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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Stalker X Stalker, Part 8

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Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo

Tim woke up the next morning, because that’s how things work.

He fought back a groan as he slowly flexed each muscle individually, making sure that everything was still working. To his surprise, it actually was. His brain stuttered to a stop. Why had he been asleep, then? He was pretty sure it wasn’t his usual sleep day…

Then, he finally processed the fact that his face was pressed to something that definitely wasn’t his pillow.

He cracked an eye open. He was laying on top of Marinette, head resting on her stomach. She was still asleep, he noted, one of her hands was thrown over her eyes and the other tangled in his hair.

He vaguely considered just staying there. He could stay in that position forever…

Except he couldn’t. He had responsibilities. He was pretty sure that if he skipped both patrols and work his family would assume he’d been brainwashed in some way.

So, reluctantly, he pushed himself up and reached a hand out to poke Marinette awake.

She grumbled a little and caught his hand, blinking her eyes open. She looked up at him for a moment, uncomprehending in her sleepy state, and he couldn’t help but smile. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before clambering away from their tangle of limbs so he could take a quick shower and get ready.

First, though, he started up the coffee machine. He’d known that she’d had coffee, he’d been there when she bought it... but, really, if she was worried enough to lie about it he’d at least try and alleviate those fears a little.

That done, he took a quick shower. He already had a towel and toothbrush at the house -- wow, Marinette really wasn’t joking, he had basically moved in already, oops -- so he used those.

Then he pulled on the outfit she’d made him. By the time he needed help lacing up the corset, Marinette had stumbled into the room in a daze.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello?”

She held out one of two mugs for him and he was forced to hide his smile behind his cup.

“Could you help me with this,” he asked.

She nodded and downed her entire mug before walking behind him. He felt her forehead tip forward to rest against the back of his shoulder as she worked and he was very glad she couldn’t see his face because he was sure that he was beginning to get redder than their costumes.

She pulled the lace tight and tied it off and he had no clue if the tightness in his chest was because she had laced him too tightly or because of nerves but either way he didn’t really mind. He turned back around, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll see you later?”

She smiled at him. “I’ll make some bacon for you to eat on the go. Don’t want you to be hungry.”

He considered saying no but, really, he didn’t see her all that often in the morning and he had to admit that it was pretty cute. “If you remember to make some for yourself then sure.”

She hummed a little and turned around to go make food. He’d check on her in a few minutes to make sure she hadn’t fallen back asleep while cooking.

For now, he absently checked his clothes over for bugs. It was an old habit from years of living with the bats and, had he been even slightly more awake, he wouldn’t have done it.

Except he did. And there, hidden in the cuff of his shirt, was a bug.

… he hadn’t even been this happy when Damian had bugged him for the first time. She cared about him and his well-being! He was accepted!

When he made his way back into the kitchen he made sure to give her a long hug.

Marinette was so tired. She had been working on attaching the diamonds to Cassandra Wayne’s dress and there were so fucking many.

So, when Robin climbed through her window, all she did was give a vague wave of acknowledgement.

“You need better window locks,” he informed her.

“Most people don’t know how to pick every lock in existence, kid.”

“But some do.”

She thought about whether or not she really wanted this to be the argument that took up valuable work time. The answer was no, definitely not.

She finally turned to face him, resting her cheek against the couch. She didn’t know Damian personally outside of messing with Tim when they were in their superhero identities, she wasn’t even completely sure that this was Damian (though he did match up with the measurements she had for his outfits), so there was no good reason for him to be there.

She squinted suspiciously at him. Now that she was paying attention, she could see that he had his hands behind his back.

“What do you want?”

“I saw on your lease that you are allowed to have pets in your apartment.”

Oh no.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” she whispered, her voice close to begging.

He slowly brought his hands out from behind his back to reveal a black cat with almost luminous green eyes. She rested her head in her hands, taking deep breaths to remain calm.

“I wish to coparent with you.”

“... your dad didn’t let you get another pet?”

(Yes, she knew about the pet problem. She had seen Batcow. She had seen the Batbats all over the cave that he had apparently taken in.)

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Possibly.”

She slowly lifted her head from her hands to glare at him. Unfortunately for her, he puffed out his little baby cheeks in a pout and, even if most of what she did was played up to mess with Tim, she was weak for little kids that look sad.

“Fine. But you’re paying for everything and you better actually help me take care of it.”

“She! And her name is Vanelope!”

“Van --?” She decided she didn’t care. She glanced at Damian’s still disapproving expression and rolled her eyes before leaning down to be at the cat’s eye level: “I’m sorry for calling you an ‘it’, Vanelope.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied by her begrudging apology.

“C’mon, put Vanelope down, we’re going to the pet store.”

Damian beamed. She pulled the front of his hood down over his eyes in retaliation for the dumb situation he’d put her in. Revenge achieved, she transformed and ducked out her window before she could get stabbed.

Scarecrow’s parties were always the best.

For one thing, there was the haunted house. Scarecrow took the whole ‘scaring people’ thing very seriously, it was his whole shtick, so you could always count on him to dream up the best haunted houses. Even better, he’d give out brownies laced with minute traces of fear toxin to make the whole thing just a little bit scarier.

Speaking of brownies: the food. Tim was pretty sure that some of the stuff served at the parties could rival the things Marinette and Alfred made.

Then there were the venues he picked. They had to get bigger every year, what with Bruce’s adoption problem and the Rogue’s ever-expanding roster. This year the man had rented out an entire park and the building nearby. The building had a dance floor and a kind of second floor that overlooked everyone. The park held all the people that the building could not.

Add in the fact that every single person was probably clinically insane in some way or another and you’d have the reason for why he was always excited to go.

Tim attended the party as a Red Robin employee. He had to, it was on brand.

Marinette raised her eyebrows when she saw him. She’d gotten there before him, which had been a little bit of a surprise. He’d thought she’d at least wait for a few vigilantes to come to make sure it was safe --.

Oh. Nevermind. He stifled a grin when his eyes landed on a blonde in an outfit he recognized as Cassie’s. He was pretty sure dressing up as Wonder Girl was betraying the bats but he wasn’t going to be the one to call Steph out on it. Cassie was pretty cool...

Cassie -- no, Steph -- was suddenly grabbed by the arm by an excited Marinette and pulled her over to him. Marinette was wearing a pirate costume and he suspected that the bottle of wine in her free hand was more than an accessory.

“Red Robin, yum~,” both women chorused.

He rolled his eyes. “They’ve infected you already. Soon you’ll be disappearing into the shadows without ending conversations.”

Marinette grinned, the corner of her mask (now tinted black in some places to mimic a pirate’s beard) twitching. “It’s about time you assholes got a taste of your own medicine.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Y’know, for someone who didn’t like the idea of the party before, you sure did get into your outfit.’

“Please, I put effort into all my outfits.”

“Except for the Ladybug one,” teased Steph.

She huffed. “I was on a time crunch --.”

Tim grinned. “That’s no excuse.”

“... you had thought about it for who knows how long and not only did you come up with the name Drake, but you also came up with an ugly brown outfit. You don’t get a say in this.”

Steph grinned. “And me?”

“Your outfits are okay,” said Marinette after a few second’s thought.

Tim gasped in mock offense. “And I thought we were friends.”

“Friends call each other out for their stupid fashion choices.”

Steph smirked and slung her arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “And, really, you need an intervention.”

When did they start ganging up on Tim?

“Whatever. This outfit is nice, so that makes up for all past mistakes.”

“It’d be nicer if you didn’t make the same joke every year,” Steph teased.

He huffed and pouted, but then something caught his eyes. Dick had arrived, Tim could see him perched on a second floor railing in his work clothes… of course, the name tag marking him as Nurse Grayson was gone, but it was still the same light blue scrubs.

He paled a little under his domino for two reasons. The first was the instantaneous worry about their identities; sure, Gotham had many medical workers, but who knows, Gotham and Bludhaven twitter both insisted that Dick had a very distinct body. The second was Marinette was going to end up liking Dick quite a lot -- she already looked up to him for his fighting style, there was no way she was going to be able to resist the signature Grayson charm that had won over every superhero, vigilante, and villain on Earth (and a few other planets as well).

He knew that, inevitably, Dick would win her over… but he was definitely going to stall it as much as he possibly could.

So, he pulled a grin to his face. “Oh, Ladybug, you haven’t gone in the haunted house yet, have you?”

She gave him a slightly wary look. “I don’t do good with scary things.”

He grinned. “I’ll protect you.”

She raised her eyebrows slightly before sighing. “Fine.”

So, they made their way across the park to the haunted house. Scarecrow had, somehow, built an entire house in the one month since he had broken out of Arkham. It looked like it had been torn right out of a video game, with the blackened, decaying, and peeling wood and rickety steps.

Jonathan Crane smiled when he saw the two of them approaching. He was dressed as a scarecrow, but the one from the Wizard of Oz instead of the creepy one he was usually dressed as.

“Crane!” Tim greeted.

Crane held out the plate of fear toxin brownies for them. “Nice to see you, Red Robin. And nice to meet you, Ladybug.”

Marinette blushed a little, her head tipping to the side. “I’d shake your hand but you haven’t set down that tray the entire time I’ve been here. Starting to think you can’t.”

