly and Peter knew that Slade would never do whatever Peter didn’t want him to do. Slade shrugged.

“You never know, sweetheart.” A voice spoke behind Slade, lilting and teasing.

“Aww Slade. You’ve replaced me already?” Both men looked at the intruder, a very handsome man with tanner skin than Peter’s (though that’s not saying much. Peter was pretty pale), striking blue eyes and a wide, pretty smile. Peter supposes he should be falling for him or at least be flustered, but he can’t bring himself to be with his Spidey Sense starting to sound like a banging drum at the arrival of this man.

The smile seems to melt the people around them, mostly women and even some men, but Peter’s seen it a hundred times before. It was similar to Mr. Stark’s fake smiles at press events. The first he had been to was his inauguration into the Avengers and while he was convinced at first, Peter started seeing the smile’s ingenuousness more and more as he attended other press conferences and parties. Looking at this man’s smile was like a mirror image, leaving Peter more than convinced of some sort of ulterior motive.

“Little bird,” Slade murmured, eyes suspiciously downcast. Peter watched as the man’s smile became sharp for a fraction of a second before it was gone. If Peter hadn’t seen it with his senses, he would’ve thought it to be a trick of the light or something. The man’s striking eyes swiveled over to Peter and the curly brown haired boy had to stop himself from tensing up at the intensity of the gaze. He couldn’t help but feel like he was now a sort of lab rat to this man. His gaze held interest but it was the same kind of interest that one would give an ant on the street.

“Hello,” he greeted politely, “can I get you started with something?” The sharpness was there again and gone again before Peter could even blink.

“Why, yes you can,” he purred, dark hair falling into his face attractively as he sat down next to Slade. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter noticed that Slade tensed the tiniest bit. The man spoke again, getting Peter to focus on him again, “you can start by telling me your name, gorgeous.” Peter was a bit flustered at the nickname, though he tried not to give any outward indication that he was affected.

‘Seriously, what is up with people and giving me nicknames!’ Peter pointed at the name tag pinned to his shirt and watched as the man raised an eyebrow. “I meant tell me, gorgeous. Verbally.” Peter stared at him.

“Sir, I don’t mean to insult your intelligence, but you can read right?” A quiet snort came from Slade but both Peter and the man ignored him.

“Of course I can read, but I want you to tell me your name.” Peter searched this man’s face, his intentions unclear. It was obvious he had ulterior motives but what were they? Finally, he answered.

“Peter. Peter Parker.” He grinned like the cat who got the cream. He held his hand out which Peter took hesitantly, letting the man’s much larger hand engulf his own, noticing that despite the strength he obviously carried, he kept his grip surprisingly gentle.

‘Manipulative,’ his mind whispered, ‘careful.’

“Richard Grayson. But you can call me Dick.” Peter’s eyebrows raised in surprise and a light giggle left his lips, shocking not only himself but Slade as well. It was interesting but he latched onto the name.

“Okay, Dick,” he put emphasis on the name, watching for any reaction that would accompany his subtle insult. There was none. “What can I get you?”

“Virgin mojito with ice. Thanks.” As Peter worked on making the drink for Dick, he kept a super sense ear towards their conversation.

“What are you doing here, little bird?” He heard Slade whisper.

“Seeing what all the fuss was about.” When he was done, Peter gave the glass to Dick who turned his attention towards the superhero-turned-bartender.

“So,” Dick started as Peter wiped down some wet glasses, “where do you live?” Peter glanced up and saw that Dick was leaning closer towards him, eyes sparking in interest.

“Why?”

“So I can take you on a date.” Peter barely stopped himself from scoffing.

“I just met you.” Dick nodded, his face portraying the question, ‘so?’ “So, I’m not going to tell you where I live.” The dark haired man shifted to one side, Peter’s eyes following him.

“You’re saying you don’t trust me?” The sharp grin was back, only this time it was on full display. ‘People obviously can’t tell the difference between pretty and danger,’ Peter thought as he watched more and more people start paying attention to the ridiculously attractive man sitting at the bar.

“Of course not,” he answered simply, his eyes straying to Slade for a quick moment. Dick’s eyes were analyzing and somehow, Peter felt like he knew more about Peter than Peter did himself. Even then, Peter refused to be daunted. ‘It’s not how Mr. Stark would be.’ Dick, noticing that Peter looked at Slade, suddenly looked like Christmas had come early.

“You know,” he purred, “Slade here isn’t exactly someone you should trust either.”

“How do you know I trust him?”

“You call him by his first name. Although common, he doesn’t enjoy just anyone calling him that.” Peter recalled the moment when Dick had slid into their conversation unannounced.

“If that’s the case, then you must be close to him too.” Surprisingly, Dick was startled for a quick second before he started rolling with the punches. It made Peter proud in a way. He gets the vibe that this man doesn’t get surprised easily.

