#forever grateful for the addition of the beauty mark on her chin

[xmrnothingx]

Samus Aran from Metroid

... as she appears at the end of Metroid Other M, because I really like the outfit. Always nice to see what Samus wears during her downtime that isn't just the Zero Suit by itself.

[movedyourchair505]

Napule Nights - trentasei

Jade meets Penny and David, as promised. Thanks to Elana for always figuring difficult stuff like this out with me x

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In all of the underground space of the headquarters, the conference room was the lightest one Jade had seen yet, still looking around and scanning her surroundings, but she was barely picking up on anything, her initial determination to not lose track of her sense of detail gone up in smoke as soon as Alexander had decided to seat her at the opposite end of the table, staring straight at him, yet there were several chairs and people in between, and in protest, she'd leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms in a way that drew attention to nothing but her chest, the lace top of her silvery pink dress not covering any more than actual lingerie would have, lace trailing down into a satin skirt, additional lace on the sides drawing attention to the skin of her thighs.

She watched him at the other end of the table, balancing his cigarette between his fingers and taking the occasional drag, the smoke veiling his gorgeous features for no longer than a second each time it left his lips, yet she couldn't help herself from staring, forever drawn to stare due to the complexity of his face, the simplest movements exciting, the way he scrunched his nose up in disgust ever so slightly, exposing the distaste for something someone else at the table said. She could tell he was purposely not looking at her, his dark eyes resting for longer than in mere passing on everyone but her, but he had her full attention, not a single movement unnoticed by her, her fingers aching to touch and adjust his hair that he'd slicked back in a rush earlier, and it was threatening to fall out of form now.

On the car ride to the headquarters, she'd been completely unable to keep her hands off him, the constant ache she had for him only intensified after they'd almost been late because he hadn't been able to deny her when having been woken up with her sat on top of him, teasing him, and only having waited for him to wake up to lower herself down on him, but as soon as he'd been aware, as soon as the sleep had lifted from his mind, he'd flipped them, refusing even that early to let her dominate him, and had instead fucked her into the mattress in return, hard and fast and in a way that left her insatiable, her frustration only increased when he'd cautiously seated her at the other end of the table, opposite him and far away, his words too weak to be a threat. “I can't 'ave yeh distractin' meh, yeh're too fookin' frustratin'. If yeh wanna beh in this meetin' yeh 'ave teh be'ave.”

The hint of a challenge that she knew he was well aware of and had strategically used against her was the only thing that kept her the way she was, that kept her from actually making an effort to distract him, and he was as much of a distraction himself, so much so that despite having insisted on being part of the meeting, despite her best efforts, Jade could barely focus now.

Half of his arms were exposed, the sleeves of his peach coloured shirt rolled up and contrasting his tanned skin, the jacket to his matte black suit hung over the back of his chair. The mark she had left on his throat was still visible, beautiful and making sure everyone knew she'd been there. She was desperate to sink her teeth into his skin again, make him moan quietly the way he hadn't been able to suppress, toy with his chain and make his jaw tense the way it did now as he listened calmly to one of the suggestions a man to her left made.

Alexander took another drag of his cigarette before crushing it in the ashtray before him, his glance passing Jade as he looked around and his heart jumped when he saw that she was still looking at him, seemingly not intending to break her stare any time soon.

When his eyes met hers, even if it was just for a moment, the intensity made her shiver, excited her and she pressed her lips together, biting the inside of her cheek as she felt a dull throbbing ache between her legs as soon as she'd allowed her mind to wander, pictured him rising to his feet and making her crawl towards him, grabbing her by the throat and forcing her down into position on the table, everyone else watching or leaving, she didn't care, she just needed him, felt her underwear dampening from the sheer thought of feeling him inside her again, her eyes fluttering shut for no longer than a second, but of course that he'd seen, the smug satisfaction on his face when he licked his lips leaving her determined to concentrate the lust she had for him to the inside for now.

Each time he spoke, his deep drawl either surging through the silence or cutting off someone else, the authority in his low voice had her reeling, wishing he was close to her, wishing he was taunting her, telling her she was his, telling her he loved her.

“Jade” he hummed, the way he said her name snapping her out of it as much as it made her wish she was making him moan it. “Wha' do yeh fink?”

She swallowed hard, her jaw tensing and she sat straight in her seat, lifting her chin. Bastard.

“About what?” She asked reluctantly, ultimately more frustrated with herself than him because him and her both knew that she could help if she actually paid attention, and she couldn't help but be annoyed that she was wasting this chance. She wanted to spite him as much as she did the men around the table regarding her sceptically, as if she was somewhat inferior, their gazes alternating between her face and the bruises around her neck, most failing to stop there.