He laughed a little. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

Tim smiled a little and popped a brownie in his mouth. Fear toxin tasted a lot like chili powder and, he had to admit, it was pretty good.

Marinette took a brownie with a lot more hesitance.

“Oh! Have you been exposed to fear toxin yet?” Asked Crane before she could take a bite.

Marinette looked a little worried about the use of the word ‘yet’.

Marinette shook her head, though. “No.”

“Then your immunity isn’t built up. I’d suggest just eating half of that.”

She nodded thoughtfully and broke the brownie in half. She held the halves in her hand awkwardly, unsure what to do now.

“I’ll take the half you haven’t eaten,” suggested Crane.

He set down the tray -- Tim swore he could hear a cartoon sound effect as the man struggled to unstick his hand to the metal -- and took her other half.

“Since it’s a lower dose it’ll probably take longer to take effect,” said Tim. “We’ll have to wait a bit so you can have the full experience.”

Marinette took a tentative bite and her eyes lit up. “This is really good. What’s your recipe?”

Apparently, Crane had once tried to replicate the taste with normal chili powder and had fallen short. Tim watched the two of them theorize what it could be that his attempts had been missing. It was clear that Marinette had missed living in a bakery more than she was willing to admit and, unfortunately, none of the bats were particularly good at even cooking basic meals, let alone the kinds of things she was able to do. Alfred was the only exception and, even then, Bruce wouldn’t let him near her most of the time because of Identity Reasons. Tim was glad that she had someone to talk to about it, he just kinda wished that that person wasn’t a Rogue.

Tim jolted out of watching them when Marinette started rubbing up and down her arms absently. Ah, the toxin must be setting in for her now.

“Ladybug, ready to head inside?”

She blinked and looked up from the conversation. “Oh. Sure. I’ll talk to you later!”

“I’ll try not to get thrown into Arkham by anyone else while you’re gone,” joked Crane.

Tim grinned and took Marinette’s hand, pulling her inside.

It turns out she actually wasn’t all that good with scary things. Or, at least, jumpscares. She clung to his arm, dull nails doing their best to dig into his skin.

On one hand, he kind of felt bad for telling her to come along. On the other hand he thought it was kind of cute, maybe the next movie they watched together could be a horror.

He would probably be able to enjoy it a little more if he wasn’t tripping out on fear toxin himself. There was a creepy little girl following them around and he wasn’t going to acknowledge her and her creepy little white clothes because talking to hallucinations is always bad.

But then, towards the end, she disappeared.

He didn’t like that either. It set him on edge. It shouldn’t, the fear toxin was just wearing off… but he didn’t feel like it was wearing off. He was still a little shaky and the buzzing under his skin was still present, so maybe she’d been real and something was up.

He got his answer when he heard the sound of little feet dashing overhead.

Marinette squeaked and her grip on his arm tightened, somehow.

When the end was in sight and Tim was waiting anxiously for the final scare, he heard someone running towards them. High pitched laughter echoed around them.

“Oh fuck no,” he yelped when he saw the little girl running towards them, arms outstretched, pretty white dress splattered with red.

Marinette seemed to agree with the sentiment. She nearly pulled his arm out of its socket as she pushed herself into a sprint. He stumbled awkwardly a few steps before catching his footing and returning the tight grip.

And then, like the vigilantes with nerves of steel they were, they ran from the child.

She tried to look calm when the door swung shut behind them. She was pretty good at managing her emotions, she thought (or, at least, good at pushing them down).

But it wasn’t necessary because, when they reached the safety of the outside, they were handed a framed picture of them sprinting away from the creepy little girl, horror written plainly on their faces.

She blushed, more than a little embarrassed.

Thankfully, she was quickly distracted from her embarrassment. Her eyes landed on Bruce, who was dressed as a vampire. She waved for his attention, intending to point out the similarities in their outfits to mess with him, only for his eyes to zero in on the wine bottle in her hand.

Marinette mumbled a curse.

She turned and pressed a ‘kiss’ to Tim’s cheek through her mask. “Gotta go,” she chirped, before promptly disappearing into the crowd.

Alright, time to avoid Bruce. Where is the last place she’d be? Actually, no, he’d probably check the last place...

Her eyes landed on where Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn were hanging out by the drinks.

Hm... a negative (people she was wary about) and a positive (drinks!) to balance each other out. A good middle ground.

She walked over and picked up a weird drink with a lot of different candies sticking out of it. She did not know why Scarecrow felt the need to sully the good name of alcohol with American candies but, since it was apparently the only option, she slipped a straw under her mouth to drink.

The drink was taken from her fingers.

She looked at her now-empty hand, brain struggling to catch up, straw hanging limply from her mouth. Then she spat out the straw and cursed.

She slowly turned to look at the person who had stolen it from her, expecting to see a disappointed Bruce, only to meet eyes with Poison Ivy.

(Ivy had dressed up as a stereotypical martian. Marinette wondered, vaguely, if actual aliens were ever offended when people dressed up like the movie versions of them.)

“I’d like that back, thanks,” she said, reaching for the drink.

She held it out of reach -- holy shit she was tall -- and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. “You’re a child.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Exactly: a child,” she said.

Marinette rolled her eyes. Was this how Damian felt? Damn, no wonder he was always so angry about it… but, to be fair, Damian actually was a child. She was nineteen. She had a job and an apartment. Completely different.

But, since convincing Ivy she wasn’t a child wasn’t working, she had to come up with a new approach: “I’ve been drinking since I was six.”

For some reason, this didn’t seem to soothe the woman in front of her.

Thankfully, Harley Quinn -- who was wearing a knockoff Riddler costume -- decided to take pity on her: “Let her drink, Ives, Europeans drink differently than we do.”

Marinette and Poison Ivy exchanged confused looks. Marinette hadn’t gone out drinking with anyone properly in America outside of occasionally dropping into bars to trick old men into giving her drinks and then disappearing. Poison Ivy just, apparently, wasn’t aware of the difference.

“For them it’s a social thing, they don’t really get drunk like we do.”

Ivy hesitated. “You don’t get drunk?”

“I mean… we can get drunk,” she said slowly. She cringed visibly. “I did, once. The day I turned eighteen my mom told me ‘Just this once, to see what it’s like’... the pictures… they deleted them, but I will never live it down...”

She reached for the drink again and, this time, Ivy gave it to her. She was lucky she had her mask to hide the smirk on her face.

When Poison Ivy didn’t leave after that, Marinette knit her eyebrows together. The woman blushed (she blushed green?) and Harley pushed her towards Marinette a step.

“I would like to apologize for how we met…” Ivy said slowly. “Joker was an asshole in Arkham and I’d had a fight with Harley and I guess I just…” She snapped her fingers.

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “It’s fine. It’s not the first world-ending event I’ve had to stop because someone had had a bad day.”

Harley hesitated. “That’s… different.”

She shrugged. “New city, same shit… just sometimes easier, I guess. People are actually scared of Joker?”

“Now, that isn’t very nice!” Said a painfully cheery voice behind her.

She’d summoned him.

Marinette took a long, deep breath, before turning around to greet Joker and Punchline. They were dressed as circus clowns, because of course they would. “Hey! Still alive, I see.”

Joker smiled, like he always did. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Pretty sure you’ve died more than B-man over there,” said Harley.

“No clue why they keep bringing you back.”

Marinette’s eyebrows scrunched together. The man had died? And they had brought him back? Willingly? Weird.

“It’s ‘cause I’m Batsy’s favorite,” cooed Joker.

“Favorite punching bag, maybe,” said Ivy.

Marinette, wisely, decided to back up a step so she wasn’t between the two fighting groups.

“At least people pick him as their first choice,” said Punchline.

“You’d be the expert on what it’s like to be the second choice, I guess, since you’re just me but purple,” said Harley.

“I’m you but self-aware,” Punchline corrected her.

Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Some would say that’s worse.”

Punchline almost punched her.

She didn’t stop because of some amazing show of self-restraint, of course. Nightwing had just chosen that moment to drop down between the two groups. And then Nightwing, with his all-amazing powers of getting pretty much everyone on his side, got them to declare a truce and go to opposite sides of the room.

Marinette was a little disappointed as she took a sip of her drink. It had just started getting good.

But also: Nightwing!

“Is it true that you can do a quadruple somersault?”

Nightwing smiled widely.

Tim was beginning to think that maybe Marinette was so interested in Dick because she was secretly his long lost sister or something. They had the same ability to make even some of the worst people like them.

But, no. Dick having a secret half sister or something? How stupid would that be?

Still, Tim had seen her making friends with: all of his siblings that lived in Gotham, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Dick (damn it, he’d hoped he could keep them apart just a little longer)... the only people she hadn’t gotten to like her were Punchline and Joker, and even then she was choosing to annoy them, who knows what would happen if she actually tried to befriend them… and now she was hanging out with Riddler...

He sat next to them on their bench. “I’m beginning to think you can’t make friends with anyone normal.”

She grinned. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

Riddler (dressed as the gameshow host he would probably be if he hadn’t gone off the deep end) looked over at Tim with barely hidden disdain. “Red Robin,” he greeted coolly.

Marinette frowned. “Why don’t you like him?”

“Him and all the bats… they always answer my riddles before I finish telling them.”