“Maybe once upon a time. But still.” Peter sighed.

“Why shouldn't I trust him?” Dick leaned forward, his hand beckoning Peter to as well, which he did reluctantly. Slade tensed a bit more next to Dick.

“He’s a mercenary for hire.” It was whispered as if it was a great secret. Peter didn’t react. At all.

“Yeah, I know.” A moment passed as Slade’s shoulders slumped and Dick tilted his head in curiosity. “Besides, he’s never been anything but transparent about his job, even if he didn’t tell me. If there’s anyone I shouldn’t trust, Mr. Grayson,” Dick’s eyebrows raised to his hairline at the formality, “it would be you. You may be able to charm everyone else here but I’m not fooled. Your pretty smile and flowery words are fake enough for me to see through.” Dick was about to reply but a sharp rap on the door to the interior of the bar caught their attention.

“You’re off, Parker,” his manager rasped, clearly still hungover. He turned back to the two men sitting in front of him.

“Well, I’ll see you later Slade.” The older man nodded.

“See you, sweetheart.” Peter flashed a blinding smile towards him, making sure to leave Dick out of it. Said man was aware and huffed a laugh at Peter’s antics.

“What about me?” He pointed to himself. Peter shot him a deadpan look.

“I hope to never see you again.” With that, he walked off and out of the bar, hearing quiet chuckling but not quite noticing the interested looks from the man that would soon become one of the many thorns in his side. Fucking Parker Luck.

-----

Peter’s eye twitched as Dick sat down beside him, for once not alone. Babs followed behind him. It seemed that today it was Steph who was missing. It was barely even a week after their first meeting at the bar and he already couldn’t stand the sight of the other man. The fact that he kept appearing at all ofPeter’s shifts didn’t help. Dick smiled that pretty smile that Peter was sure tricked so many other people into selling their soul.

“Peter! What a coincidence!” A discreet glance at the red head behind Dick told Peter that this meeting was anything but a coincidence. The brown eyed boy didn’t answer, causing the darker haired man to pout. Instead, Peter met Barbara’s eyes and waved.

“How’re you, Babs?” Barbara’s soft smile lessened his irritation slightly. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m good, Peter. Thanks for asking.” Peter nodded and went back to checking his phone, his break almost over. He’d be damned if he let Dick Grayson take up all his time. Ignoring the heat that dominated the side of his face, he sent a text to Harley.

To Harley: Are you going to be meeting me at the club today?

It wasn’t even a minute later that Harley texted back.

To Puppy: I can’t today, puppy. Mr. J has a job and wants me to help! Wish me luck! <3

Peter sighed, causing Dick to not-so-subtly turn to him in curiosity.

To Harley: Okay. Good luck. Stay safe.

Peter logged out of the app and checked his bank account, deflating at the meager number. ‘Only $329.53. How am I ever going to get out of the shelter?’ He needed so much food on a daily basis that he barely had much money left over. Momentarily distracted, Peter left his phone screen open for anyone to see, even the annoying man sitting next to him. Dick whistled.

“That’s a low number.” Peter shot him an irritated glance.

“Don’t you have anything else to do, other than stalking me?” Dick pretended to think about it for a moment, before shaking his head, his blue eyes filled with mirth.

“Nope. Looks like you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night.” The brown haired boy clenched his hand, balling it into a fist. His eye twitched again. Taking a visible breath, Peter walked behind the bar, avoiding looking at the handsome man.

‘Just another hour, Parker,’ he thinks, though his rising annoyance made him want to flee, ‘just another hour, and you’ll be fine.’

-----

After an hour of Dick blatantly staring at him (and no one, not even the security guards, questioned it. He thought it was odd), Peter was finally free to go. Babs had left within the first fifteen minutes, saying she had some late night errands to run. He practically flew into the back room to change into the clothes he wore before getting into uniform, and made it outside the club in record time, avoiding Dick when he surged up from his seat as Peter briskly walked past.

The cool air hit him, causing him to shiver and clutched his hoodie. He scolded himself for not believing the forecast this morning. Gritting his teeth, he started walking in the direction of the shelter, purposefully starting on a light jog as he heard heavier set footsteps behind him.

“Hey! Peter!” Dick called, following closely behind. Too close in Peter’s personal opinion, but before he could speed up, a strong hand grabbed his upper arm, and insane strength (at least, by normal human standards, but Peter was far from normal) halted his path. Because he had been running, physics decided to be a bitch (like it always was), and he crashed into Dick’s chest, the side of his head bouncing off the other man’s sternum.

Using it to his advantage, Peter rammed his shoulder back into his chest, managing to hit Dick’s solar plexus. It should’ve been enough to get the taller man to let go, but instead, his grip tightened on Peter’s upper arm and before Peter knew it, he was being hoisted up, an arm cinching around his waist as he was bodily carried into a nearby alleyway.