Alexander licked his lips, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement as he couldn't help but feel pleased with himself for having caught her, he loved watching her beg him to fuck her as much as he liked her to beg him to help with the business, and he knew that it would have been wrong to tell her based on her wandering mind that she shouldn't have been in the meeting, but the simple question was worth the tease now, despite the matter being more than serious, and once he'd had his fun with the expression on her face, he spoke again. “I've sent out sum of our best men teh track down Mancini. I 'ave not yet decided specificleh wha' teh do wif 'im.”

She swallowed, silently grateful that he hadn't intended to completely humiliate her in front of everyone. “Is it wise at all to track him down?” She questioned.

He raised his eyebrows, her question catching him by surprise. “Jade” he said. “He 'urt yeh. Look wha' 'e fookin' did teh yeh.” His gaze was insistent, and she knew what he was trying to tell her, he should have seen it coming.

“But I'm okay” she said, the look in her own eyes softening and she wished she could touch him, squeeze his hand, stroke his hair or touch his shoulder to soothe him. “Don't play into Alfonso's hands that way, please. Not for me.”

He let his eyes wander, looking at the men that had advised him as well as his father well before. “Gentlemen?”

“If Mancini had touched my bird that way, I'd be out there searching along with the others” one of the men to his right stated.

Jade tensed. “They only did this to get a rise out of him” she said, shaking her head, now it was her looking around hopefully around the table, searching for someone that had common sense. “In a time like this, offense is the wrong move.”

“I don't know how much your bird knows, Turner, but with the state of the business, she might have a point” another man said, raising is eyebrow at his superior.

Turner's jaw locked, a hard swallow followed that made his throat strain underneath the mark, then he rose to his feet. “Weh'll take a vote tomorrow” he said, adjusting his rings as he looked around at the other men. “Dismissed.”

Jade rose from her seat the moment the first man opened the door, crossing the room with few quick steps and adjusting her white fur coat, her heels clicking on the ground and her body relaxed visibly when he turned to her and gave her a look of disbelief. “Alexander, don't do this” she said, pressing her lips together as she drew his jacket from his seat and held it out for him.

“Wha' were yeh finkin'?” He asked.

She pursed her lips, walking around him to adjust his collar over the jacket. “You asked my opinion, baby” she said, smiling as she reached to brush his hair back, feeling him relax right into her touch, breathing out slowly, but his eyes widened again when he looked at somebody over her shoulder, yet with a slight tug on his hair she had his attention again. “What?”

“I swear if one of them fookin' looks at yeh again...”

“Hey, hey” she said, shaking her head. “I wanted to be here, Alexander. Let them look.”

His eyes grew wider. “Let them-... Jade, I...” He sighed, once again soothed by the way she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I'm all yours” she said, pressing herself close to him, purring with satisfaction when his hands came down on her hips. “And I'm just trying to help.”

“Well, yeh didn't fookin' be'ave, did yeh? Yeh still work for meh.”

A smile spread across her lips now and she tilted her head slightly. “Mmm, what are you going to do, baby? Fire me?” A deep sense of satisfaction spread inside her when she saw the corner of his mouth twitch and he rolled his eyes.

She hummed, moving her hand slowly up his chest and underneath his shirt, scratching lightly at his shoulder, the light in his eyes drawing her in hopelessly and she leaned in, yet jumped instantly when she heard the door click, the groan of annoyance vibrating in Alexander's throat only making her want him more.

“Si?” He asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly at Helders.

“I'm sorreh, boss, yehr father wants teh see yeh.”

Alex tensed, his jaw clenching and with a sudden shift, his face was expressionless. “Then please take Jade 'ome” he sighed, stepping back and adjusting his jacket.

“Actualleh” Helders said. “'e's requested teh see yeh bof.”

Jade's eyes widened and she turned to look between the two, Helders' face now expectant, Turner's with shock written all over it. “When?” He asked, swallowing hard.

“Reyht now, boss” Helders stated. “Yehr parents are 'avin' lunch in the citeh and they want yeh teh join them. They're waitin'.”

Jade was speechless for a moment, her heart racing with the sudden fear that she'd messed up because they'd asked for her to come along specifically. She looked worriedly at Alexander, tense and desperate to hear his decision, unsure what she would have preferred, but there was not a single moment of contemplation, without another word, his hand came down on the small of her back and before she knew, they were following Helders out of the office and down the corridor towards the doors.

“A-Alexander...” she said. “Maybe I should change?”

“There's no time” he stated, his face cold and he nodded for her to get into the car as Helders opened the door for her, Cook on the other side opening it for him.

“I'll be two seconds...” she said hesitantly, desperate to catch his eyes with hers as they sat beside each other in the backseat. “You know I won't take long.”

Her heart stopped when his eyes finally snapped up. “Jade, there's no time. Weh can't let them wait.”