“Well, that’s an easy fix: Red, wait until he finishes telling the riddles before answering.”

He scoffed. “Why would I?”

“For the drama!” Riddler said in a tone that made it obvious he thought it was obvious.

“Half the time you have people’s lives on the line. Lower the stakes and maybe we’ll be more attuned to the dramatic tension.”

Riddler scowled. “You bats just don’t appreciate my art.”

“You’d think that they’d be all for drama.”

“Right? They have a whole brooding cave! But I want high stakes and suddenly I’m too concerned with the vibes of things.”

Marinette grinned and leaned towards Riddler conspiratorially. “They have more than a brooding cave. They have brooding gargoyles, brooding rooftops, brooding cars… I once caught Red over there brooding on his motorbike. Who can brood on a motorcycle? It’s a motorcycle!”

Tim huffed. “I thought we agreed to keep that a secret.”

“Sorry, darling, it’s just too easy to mess with you.”

Tim started to respond, but then he realized something.

‘Darling’?

That could mean one of three things. He needed to excuse himself from the conversation to figure out which was the truth.

He sent the two of them a halfhearted glare. “I will not put up with this bullying any longer.”

“Fine, fine. If you’re going to come back, bring me a cookie.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “If I must.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, a man on a mission.

After questioning all of the family she had talked to (she had yet to meet Jason, apparently), he determined that she didn’t use nicknames all that often. When she did it was usually just to make things quicker for herself. The only people outside of him that she ever used nicknames for were Bruce (‘B’) and maybe Damian (‘kid’).

And he had a nickname like that, too, of course. She called him ‘Red’ from time to time, probably just because she was too lazy to go through the hassle of saying his entire codename.

… but ‘darling’ was different. He had a pet name. In both identities, apparently.

Which meant one of two things:

a) he was special to her in both identities

or b) she knew he was Red Robin.

He was kinda hoping for the first one, but he wasn’t about to let emotions cloud his judgement. He sought out the world’s only accurate lie detector.

He found her surveying the crowd with Jason. They looked like they’d been transported directly from the renaissance, with her plague doctor outfit and his Shakespeare costume.

Tim grinned at them despite his slight anxiety. “Nice of you to bring a Green Arrow costume back from Star City, Flamebird.”

Jason touched the ugly goatee and mustache that both of them shared before sending him a glare. “And you all wonder why I don’t come home more often.”

“Really? I thought it was because you and Roy were --.”

Jason’s face reddened with either anger or embarrassment, Tim didn’t know and didn’t particularly care as his brother left them in a huff.

He couldn’t see Cass’s face but he could feel the disapproval.

“I just… I wanted to ask you something in private…”

Cass didn’t leave, so he assumed it was okay.

“Does Ladybug know our identities?”

Cass was motionless for a moment and he wished she didn’t have such a bulky outfit because it was hard to get a read on her…

And then she nodded, tapping the side of her forehead (the sign for ‘know’) to further emphasize the point.

He looked down at where Marinette was excitedly describing something to an enthused Riddler.

He’d been anxious about her finding out but, now that she had, he found that it was a huge weight off his shoulders. She knew who he was and she accepted it.

He leaned against the railing, a smile threatening to make its way across his face.

She accepted him.

#stalker x stalker #maribat #timari #timmari #shutterbug #timinette #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #it isn't important but #duke went as miles morales's spiderman #damian went as batman #also pediatric nurse!dick grayson lives in my head rent free

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hood-ex · 4 years ago

Text

Dick stares at the ceiling of his darkened bedroom for what feels like forever before the alarm on his phone starts going off. The Backstreet Boys song that Babs had set as his default alarm fills the room with a chorus of, “Everybody! Rock your body right! Backstreet's back alright!”

He normally tries to shut the obnoxious song up as soon as it goes off, but, well, there isn’t really anything normal about Dick’s current situation, and he figures that letting the song play out for a little longer than usual might curb his feelings of homesickness.

It fades into background noise as he flings off the covers and rolls out of bed, wincing as his bare feet meet the chilled wood floor. He blindly turns in the direction of the Alexa device and—wait. It’s called Cora in this universe, not Alexa.

Right.

“Cora, turn on Dick’s bedroom lights,” he says to the small white device that’s sitting on the bedside table. Cora glows green to indicate that she heard the demand, and the lights flicker on immediately.

Dick squints at the sudden brightness and stumbles his way into the bathroom for a piss and a quick shower. It takes him all of ten minutes to finish. After he dries his hair with a towel, he heads to the closet and surveys the small selection of clothes that are all in his size but aren’t actually his. That’s made obvious by the fact that all the shirts are neutral colored, many of the pants are ripped at the knees, and any form of outerwear consists mostly of hoodies.

At 27-years-old, Dick can’t imagine himself wearing ripped jeans. He knows from what Alfred told him when he arrived here that this universe’s Dick is only 19. Still, even when Dick was that age, he’d been wearing outfits that were considered more fashionable.

He figures the casual wear has something to do with the fact that this universe’s Alfred and Bruce are way more laid back in both manner and appearance than his own. Just yesterday, Bruce had been wandering around the kitchen in nothing but briefs and a t-shirt, something Dick's Alfred would definitely not have been pleased about.

He grins at the memory and surveys his options one last time before pulling on some light wash jeans and a beige colored Stussy shirt. He goes for a watch next—this Dick is apparently a watch guy because he’s got like six of them—and while he’s in the middle of fastening it to his wrist, he’s startled by Cora suddenly glowing green and emanating the sound of a bell ringing.

Alfred’s pre-recorded voice then comes through the speaker and says, “Breakfast is ready. Please make your way downstairs before it gets cold.”

Dick has to admit that out of all the things that are different about this alternate universe, having Alfred take full advantage of Cora’s abilities is one of the most amusing. Also, weirdly convenient. He’ll have to see about teaching Alfie how to use Alexa when he gets back home.

The Backstreet Boys are finally silenced once Dick turns off the alarm. He shoves his phone in his pocket before following the heavenly scent of food towards the kitchen.

The first thing he sees when he walks in is Bruce is sitting at the table with a tablet, no doubt reading this morning’s news. He’s already dressed in a black polo with the Wayne Enterprises crest embroidered on the breast. It’s tucked into a pair of gray trousers that are nicely tapered and draw attention to his suede penny loafers. Bruce’s hair is already neatly styled into place, and as Dick takes a seat across from him at the table, the smell of spicy cologne hits his nose. He can’t help but feel a little sad that the cologne isn’t the same as what his Bruce wears.

Bruce sets the tablet to the side when Dick finally settles in his seat. His soft blue eyes roam over Dick’s face in a way that Dick’s come to be familiar with since landing in this universe. He figures it’s because he looks a little different than 19-year-old Dick and that Bruce is probably curious about what his boy will look like in eight years. Either that or he just misses his kid in the same way Dick misses his Bruce.

“Morning, Dick,” Bruce greets with a smile, his tone rather chipper.

Bruce’s upbeat attitude and smiles had thrown Dick off when he’d first arrived in this universe, not having seen his own Bruce act like that since it was just the two of them against the world.

“Good morning, Master Dick,” Alfred greets while he gathers two plates from the marble island in the middle of the kitchen. He’s decked out in his white apron which looks pristine as always.

“Morning,” Dick says. He reaches for the carton of milk in the middle of the table and carefully pours it into the glass that’s been preset next to his placemat.

Alfred swoops in with the two plates and places one in front of Dick and the other in front of Bruce. Dick nearly curses in excitement when he sees what it is.

“A full English breakfast, Alf? Aw, you shouldn’t have,” he says, and his stomach rumbles loudly as if telling him to shut up and just eat. “But I’m so glad you did.”

“Me too,” Bruce says, having already taken a bite out of a sausage. “Thanks, Alfred. This is great.”

Dick hums in agreement and quickly works on lathering his bread with some of the beans, meat, and eggs.

“Thank you, sirs. I figured Master Dick might like it, seeing as he mentioned it’s something my counterpart enjoys making.”

“You figured right,” Dick says after he finishes swallowing a mouthful. “Back home, I’d eat one of these plates so fast that Alfie would get all Shakespeare on me.” With a switch in accent and tone, Dick imitates Alfred and says, “‘He hath eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his!’”

Something like pride fills his chest when both Bruce and Alfred’s faces scrunch up in laughter. Bruce’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and Alfred covers his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement.

Dick’s just glad they have something like Shakespeare to relate to even though he knows that this universe's William Shakespeare only wrote half the number of plays that are in Dick’s universe. Not seeing the recognition on Bruce and Alfred’s faces when he had quoted Romeo and Juliet at them the other night had broken his heart if only because it’s quoted frequently in his family.

“Sounds like Alfred alright,” Bruce grins.

“I’ll have to save that for when our Master Dick returns,” Alfred says, looking both fond and sad at the reminder of his missing boy.

“He’ll get a kick out of it,” Bruce nods, looking equally as wistful.

Dick shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the blatant display of affection for his counterpart. He can’t help but wonder if he’s being missed just as strongly back home. If he is, he’s sure it’s not being expressed as openly as this. Well, he likes to think that Babs, Tim, and Damian might have something to say about it in their own ways.

Alfred clears his throat to dispel the sudden quiet that falls over them. “Excuse me, sirs. I’ll be eating my own breakfast in the other room.”