Now, Peter knew he was short and incredibly skinny, even after his transformation, but to hear it from someone else was a bit embarrassing in his books. Especially someone who had at least five inches on him, if not more.

“Jesus, do you eat? You’re tiny.” Dick hissed as Peter’s free arm came down on his shoulder blades and arms, anywhere he could reach. Funnily enough, Peter was barely putting any of his real strength into the hits, but he knew it was enough to bruise Dick for the next couple weeks. “Hey- ow! Peter!” He yelled but Peter continued to hit him. “Peter! Stop!”

“Let me go, Dick!” It seemed that Dick had had enough because next thing he knew, he was being pushed against a brick wall, the expanse of his chest pushed uncomfortably against the bricks by one if Dick’s long forearms and his upper arm had been let go in favor of capturing both of his wrists in one hand. Peter was about to stomp his foot onto Dick’s, probably breaking it, but Dick’s shout stopped him before he could.

“Peter! Wait! I just wanted to take you home!” That caused Peter to pause, looking up at Dick. None of his senses told him that Dick was lying, so instead of attacking him, Peter asked through clenched teeth.

“Why?” Peter glared up at Dick, and while he knew that his expression was about as threatening as a kitten and that he probably faced worse faces than Peter’s, he still watched in satisfaction as the taller actually seemed nervous now. His heartbeat also conveyed his anxiety.

“Gotham’s dangerous at night. And I think I’ve known you long enough to be at least a little worried,” Dick’s demeanor suddenly shifted, a smirk lighting up his face, “Besides, I don’t want my new favorite friend to get killed. Then who will glare at me with such a cute face?”

Now that Peter was closer to him, he could see why people seemed to fall for him wherever he went. Dick was very handsome, with a cheerful, if not cocky attitude. But Peter refused to be one of those people.

“I don’t need an escort. I can take care of myself.”

“You look like a breeze could knock you over.” Peter bristled.

“Are you saying that I need your help? ‘Cause I really don’t.”

“You couldn’t get me to let you go. Do you think that anyone else on the street, who are mostly larger than you and me, wouldn’t be able to take you down?” Peter scoffed, and using some more of his super strength, he shoved Dick back, the other man stumbling all the way to the other side of the alleyway. Dick braced himself on the wall, looking at Peter with wide eyes.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, Dick, but I can take care of myself. Whether or not you see it.” With that, he walked out of the alleyway and back towards the shelter. He heard no footsteps following him this time.

-----

Dick massaged his chest, still leaning against the wall that Peter had shoved him against. It was almost out of nowhere that his strength came and managed to successfully get Dick to let him go. He didn’t run after Peter, but he was resolved to escort Peter home safely. Afterall, if Steph and Babs liked him so much, Dick would probably like him too.

‘Yeah, he did not disappoint.’

His first time meeting Peter was rather weird for Dick. His first impression was ‘cute.’ The guy had one of the largest sets of honey brown eyes he’d ever seen. His hair was curly and fluffy, and Dick was tempted to card a hand through the light brown locks to prove their softness. He was small, too, with a short stature and skinny arms. Basically, he looked defenseless and naive, if not adorably so.

However, nearly everyone he met that wasn’t an assassin, mafioso, terrorist, whathaveyou, had fallen for his charms. Sometimes, even the assassin, mafioso, terrorist (etc.) had fallen for him. But Peter was different. The instant Peter spotted him next to Slade, his guard was put up quickly and he wasn’t fooled by charming smiles and pretty words. If that wasn’t enough to prove his oddity, the fact that he had said it straight to Dick’s face, even when Slade was right next to him, just made him more interesting to Dick.

So sue him if he was slightly concerned about someone so defenseless looking roaming around at night. He was a son of the Wayne Mafioso branch, largest crime family on the East Coast, and Gotham and her inhabitants were his to help, protect, and punish if he so pleased.

Pushing off the wall, Dick decided that this particular inhabitant was also his to help and protect, even if it was against his will.

Dick suddenly realized that Peter must’ve been new to Gotham, seeing as he didn’t recognize him as Bruce Wayne’s first, adopted son, which only served to make Dick want to protect him from the streets even more.

“Okay, it’s only been a couple minutes since he left. He can’t be that fast,” Dick muttered as he started on the path that Peter took to go home. A couple blocks up, Dick could see the heel of Peter’s shoe as he turned the street. Following quickly, he ran the couple blocks and turned the corner, as well, seeing Peter crossing a crosswalk to the other side of the street. He followed as well and all the way to a place that looked unfamiliar to him. It wasn’t an apartment building. Peter entered through the doors.

‘A homeless shelter?’