“Going to catch up on watching You Just Got Served?” Bruce asks knowingly.

“What’s that?” Dick asks.

“A morning gossip show in the UK,” Bruce says, taking a sip of his coffee to no doubt hide his smirk from Alfred’s piercing gaze.

“Gossip,” Alfred practically scoffs as if offended by the idea that he could ever find such a thing enjoyable. He grabs his plate and cup of tea from the counter, and before he leaves the kitchen, Dick hears him mutter, “If I wanted to be entertained by gossip of all things then I would spend my days reading tabloids with your face plastered across them, Master Bruce.”

“Ohhh, burn!” Dick cackles while mentally high fiving Alfred and his quick tongue.

Bruce cocks an eyebrow. “Burn?”

Right. Universe differences.

“Where I’m from it’s something you say when someone else gets mocked or teased but, like, in a playful way.”

“Oh,” Bruce says quietly, eyes raised to the ceiling like he’s thinking. “I don’t know if we have a word like that here. I’ll have to ask Dick when he’s back.”

Dick hums in acknowledgment and falls quiet. His mind is a little occupied by all the food that’s still sitting in front of him, and he can tell that Bruce is the same way. Both of them are happy to sit in comfortable silence while they finish off the majority of their meals.

It’s only when Dick is washing most of it down with his milk that Bruce suddenly asks, “You sleep okay, Chum?”

Dick pauses at the question. Not because Bruce refers to him by the same nickname that his own Bruce calls him on occasion, but because the nickname is said with a soft look that Dick hasn’t seen on his own Bruce’s face in god knows when. He’s not sure what prompted the question, but he guesses he must look a bit rough for Bruce to bring it up.

“Kind of,” Dick admits with a shrug. He places his glass back on the table and then continues to dig into the scraps on his plate.

“Nightmares?” Bruce prods after chewing a mouthful of baked beans. His eyes are trained on Dick, and they’re unguarded in a way that his Bruce’s rarely are. It’s obvious he’s concerned, and Dick feels slightly touched that this Bruce who isn’t his dad is worried about him.

Dick’s fringe flops in his face when he shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “My mind just wouldn’t shut up.”

Bruce hums. “Thinking about home?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighs. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair. “Mostly just thinking about what I’m going to do if things go wrong in my universe and my Bruce isn’t able to implement the protocol.”

The protocol in this particular situation, as Dick had explained to Bruce the first night he showed up in this universe, involves a ten day wait period. He’s to standby and wait for his Bruce to get either Zatanna or Doctor Fate to open a dimensional portal to take Dick home. If they don’t come within the first ten days of Dick’s arrival, Dick is supposed to seek out the closest thing this universe has to a magic user.

On one hand, Dick is lucky that he ended up in a universe that has a non-hostile Batman who’s willing to help him. On the other hand, he’s completely fucked in that this universe’s Zatanna is on a deep space mission and isn’t due to return for another month. The League is also apparently not on good terms with Doctor Fate here, and while it’s not out of the question that they can eventually get him to help, Dick’s been told that it will be extremely difficult.

Dick knows that Bruce has already been looking into other options, desperate to get his own Dick Grayson back. For now, they’re mostly relying on Dick’s Bruce to make a successful swap.

“We’ll figure it out, Chum,” Bruce says with a comforting smile. “Worst case scenario, we wait a month for my Zatanna to get back.”

Dick bites his lip. “And if she dies on the mission?”

Bruce’s face shifts into a closed off expression that’s familiar to Dick but looks weirdly out of place on this Bruce's face. “Like I said… we’ll figure it out.”

Dick's mouth twists into a frown at the answer that is, frankly, not good enough for him. The only thing that keeps him from pushing the issue further is that he can tell Bruce isn’t satisfied with his answer either.

Dick decides to back off… for now.

#Dick Grayson #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #dimension travel #my fic

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 5 years ago

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Luckiest thing (Drabble)

Warnings: none, except maybe shitty writing tbh Word count: 1,5k Summary: On the fourth of July you have a little surprise for your husbands family

Requested by my amazing @sirkekselord: Hello my wife. Because you never write my fucking things I ask you on Whatsapp... Here I am. Just give me some Jason fluff after what you have done to me. Making me cry twice. Him happy, having a wife and a happy family. Give me the family life. Domestic stuff. Batfam being the great batfam they should be! I am done. So done. Also I'm not gonna ask you on Whatsapp this and I won't look at the fandom list but will you make an exception and write for Eddie Brock? If you don't? Love you sunshine. ♥

A/N: Two things: first, I don’t live in America and have never celebrated fourth of july so this is all just how I imagine it, second: since Gotham is a rather special place, in my fanon lore for this fanfiction there is a city wide ban on all kind of firecrackers and rockets.

It was strange, really, how on almost every other day of the year, no matter if holiday or not, Gotham's villains couldn't give two ducks about if it was a good time to rob a bank or try to bomb an orphanage, but on the week surrounding the fourth of July, the crime rate just dropped. Every year. So, with his family being busy most of the year and unable to remember the last time they all did something together, Bruce decided that it would be a good chance to have a little get-together at the manor. With that choice made, he notified the family and handed over the preparation to Alfred who relished in planning something other than a Gala or a ball or something that would happen again in less than a month. And he wasn't the only one who was more than happy about this possibility, no, when you answered Bruce's call and accepted his invitation you were over the moon. It would be the first time since the wedding that you and Jason would meet the majority of your husband's family in one spot and it was the perfect opportunity for a little surprise.

The few weeks between Bruce's call and the fourth of July passed in a flash and soon you stood in front of the kitchen island in the beautiful house in the outskirts of the city that Bruce had gifted you for your wedding, decorating the blue, red, white cupcakes with matching toppings and little edible stars on all of them except one, which just got a single, big, silver one. "We both know that Alfred will have more than enough food prepared, you're almost offending him when you bring something too," a husky, deep voice told you from behind you, sending a warm shiver down your spine. Along with the words were arms that found their way around your hips and pulled you against a broad, muscular chest. You sighed in content, comfortable as you could be against Jason. "I know, I know," you chuckled and smiled up at him, "But it's tradition to bring something along." Your husband playfully rolled your eyes before leaning down and kissing your forehead. "We should get going soon," you hummed and helped yourself out of Jason's arms, walking over to one of the shelf to get out a transport carrier for the cupcakes, making quick work as to place the inside, while Jason nodded and went into your bedroom to get his festive leatherjacket. When the sweets were stored, you walked over to a mirror in the hall, checking over your outfit. You were wearing a flowy, blue summer dress with red ballerinas and a small red bow in your hair. It was simple, but you felt really cute in it so you just nodded at your reflection and went back to get the carrier before going into the garage to fix it to Jason's motorcycle. "Are you sure we should take the Bike and not the car? I mean-" "Don't worry your pretty little head Jason," you threw him his helmet (a normal one) and started flexing you own, careful not to destroy your hair. Before he could protest again, you jumped onto the vehicle, patting the driver's seat in front of you. You could hear the small sigh that Jason made, but he obeyed and sat down, turning on the motor.

The garden of the manor (or rather the parts of the park-like surroundings that were close to one of the backdoors) looked astonishing. There was a table placed in the middle, decorated with a blue and white tablecloth and red plates and glasses (that Alfred must've extra bought for the occasion), on the trees that were near were little blue, red and white lampions, perfectly placed, along with little star fairy-lights, and on the side stood a rather pompous grill with Alfred standing behind it, wearing a 'The Grillfather' apron. The entire family was standing around in the area. Bruce and Dick were standing the closest, only a few feet away from the backdoor, chatting about something, Tim, Steph, Duke and Cass were sitting on garden chairs in the shadow of a tree and Damian was sitting on the grass, playing with Alfred the cat and Titus (or more like he was playing with Titus and Alfred was laying in the sun). When you and Jason came out in the garden, Alfred was first to notice and come to you. "Hello Master and Misses Todd," he said, winking at you slightly when you blushed at being called Misses Todd for one of the first times since the wedding by anyone besides Jay. "Hello, Alfie-" you pushed the carrier into Jason's arms and went to hug the man "-you really overdid yourself this time, it's beautiful." "Thank you very much," he smiled and you took your cupcakes out of Jason's arms again to give him a chance to hug his surrogate Grandfather. When they parted again, Jason gave you a small kiss on the cheek before going over to Dick and Bruce who were waving over to you. "What do you have here," Alfred said with a curious gaze directed to the box in your hands, prompting you to open it and show him the cupcakes with a smile. "I know you most likely have everything prepared already, but I couldn't help myself and bring something along." "Don't be silly darling," he laughed slightly and took the box out of your hands, "You can never cook enough when cooking for this family." You continued talking for a while before he turned to bring the cupcakes to another table beside the grill that was serving as a buffet and get back to the barbeque.

The noon turned into the evening and everything was going wonderful. For a while, you went around talking to everyone while Alfred and Damian were basically glued to your side, before Alfred called for dinner and everyone sat down at the table, Jason on your right and Damian on your left. The sun was already starting to set, the Lampions were turned on and much brighter than you'd expected when you remembered your little surprise. You poked Jason's thigh under the table to get his attention and he seemed to immediately understand what you meant, smiling at you with just a glimpse of excitement in your eyes. "I know we just ate Alfred's wonderful food, but I tried a little something new for my cupcakes and wondered if you would mind tasting them?" you asked and tilted your head slightly to the side while looking at the people around you and their unknowing faces. A choir of agreement answered you and you clapped into your hands, expectantly looking at your spouse who gave you a small 'Are-you-serious'-face before pushing his chair back to get the cupcakes and placing one in front of everyone. "Why does father get the special one," Damian huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, frowning at Bruce's cupcake that had the single big star on top of it. "Uhm...just because," you shrugged, aware of the thinness of that excuse. "Anyway, how about we all try on three yes? Okay," you averted the topic and continued the conversation. "One, two, three," Jason counted and on cue, everyone took a bite out of the little cakes, but your eyes were fixed on Bruce. At first, his face seemed to be very happy with the sweet and full taste, before it contorted in confusion. He pulled the cupcake away from his mouth and used his other to pull something out of it. "What the," he muttered, using his napkin to clean the object and reveal it to be a pacifier. For just a second his eyes were filled with complete confusion until they lit up with recognition. "Are you- Really-" he started and looked at you with almost tear-filled eyes attracting the attention of the others around him. "Yes," you nodded and felt tears also starting to fill your eyes, unconsciously setting your hand onto your stomach. "Whoa!"s and "What?"s filled the air until everyone understood what you and Bruce were talking about. "I'll be a grandfather," Bruce smiled proudly, running over to your side to pick you out of your chair and swirl you around. The rest of the night was filled with congratulations and people cluttering around you and Jason who soon started to slightly feel neglected with all the attention you were giving the people around you. At that moment you felt in the right place, you felt at peace and you knew, that almost running over Jason all these years ago, when you had first met him and almost immediately fell for him. was maybe the luckiest thing that could ever happen...

#Jason Todd #Jason todd x reader #domestic jadon todd #fourth of july #july4th #independenceday #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #drabble #fluff #Independence Day

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ladypyb · 5 years ago

Text

For Bread or For Worse

Rating: G

Relationship/s: USUK

Tags: Omegaverse, Cooking, and a lot of misunderstandings.

Day 3 of HetaliaXmasEvent: Christmas’s Costume / Christmas’s miracle / Christmas’s festival

|ao3|

(Gaaaaah, this is the first time that I’ve completed a fic on these two dorks! I hope you enjoy this little fic tho.)

As an alpha, it was Alfred's job is to protect his mate from all dangers. Even if that certain danger is Arthur's cooking.

Alfred loved Arthur, truly. He'd travel to the moon and back in a boat if he could. But in all things good and holy does the alpha want to prove his love by eating one of Arthur's kitchen spawn. Although he did just that in the first year of their relationship back in college. Alfred has an endearing-but-not-so-fond memory of having to be bedridden for a week and missing a regional robotics competition because he ate an English scone that he was sure to be the embodiment of the word 'death'. He swore it was hard and looked like a rock but then it was too underbaked in the inside. But he can't refuse the omega's expectant face as he hid his injured hands so Alfred gobbled it all up and then proceeded to get sick. And Arthur, the more stubborn of the two, refused to cook for his 'ungrateful arse' when the alpha admitted the truth about the cause.

That has become their arrangement. Alfred has been the one who cooks for both of them since then. He landed a job as a chef in a French restaurant owned by his older brother's mate, after all.

So there he was, taking out the third batch of his infamous heaven-sent gingerbread cookies while the omega sulked behind the counter. It was the first week of December and Arthur had a look of longing to whip something up in his eyes.

Three years into their relationship and six months of them being mates, Alfred was successful from distracting the other from the kitchen with an overall of two and a half years. DIstracted enough that the omega ordered him to bake him some 'biscuits'. A pleasant change from his sickly display and sudden picky eating (Arthur wasn't picky before).

The alpha placed the final batch inside and closed the oven with his foot. That earned him an eye-twitch from Arthur. "D'you wanna help me decorate these trees, sweetheart?"

"No." Arthur frowned and looked away from him and his cookies. Was he still sore about that? Alfred took off a mitten to turn the fan on. If it cools down the cookies, maybe it'll cool down the omega's temper. Arthur only grunted in response.

"You told me you wanted some gingerbread cookies. You were pouting, even. Want to take a bite?"

"Humph."

"C'mon, I worked real hard to suit them for your tastes, My Queen," Alfred took a cookie but immediately dropped it with a hiss, "Oh- Shit!" It was scalding hot! He forgot about that. Alfred began licking his wounded fingers.

Arthur stood up. Alfred thought he was coming over to fret over him like he always would but to his befuddlement, the other headed in the opposite direction.

"Wehw ya goin'?" Arthur only responded to his mate with a curt "Outside".

Yup. The alpha fetched a few icing pipes from the cupboard. Arthur was still sore about his comment years ago. He just hopes this wouldn't ruin their first Christmas together as mates.

________

Arthur's attitude toward him on the following week was like Maine's climate in Winter. Cold enough to freeze his balls. The fear of his mate cutting them off with scissors was then established when he saw him cutting pieces off of one of Alfred's dessert magazines in the middle of the night while muttering 'bollocks', 'chop off', 'shitty arse', and 'Alfred'. Which the alpha put together later on as 'Alfred that shitty arse, I'll chop off his bollocks...!'

He wasn't sure if that was what Arthur had said but it still was a well-founded fear.

________

Three weeks in December and three days before Christmas, Arthur's behavior didn't simmer down. It took a turn for worse. A worse worse that worried Alfred so much for his mate's condition.

If last week's description of Arthur was cold and neglectful, this week's was skittish and overly paranoid as if the snow on their porch would swallow him whole.

Arthur was always a weird type of person that bordered on the unnatural of the otherworld type. But hoarding a lot of bread in a cupboard for his tea, this was getting out of hand.

However, the alpha was hungry and was too tired to cook or order pizza so he might as well take a slice for a late-night snack. Putting a bit of butter from a gallon under their fridge- Why was Arthur hoarding these?!- on his sandwich, he leans back and observes the bread-infested cupboard above.

He nibbles on his sandwich. "Blech!"

What in the- The bread's gone stale! Alfred jumps up to his feet and began taking the loaves of bread from the kitchen cupboard.

Scouring. Scouring. And scouring. And then finally, he reaches the thing he has been trying to prevent for two years and a half. Arthur's kitchen spawn

________

Here they were, Alfred and Arthur in the living room with a baking dish between them. "Sweetheart," Alfred began, "So I found this in one of the cupboards. Care to share about it?"

Perhaps it was the sharpness of his tone that his mate's scent had gone sour and a bit bitter, and in turn Alfred switched from stern alpha into a ball of wrecked nerves. His voice went soft as he crossed over to the omega. "No, no, no. Art, I thought you were okay about the arrangement. Uh, I mean I didn't mean to suggest that you weren't allowed to which I didn't 'cause you're definitely allowed to! It's just that... "

Arthur's face remained stony but the moisture in his eyes and his scent gave him away. "I know, Alfred. You don't like my cooking." He said in gritted teeth, "My food will most likely make you sick. Besides the point, you're the chef between the two of us and you'd like to keep it that way."

"What? No!" The alpha balked at the accusation, "Well, yeah, I did get sick multiple times back then but that didn't stop you from making your scones for me."

"Scones? You called them rocks! Barely edible in context!" Arthur wiped his nose on his sleeve, drops of tears falling down his cheeks. "You dumped all those comments on our anniversary, too... "

Ah, shit. He hated seeing Arthur cry. He loathed himself when he knew it was his fault, too. Alfred embraced the omega and rubbed his back in soothing circles.

"Shh, Shh. Arthur... I'm really, really sorry if it made you feel that way." Alfred held his mate until he calmed down into little sniffles. "I love you, I'm really sorry. I'll eat it if it makes you happy."

He heard an intake of breath followed by the happiest pair of green eyes. His Arthur was too cute. How could he say no to that? Alfred nodded and Arthur took off to fetch utensils.

A piece of the dessert was on a fork and was already a few centimeters near his face. He looked back up to Arthur's expectant face that he never knew he missed. Well, maybe a little.

He took the fork from the other and studied it. Golden bread and a few raspberries and strawberries. "What did you say it was called?"

"Bread and Butter Pudding, my father used to make it for me on Christmastime."

Alfred made a noncommittal sound and braced himself. It went into his mouth.

Huh... Woah!!!

"MMM!!!"

Alfred began pointing at the dish with so much vigor. What was this? What was this? Chewy and soft. Was that a taste of brandy?! Sweet, too! Creamy, so creamy and smooth. It was serenading his tongue.

The alpha then moaned about the pudding until he realized had consumed about half of it. Delicious was an understatement.

"Wow."

"Wow, indeed. I spent the entirety of December perfecting the recipe, you know." Arthur never smiled any brighter than his charming smile right now this month and it made Alfred happy.

"Hey, sweetheart?" Alfred's grin was like the sun, it hurt to look at.

Arthur wasn't fazed at his mate's obvious elation and instead responded with pride. "Yes, love?"

"I just realized your baking became our Christmas miracle."

"..."

"Y'know, 'cause it was sudden and good and a surprise?"

Arthur didn't know how to respond to that comment.