-----

A couple days passed since the little scuffle with Dick and Peter was thankful that the man had at least some common sense to know when he wasn’t welcome. Peter hasn’t seen him at all the past few days and he couldn’t be happier. Harley noticed.

“Whatcha so happy about, Pup?” She asked when they were hanging out at her apartment. Peter smiled beamingly at Harley who covered her eyes like she was looking into the sun. Both of them giggled.

“Just happy. Hey, Harley?”

“Hmm?” Harley played with the stick of the lollipop in her mouth, absently listening.

“Do you know Slade personally?” The platinum blonde shook her head.

“Nope. Why? You finally admitting yer’ feelin’s for him?” Peter huffed, giving his friend a knowing look.

“No, I’m not into him. Like I said, too old. Not exactly my type.” Harley hummed but looked skeptical. “Anyway, even if you don’t know him personally, do you know who he works with?” His friend thought about it for a minute, swinging her legs back and forth in her seat at her kitchen table.

“Some. Why?”

“Just wondering if you knew someone named Dick Grayson?” Harley froze, a terrified look dawning on her face. Peter frowned and was about to ask her if she was alright but Harley suddenly surged forward and grabbed Peter by the arms, her grip tight.

“Where did you hear that name?!” Peter, now more concerned, drew his eyebrows tight.

“I met him the other day, when you weren’t at the bar. He came in alone and talked with Slade. He came in another day too, with Babs.” Harley’s eyes searched his own wildly, as if trying to see whether or not he was telling the truth.

Her blue eyes widened when she saw that he was completely serious. Slowly, she let go of Peter’s arms and sat back down in her seat. She put her head into her hands, leaning over the counter for a minute, so silent that Peter started to become even more worried. Silence was uncharacteristic of Harley Quinn.

“Okay,” she spoke up after a couple minutes, “I want you to promise me something, okay, Peter?” Honey brown eyes widened a bit. She used his real name. This was serious.

“Anything, Harls.”

“I want you to stay away from Dick Grayson and anyone he associates with.” Peter blinked.

“What about Slade?”

“Yup.”

“And Babs? And Steph?” If Barbara Gordon knew Dick Grayson, then it was likely that Stephanie Brown knew him too.

“Them too. We’re going to move. Mista J won’t mind. We’ll move closer to the border, nearer Canada and-” she continued muttering, more to herself than Peter, but Peter had enough.

“Harley, we can’t move. I can’t move. I have two jobs and other commitments. I can’t just drop everything and move.” Harley gave him a desperate look.

“But-” He cut her off.

“But nothing, Harls. I know you’re worried. I knew he was dangerous the minute I met him. I can take care of myself. I’m much stronger than you think I am.” His friend didn’t move for a few moments, staring into his completely serious face and then deflated.

“I just worry,” she murmured, apology evident in her tone. Peter walked around the kitchen counter to hug his friend, who embraced him just as tightly.

“I know you do.” The hug lasted for a few more minutes, both basking in the comfort of the other before it was time for Peter to leave. He grabbed his coat off one of the small chairs at a round dinner table and said his goodbyes.

“Be safe!” Harley called after him as he left her apartment. He waved back with assurances he would be careful. He chose to walk, despite the cold and damp weather, seeing as his bank account couldn’t suffer anymore in terms of small spendings. ‘Besides,’ he reasoned with himself, ‘I need some more exercise.’

It was about 30 minutes later that he finally reached the shelter, his coat somewhat damp. Entering the door, and feeling some warmth descend upon him made him want to groan in relief. However, after that feeling had passed, another, colder feeling lay itself upon him like a blanket. Something was wrong. Peter looked around, trying to see any potential dangers but there were none he could see or hear.

Walking swiftly, Peter reached his cot, still eyeing his environment in suspicion. When he still found nothing out of the ordinary, he finally looked down on his cot to see a single white rose and an envelope sitting across his now neatly made cot. Someone had been there and messed with it. The thought made him shiver and with shaking hands he picked up the rose in one hand and the envelope in the other. He peeled the flap and opened it to see the contents. Two small, folded slips of paper sat inside.

‘Sort of anticlimactic,’ Peter thought, his face filled with confusion. He pulled out the larger of the two slips of paper, and unfolded it. And then proceeded to drop everything in his hands. The rose, the envelope and the check for $100,000 fell quietly onto his cot. His wide eyes stared down at the pale piece of paper.

‘What the fuck,’ he thought with shock. Then he remembered that there was another piece of paper in the envelope. Taking the envelope in hand, he tucked the check inside and pulled out the other slip. Unfolding it, he saw that it was a note.

‘The first of many. -D.G.’

The envelope once again fell from his hands, and Peter felt another wave of emotion crash over him. However, this time, it wasn’t shock or fear. No, it was rage.

‘Motherfucker.’

Previous: Part 1 

Next: Part 3