He banned the alpha to sleep on the couch for the night.

"What possessed you to bake that pudding in the middle of the night, anyway?"

"Hm? Oh, I wanted to serve that while breaking the news to my father and your family. It's a tradition in my family to serve it."

"Wait... What news?"

"Wha... You didn't realize?"

"... Realize what?"

"Mood swings, morning sickness, strange cravings... I told you last month. You are aware that I have a bun in the oven for already seven weeks now, right...?"

"Wait, what?!"

#hetaliaxmasevent #my fanfic #usuk #aph america #aph England #omegaverse #abo dynamics #sfw fic #m|m

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thereifling · 6 years ago

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Batman and the JL: JL Christmas Party at Wayne Manor (aka 4am Fast Food pt. 2)

Alfred pulled the turkey from the oven. He breathed in the fresh scent sighing in satisfaction. Before placing the tray on the stove, the front door rang. Taking off the oven mittens he hastened to the door.

“Heya Jeeves!” Wally West stood outside tightly wrapped in a large coat and holding several pies. “Am I late?” He asked allowing himself in.

“On the contrary, you are early.”

“Woah, that never happens.” The red head laughed looking around for the kitchen. Alfred shut the door, keeping the December air out of the house, and ushered his guest to the living room. “So, where’s Bruce?” Wally inquired handing off his coat.

“Master Bruce is currently on patrol but will return shortly.” Alfred took the pies heading towards the kitchen. “Dinner will be served once everyone arrives.”

“Man, I’m so hungry I could eat a buffalo.” The front door rang again. “I’ll get it!” Wally rushed back swinging the large oak open to reveal Clark, Diana, and J’onn.

“Merry Christmas!” Clark beamed. The three of them trudged in carrying several bags and platters of food.

“Happy holidays Wally.” Diana undid her coat placing it on the rack with the rest of theirs. She gazed passed him frowning. “Where’s Bruce?”

“Master Bruce is currently on patrol.” Alfred suddenly appeared making Wally jump. He took the bags and the pie in Clark’s hand.

“It’s ma’s pie!” Clark exclaimed. “And here, let me take some of that.” He followed Alfred back to the kitchen. Diana, J’onn, and Wally made their way to the lounge settling in the cushions. They sat there in silence, feeling very awkward. Diana swore she saw Wally speed around the house several times but continued twiddling her thumbs.

“Is it not customary-” J’onn suddenly spoke up. “-for the host to be present when his guests arrive?” Wally laughed at that.

“It is, but we’re talking about Bats here.”

“I do wish he could take one night of rest.” Diana sighed

“Yeah well, he better get here soon, I’m starving!” The speedster flumped down on the couch beside her with a huff. Diana smiled sympathetically towards him.

“Perhaps we should help the process further and head to the kitchen?” J’onn suggested.

“Hey everyone!” Clark’s voice abruptly hollered from the hall. “I hear the car coming in from the cave. He’s here so we can eat!” Wally hadn’t run that fast in a very long time.

Bruce laid another sample on the flask peering into the microscope. Coming out of the car he hadn’t bothered to remove the cowl and immediately set to work. Bruce had been working tirelessly for the past three weeks to get this sample and a new burst of determination bubbled up inside. Setting a new flask in, footsteps could be heard coming near.

“What is it Alfred?” Bruce deadpanned, still gazing into the microscope.

“Sir, your guests have arrived and are patiently awaiting your presence.” There was a hint of condescendence which made Bruce look up. What did he forget now?

“Guests? I don’t recall inviting anyone…”

“Your Christmas Eve party sir, with the founding members of the Justice League.” Alfred informed with a cock of his head. Bruce inwardly groaned.

“I don’t have time right now.”

“Sir, I insist that you head upstairs and be courteous to your guests.”

“Alfred, I’m busy.” Bruce exhaled. “Can’t Dick entertain them?” Alfred erected himself raising an eyebrow at that.

“Master Richard is out with miss Gordon as he will be unable to tomorrow since we are having Christmas with the entire family. These are your guests and friends whom you invited for today.” Bruce jabbed a finger at him.

“I did NOT invite them over! You and slap happy Clark planned this while Diana practically had me pinned down. Now I have work to do and it cannot wait.” Bruce grew more serious. “I got a sample of the toxin.” Alfred’s eyes widened slightly.

“Oh my.”

“Yes.” Bruce turned back to the glass vials. “I finally acquired Sanders’ poison. I need to find a cure before she infects more people. I’m waiting for the results right now.”

“As you wait, perhaps you could grace your associates with your presence.”

“Alfred-”

“A half hour, sir.” The two men stared at each other, a battle of wills. Bruce glared daggers into the old man. Alfred was giving him the look, one he has so far not been able to beat. With a sigh, Bruce removed his cowl and headed towards the changing room.

“I’ll be up in five minutes.”

“Very good sir.”

When Bruce finally came up, having changed into a t-shirt and cargo pants, Shayera and John had just arrived. Wally practically forced them in their seats and seemed ready to throttle Clark for demanding to say grace before digging in. Bruce grimaced at the display of food. There were at least ten pies, several unidentifiable casseroles, pork, turkey, all forms of potatoes, a couple cakes, and many more sugar infested delicacies. He couldn’t eat most of it, not if he wanted to double his workout for the next week. He observed the rest of the guests and their lack of needing a restraint. Clark had a moderate portion, far less than he could handle, Wally had half his food stuffed in his mouth while simultaneously pouring more onto his plate. Bruce sighed, thankful that the others brought meals. Poor Alfred. At the far end of the table John and Shayera were flirting again, and that’s when he noticed Diana had been placed next to his spot. Nice try Alfred. J’onn ate very little more interested in his conversation with Clark. They were discussing tomorrow’s plans for Christmas. Bruce sighed again. These were all his friends, perhaps his only ones besides Jim. He could take a half hour off for them. A smile tugged at his mouth, resigning his fate to the party.

“Diana, would you please pass the salad and the Greek dressing?” She beamed back at him.

“Here you are.”

“Thank y-” The bowl clattered on the table the moment he grasped it. Salad splattered across spreading all the way to Clark on Diana’s right. The room went silent, all staring at Bruce. He glared at them and began to pick up the pieces along with the sudden appearance of Alfred.

“Sorry Bruce.” Diana whispered as everyone picked up their conversations again.

“It’s all right.” He finished retrieving the last piece.

“I will be back with more.” Alfred informed and promptly disappeared. Bruce nodded to him and reached for his glass. The way his hands shook did not escape him. Bruce flexed his other hand under the table. His muscles were stiff and achy. The past couple of days must have caught up to him making it act quicker. He growled to himself, taking a sip. He saw Clark eyeing him, a look of concern. Bruce mouthed I’m fine to only have the Kryptonian roll his eyes.

“So, presents or a game?” Wally jumped up. They had finished eating and were now sitting in the main room. The speedster pulled several board games out of his bag handing them to Clark.

“Oh!” Diana exclaimed. “I have heard of Scattergories, it sounds like fun.” She pulled it from Wally’s hand looking it over.

“I’m in.” Clark nodded towards the box. J’onn, John and Shayera agreed as well. “You playing Bruce?” He turned to the billionaire. Bruce was slumped in a leather chair by the gigantic glittering tree.

“I don’t play games.” He huffed.

“You play chess with me.” Shayera smirked.

“Chess is a strategic and mind building tool. I play enough games with the Riddler and Joker as it is, I don’t need another.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” Wally shrugged, helping Diana unpack the box. Bruce sunk more into the chair. He hadn’t been feeling good since dinner and the constant noise was stabbing his head forming a headache. The chair felt amazing as his energy seemed to drain with every moment. His head swam. It felt heavy as he leaned against his hand on the armrest. Bruce checked his watch grimacing at the time. An hour over what he promised Alfred, but he just couldn’t will himself out of the chair just yet. Clark had asked him if he was all right several times and received a plate in the face when he tried to x-ray him. He was such a worry wort.

“Yes! More food!” Wally cried. Alfred walked in with a tray of snacks placing it on the coffee table. Half of it was gone by the time anyone else got to it. Wally only stopped because of John’s glare.

“Bruce, would you like some?” Diana inquired. Bruce stared off out the window, he couldn’t look at it, feeling nauseous.

“No.”

“Bruce, you hardly ate anything at the dinner.” Diana frowned, becoming concerned.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Clark joined in. Bruce clenched his jaw, this was getting annoying. He needed to keep up appearances, but their constant asking was really irritating.

“I’m fine! See!” He grabbed some sort of pork and onion from the tray and plopped it in his mouth. He immediately regretted it. Nearly gagging, Bruce ran to the nearest trash and let it go. He heaved losing his lunch from earlier, but even when it ran out it didn’t stop. The convulses continued making him cough occasionally. He dry heaved until his throat hurt and sweat coated his face. A hand was on his back, rubbing circles. Clark’s soothing voice spewed comforting words. After what felt like an eternity, Bruce sat back on his knees gasping. Clark continued rubbing circles until he caught his breath again.

“I’m okay.” Bruce rasped.

“Looks like it.” sarcasm dripping from Clark’s voice. Bruce turned up to see Alfred coming towards them. They were the only ones in the hallway, the others giving the dark crusader is privacy.

“Master Bruce, are you all right?” Master Bruce was getting really annoyed with people asking that.

“You have a fever.” Clark frowned feeling his head. “Did you catch the flu?” Bruce swatted his hand away dismissing both their concerns and stood up. At least he tried to. Bruce’s shaky legs immediately collapsed under him and he grasped the trashcan for support. His headache was turning into a migraine and his chest burned. It had begun.

“I need to get to the cave…” Bruce rasped starting a new fit of coughing.

“I think you mean upstairs to bed.” Clark chided. Bruce ignored him, attempting to get up and succeeded, even if he was leaning on the wall.

“Master Bruce, now is not the time to be stubborn. Healing requires rest.” Alfred held one of his arms urging him towards the stairs. The billionaire resisted forcing his way to the clock. He returned to the living room full of leaguers who all watched on in concern. Growling at their looks, he turned the clock hands opening the secret door. Bruce’s chest suddenly flared up like it was on fire. He grasped it with a groan falling to the floor again.

“Bruce!” Diana cried, catching him before he hit the floor. The rest gathered around in distress. “Bruce, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“I…need to get, to get to the cave…” He began to cough again, clutching his burning ribs. Diana bit her lip trying to decide what to do. She stopped suddenly reaching for his neck.

“Bruce, what’s that?” In place of his veins were a purple venomous color snaking up his body. She noticed that they had curved down his left arm more numerous and black in color.

“No!” They all swiveled around meeting a distressed Alfred. “You bloody idiot! You did not, did you?!”

“It…it was the only way…” Bruce murmured, still clutching his chest. He eyed his butler daring him to argue.

“What did he do? What on earth is going on?!” Wally burst out.

“Bring him downstairs post haste!” Alfred commanded motioning Diana towards the clock entrance. Without question she picked up Bruce and flew down in a blur.

“Alfred, what’s going on?” Clark calmly asked. Alfred huffed setting towards the stairway down.

“I will explain in the cave.”

Diana gently placed the dark knight down in the medical bay. The coughing had returned, and he squeezed his eyes shut clutching his chest. His face was so stricken in pain that tears were streaming down his face. Diana tried to remain calm, but she didn’t know how long for. Bruce was in pain, a lot of it. She rubbed his back whispering that it was okay, but a lump settled making it harder. Alfred suddenly appeared with the rest of the league at his heels. They crowded around the still hacking vigilante growing increasingly worried. The purple veins had reached his jawline.

“Listen.” Alfred demanded. “I am sure master Bruce was planning on being more coherent for this segment, but that does not seem to be the case at this moment. I will need your help.” The butler revealed no emotion on his face, but Diana was certain she heard a tint of irritation in his voice. “For the past three weeks a serial killer known as Jessica Sanders has been spreading a toxin all around Gotham. The poison has no known cure and leaves no traces after death. Master Bruce has…has, well, injected himself with the toxin in hopes to procure a cure for the next victims.” Alfred faltered clenching his fist. “This is beyond my medical experience, if you all wo-”

“Way ahead of you Jeeves!” Wally hollered from beyond in the lab room. J’onn moved towards the now limp form of Bruce, eyes glowing.

“I know Batman will not appreciate me entering his mind, even for his information on the toxin.”

“But he was being an idiot anyway.” Clark smirked, eyes turning to x-ray. Diana placed a hand on the butler’s shoulder.

“We’ll save him Alfred, I promise.” Wally zipped by them, taking a syringe, and drawing blood from the patient.

“Only bats would poison himself to get out of a Christmas party.”

THE END

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linaofthemyscira · 7 years ago

Text

The Grace of a Newborn Deer

Pairing: Jason x (fem!) Reader

Words: 1851

Prompt: “So I have a bit of an odd request lol Could you do a fic with Jason where his s/o is clumsy as hell? Like just him saving them from themselves. (I also might have managed to break my toe tonight so that is A Thing.)” Requested by @memento-scribet

Warnings: possibly secondhand embarrassment? We’ll see…

A/n I’m a klutz sometimes so like HELL YEAH! WOO! Also, I’m starting to notice that the titles of my fics are sounding like Fall Out Boy or Panic! At The Disco song titles lmao. I hope you enjoy this!

“SHIT!”

You cursed to yourself as you started picking up the stack of papers that you had knocked over onto the floor. Jason had heard you from your bedroom and immediately rushed in to see what was wrong and if you were okay.

“Y/N? What’s wrong, are you okay?” Jason asked as he ran into the dining area. He saw you picking up papers, completely unscathed, and sighed. He joined you on the floor to help you.

“I’m fine, I just ran into the table and knocked over our bills, that’s all. The only casualty was my big toe,” you frowned as you stood up.

Jason stood up with you, a frown also lining his lips, “I didn’t really notice until now, but you’re…”

“Clumsy? I know. I have the grace of a newborn deer. It’s terrible. That’s why I have so many bruises on my legs,” You laughed dryly.

“Yikes. Well I still love you, and I know this sounds cheesy, but if you fall, I’ll always be there to pick you up. No matter what.” He smiled at you.

“Aw...that WAS cheesy. But I still loved it.” You beamed at Jason. “Hey so, I know you don’t really like fancy dinners with stuck up people, but the company I work for is having a fancy dinner with stuck up people on Friday and I would reeeeeaaaally appreciate if you could come with me.”

You clasped your hands together and gave Jason your best puppy eyes. You were right though; Jason hated going to events with arrogant people like the ones you worked with. Whenever he did go to those kinds of events, it was always for an undercover mission. He said it was something about how it reminded him of the galas he would go to with Bruce when he was a kid.

Jason sighed and scratched the back of his neck. He really cared about you and wanted to make you happy...but he hated the people you worked with (which you knew perfectly well).

“Alright. But if that asshole Asher tries anything with you, I’m killing him,” Jason crossed his arms. That was the sole reason he was going with you, other than the fact that he loved you. There was a coworker of yours that would relentlessly hit on you, despite you having told him that you were not available. Jason wanted to be there to make sure that this coworker, Asher, didn’t try to sexually harass you or keep hitting on you.

“Why do you have to go straight to killing? Can’t you just like, punch him in the face first?” You asked amusedly as you put the bills on the table then left Jason to go into the kitchen.

“Fine. I’ll punch him first. That’s strike one,” Jason put his hands up in surrender.

“You’re the best!” You called out to him.

“I know!” He smiled before turning to go back to your bedroom.

He totally couldn’t wait until Friday…

Come Friday, Jason still was reluctant to go to your company’s dinner party, but he put on a brave face and a nice suit and went anyway.

“Thanks again, Jay. I promise you won’t have to go to another one of those for a long time. We’re making budget cuts and word on the street is these fancy dinner parties will be the first to go,” You whispered as you approached the check-in table outside the dining hall.

“Thank God,” Jason whispered back to you. The both of you checked in with the lady at the table, then went into the ballroom/dining hall.

“If I could not trip and make a fool of myself tonight, that would be great,” You mumbled. Jason looked down at you with a small smile.

“I’ll look out for you, don’t worry,” he grabbed your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb.

“You’re honestly the best,” you told him.

“And, honestly, I know,” he winked at you. That was sort of your thing. You’d tell Jason he was the best and he’d say that he already knows. It was like Hazel Grace and Gus’s “Okay? Okay.” thing.

“Alrighty...let’s go eat!” you beamed and led Jason to a table with friends from work and put your stuff down. Then you turned and made a bee-line for the table filled with hors-d'oeuvres. The main courses would be served later in the evening.

Jason sat at the table by himself while you went to get the appetizers and fiddled with the cuff of his jacket.

“Sir,” a voice interrupted his thoughts, “would you like anything to drink?”

Jason looked up and saw a waiter standing behind him with a white cloth over his arm, which reminded him of Alfred. Jason sent a warm, yet awkward, smile to the waiter and shook his head.

“No thank you, but, my girlfriend would probably like some wine. Do you have the drink menu, by chance?” he asked politely.

“It’s right here,” a woman’s voice next to him said. He looked to his right and spotted a lady sitting two chairs over handing him the drink menu.

“Thanks,” Jason muttered and took the menu from her. He quickly scanned the wine list and found your favorite wine.

“One glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, please,” Jason told the waiter and set the menu back on the table.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter nodded and walked away. Jason sat back in his chair and sighed. It felt weird to him that he was being called “sir”. It was so formal. Too formal.

“Hey, I’m back! And I made it here without tripping!” You appeared with a little plate filled with bread, cheese, crackers and other little snacks to munch on.

“Look at you! I’m not gonna lie, I was starting to get worried about you. I ordered you a glass of wine by the way,” Jason smiled softly as you sat next to him.

“Sweet. Red?” You asked as you popped a cracker in your mouth.

“Yep.”

You pumped your fist in satisfaction and made a heart shape at Jason, saying “I love you”. He made one back at you and kissed your forehead.

In a matter of seconds, you and Jason ate everything off of your small plate. You had to wait another hour before you could order any real food, so you decided to get more appetizers.

Unfortunately, it was at the exact moment you decided to stand up, that the waiter approached your table with the wine bottle and glass, so as you turned to leave, you ran straight into the man holding the bottle and chaos ensued. It was like everything was in slow motion.

His fingers let go of the bottle, sending it crashing to the ground. Wine exploded everywhere, and you gasped as you felt the sticky liquid hit your legs and skirt along with tiny shards of glass landing on your exposed feet. The waiter reacted quickly, moving back to avoid getting wine on himself, but ran into another waiter who had a platter of hors-d'oeuvres that was going to replace an empty one. Then that waiter yelled and turned behind him only to run into another waitress with cups of water on her platter. You stood in place and watched food and water getting spilled everywhere in horror.

Jason stood up next to you and saw the mess and sighed. He looked down at your feet and saw you were bleeding because of the glass, so he acted upon it.

“Y/N, you’re bleeding! We need to clean you up,” Jason told you. You responded late, turning your head to him with a pained expression.

“I actually hate myself right now,” you told him. Jason gave you a sympathetic look and was about to go over to help when another waiter came out of nowhere and slipped and fell in the wine in front of you. The food that was on his platter splattered onto both you and Jason and that was all it took for you to burst into tears. Jason frowned and carefully made his way to you and picked you up bridal style. He then proceeded to carry you away from the mess, stepping cautiously to make sure he wouldn’t slip and fall himself.

He carried you to the men’s restroom and set you down on the counter as gently as possible. He left you to find a first aid kit and returned with one a few minutes later. Jason began to clean you up once he got out everything. It was silent for a few minutes as he used a wet paper towel to clean off your ankles and feet, the only sound being your sniffles.

“How bad was it out there?” You asked him softly.

“Not as bad as you think it is,” Jason answered.

“Paramedics?”

“Nope. Not yet.”

“Oh.”

More silence. Jason finished cleaning off your legs and started applying antiseptic. It was particularly odd because you were usually the one cleaning up Jason, but now you were hurt and he was playing nurse. As you winced from the stinging, he spoke.

“It’s not your fault you know.”

You looked up at Jason with an expression of surprise.

“What?”

“None of that is your fault.”

“Ugh, Jason, yes it is! I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention and bumped into that waiter and caused that whole domino effect. It is my fault!” You cried. “I’m a fucking klutz.”

“You couldn’t have known he was gonna be there right at that moment. It’s not your fault. It’s okay. We all make mistakes.” Jason said. You looked at Jason wistfully.

“I don’t deserve you,” you said softly. Jason looked up at you with a surprised expression again.

“Don’t say that, yes you do,” he scolded you jokingly.

“Seriously. You treat me like a princess and—“

“You’re not a klutz, Y/N…”

“Fine. I’m not a klutz.”

“And…?”

“And I deserve you.”

“That’s my girl. See you’re all better now!” Jason let go of your legs and smiled. You looked down at your feet and saw your ankle all bandaged up and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I look like a mummy in the making.”

“Shut up, I tried okay?”

You laughed heartily at Jason and smiled.

“Okay, how about we just go home and order a pizza?” He asked while sticking his hands in his pockets.

You nodded in agreement, “I think that’s a wonderful idea. I probably look like a mess.”

“No comment,” Jason said as he went over to pick up your heels off the floor.

“Hey!” You laughed.

“I didn’t agree with you!” He handed you your shoes.

“But you didn’t disagree!” You told him.

“Again, no comment,” he remarked while smirking. He put one of his arms under your knees while the other braced your lower back. He lifted you up effortlessly and turned to the door.

“My hero,” you said flatly.

“Ahem, um, antihero,” Jason corrected you.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes and with that, Jason whisked you home where you enjoyed pizza and a movie without crashing into anybody.

TAGGING:

@ladyalexa @impulsivesuperrobin @batarangtotheheart @little-lesbean-queen @where-is-my-jason-todd @pinkwitch21 @pamelaivy @makeup-wonder-woman @jasontoddandhisguns @dick-graysns @solis200213 @books-netflix-and-pizza @dramatic-and-young @ioczurma @sarcasmismyfirstlove @badass-hufflepride @princessonly2 @the--iceberg--lounge @timsflannels @dc-hoe @draketimbers @imaginingadifferentlife @letmestargaze36 @fandom--dreamer

#request #Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #batfam x reader

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batmomhoe · 8 years ago

Text

Little SuperBat

Requested by an anon

Summary: Batmom is Superman’s little sister & pregnant. Mixed emotions are expressed when the news is revealed!

Disclaimer: I’m not too familiar with details of Superman’s arcs, so we’re going to pretend Ma & Pa Kent are happy grandparents.

Warning(s): Slight Mentions of NSFW

Word Count: 1,030

“Clark, all I want is to have lunch with everyone I love. No super-hero talk! Plus, Ma and Pa already said they’re coming! Just a nice, relaxing lunch, okay?” Your words flowed into the telephone as you tried to convince Clark to come to lunch at the mansion.

~”They’re coming all the way to Gotham from Smallville?”~ His concerned tone annoyed you slightly and you huffed a sigh.

“They’ve visited you in Metropolis from Smallville! And Gotham’s not that much farther! Look, just please come, okay? Bring Lois and Jon! Please?”

~”Fine, we’ll be there.”~

The day of the lunch couldn’t come soon enough. Your parents arrived a few days earlier in order to spend time with you and the mysterious Bruce Wayne… and all of their grandchildren. Those days were the best of your life, but it would have been better if you didn’t have to keep such a secret the whole time. The little life growing inside of you seemed to taunt your mind, willing you to bring it into conversation at every possible moment.

Thankfully, it had been obvious that your birth controls fluked(or rather the stress of Bruce’s last mission caused you to forget to take them.) So you were able to take a pregnancy test the day after Bruce came home(and the day after you had ‘I’m so thankful you’re alive sex’.) It confirmed your suspicions and you and Bruce set out to find a way to tell everyone before Clark flew in on his own and demanded to know why he heard a little heartbeat connected to yours.

Finally, the day came and you couldn’t help but have a smile plastered to your face after you hung up the phone from Lois telling you they were leaving. Nervously, you busied yourself in the kitchen, happily helping Alfred and your mother(who refused to NOT bake a pie) prepare things for the picnic lunch. It kept your mind off things and kept your heart rate from racing.

The doorbell rang and your body tensed as you glanced at your mother. A smile spread across Martha’s face before she wiped her hands on her apron. Eagerly you set your knife down and followed her out of the kitchen, excitedly scurrying to the front door. Along the way you met other members of the family, also gravitating towards the door in anticipation.

An hour later the lunch picnic was well under way, Damian and Jon having “endurance” races while Steph and Jason threw a football trying to be the next Odell Beckham Jr. and catch it with one hand. Cass was showing Gramma Kent her ballet routine, with Dick choking back proud older brother tears. Alfred talked passionately with your father about his vegetable garden. Babs, you, and Lois talked about whatever, while watching Clark harass Bruce with concerned brother questions as Bruce tried to barbeque.

When lunch was served everyone sat down at the custom picnic bench and started passing food around. Before long, you shared a look with Bruce, knowing what it was time to do.

“Sooo,” You cleared your throat, “Bruce and I have something to announce.”

Immediately you saw everyone tense, some in fear and other’s in excitement, before your mother, eyes twinkling, spoke up, “Well, what it is, darling?”

You shared another glance with Bruce, “I’m pregnant!”

Your parents lit up excitedly but not before Clark stood up, the bench he was sitting on being pushed back with his movement, “What?!”

Lois put a hand on his arm to try and calm him down but in a huff he turned away from the table and towards the woods behind the mansion. With a sad sigh you got up and announced that you’d go after him. It thankfully didn’t take long to find him slumped over near the bank of the creek. You sat down next to him and sighed again.

“Are you not happy about this?”

Clark’s head snapped up to look at you, “No! I mean, I am happy for you. But… another bat running around? (Y/N), what if something bad happens just because it’s yours and Bruce’s kid, or more importantly, batman’s kid.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Clark, that didn’t stop you or Lois. And it’s not going to stop Bruce and I. Plus, we have quite a few older siblings willing to protect our little one.”

Now it was Clark’s turn to sigh as he took in your words, knowing you were right. At the end of the day you couldn’t have been more satisfied by everyone’s reactions. Even if Clark got a little bit more overprotective than you liked, it was to be expected and it’s not as if he was the only overprotective one in the family.

Nine months later and Clark was unsurprisingly the first one by your bed side having heard your first sounds of distress. Bruce was second to come to your side. When you got to the hospital Bruce was rather thankful he didn’t have to ask Clark to stay in the waiting room and not go in the delivery room with you two. Clark paced back and forth for the entire 13 hours you were labor.

If you hadn’t been completely drained of energy and over excited at the same time you would’ve cracked some joke about how you would’ve hated to see what Clark was like when Lois was delivering. Luckily, Bruce was there to make the joke for you. Your baby rested in your tired arms perfectly and Bruce slumped in the chair next to your bed when Clark was finally let into the room.

Clark’s face lit up in a smile the second he walked into his face lit up at the sight of his tiny niece. Gently you slid your newborn into your brother’s arms and watched as tears came to his eyes after you told him she was named after both Bruce’s and your mothers. As Clark looked down at his niece, dwarfed in his muscular arms he thought maybe, just maybe, another bat might not hurt the world. After all, this one wasn’t just a bat, this little girl was a SuperBat.

#superman #clark kent #bruce wayne #batman #imagine #fluff #damian wayne #jon kent #batfam #superfam

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