She swallowed hard, diverting her gaze and adjusting her coat. It wasn't like she had never been judged for the way she looked before, harassed and mistreated, and she knew that nothing they could say, not even Alex's father could even scratch the surface of her confidence. But what would undoubtedly bother her was their judgment of her transferring to Alexander, because as sure as she was that he stood by her and his decision for her, it would build up his own stress and would set back any progress he'd made with the business during the past few days, and she hated the thought of it, hated to be the reason of causing him unnecessary difficulty, not that she wasn't worth it, not that she didn't enjoy him sticking up for her, but he already had enough to deal with as it was, she'd already added enough, and she was determined to for his sake behave in a way that would solely benefit him.

She stayed silent for the rest of drive, hated the way the situation brought her back to a tension between them she had almost forgotten about now, and she breathed out shakily with relief when she felt his hand searching for hers between them on the seat, his long fingers intertwined with hers instantly as he gave a light squeeze, his jaw tense as she finally looked up at him, her mouth opening, but before she could speak, the car came to a stop, Helders and Cook stepping out and opening the doors for them.

The moment Jade set her second heel down on the pavement, Turner was by her side, linking his arm with hers and giving a nod to the two security guards in front of a restaurant Jade only knew because a very decadent client had once taken her there to impress a few business associates, and she gathered the white fur across her chest and her bare shoulders, knowing that even though she looked and felt better because of her choice of clothing, she could have chosen something just as sexy that would have been more appropriate, although she couldn't help the satisfied smile that spread across her lips when a few heads turned as they entered, as interested in her as they were in the man whose arm she was now attached to, and she hummed when he drew her closer to his side, the gesture enough to fuel her confidence and strengthen her intentions.

“Jade?”

She prepared herself for an order, instructions to act a certain way, she'd gotten used to it by now, it was always the way whenever entering a room, men whispering to her, hushed demands to follow before reaching the table. But not Alexander.

“Yeh look fookin' incredible, il mio amore.”

She bit down harshly on her lip, her whole body shuddering and she squeezed his arm, there was no time to respond, let alone sink down on her knees and worship that incredible man the way he deserved, but she certainly wasn't going to forget the look in his eyes, forced herself to focus as they came to a stop.

“Figlio.”

“Padre.”

Neither his father stood as Alexander pulled a chair back for Jade, nor did he even acknowledge her at first and she held her breath, sitting down hesitantly, then turned her head as he walked around to greet his mother, leaned down to kiss her cheek and she rubbed his back gently. “Mamma.”

“Ciao, cucciolotto.” His mother smiled, shifting in her seat and waiting for her son to sit down before her eyes finally made it to Jade who was glad for the distraction, the intensity of the older man's stare an instant intimidation she hadn't expected, and while she'd always respected his name, was well-aware of where he had taken his family name, she had never been this overwhelmed, reputation and face combined sending shivers down her spine. “Jade, si?”

Jade nodded slowly, taking a deep breath before she drew her coat from her arms and hung it over the back of the chair, soothed only by the way Alexander's hand came down on her knee, a gentle squeeze following. “Si” she said, swallowing as she could feel two unfamiliar pairs of eyes on her, relieved when Alexander cut in.

“Why did yeh need teh see us bof?” He asked.

His father's face remained unchanged and his eyes searched behind them, then snapped at the waiter, holding up two fingers before he lowered his hand and looked back at his son. “Yeh are aware that you are not yet the owner of me business, aren't you, Alexander?”

Jade felt oddly out of place, despite the ease of which she was able to win anybody over, she was well-aware that this was not the moment to make use of that skill, instead she focused on Alexander, the way he swallowed, visibly distressed.

“I am aware” he said slowly, licking his lips.

“And are yeh aware that this means I am still watching yehr evreh move, figlio?”

Alexander pursed his lips. “If this about the men I sent out teh find Mancini...”

“It is, yeh alreadeh risked so much by sending out more men than yeh were allowed to find Alfonso's other base, and now yeh're doing exactly what he wanted teh achieve in the first place?”

The way his father tensed had him leaning back slowly, his body tensing with a matchable anger and sense of frustration, he had nothing to say for himself, no way to justify himself. “I might call it off” he said quietly.

“Oh, grazie a Dio” the older man muttered, but there was a mocking tone behind his voice that Jade recognised only too well. “I thought yeh'd lost all sense because of this girl.”

Alex's jaw tensed, his lips pressed together for a moment to compose himself before he was able to give a collected response. “It were actualleh Jade's idea.”

“It's also because of her that yeh risked so much in the first place, bello” his mother said, her voice much softer, but her words only made it harder for Jade to stay quiet, yet she'd vowed to behave, to go along with whatever Alexander wanted to do, though admittedly, it was getting increasingly harder. “And now yeh've moved her into yehr place...” she continued. “Yeh've not done that since...”

“Adriana.” His father's voice was firm, the look on his face more frightening than anything Alex himself could have been capable of.

Alexander bit his lip, glaring back at his father. “And yeh think I dun't kno' tha'?” He snapped. His fingers were shaking, he'd been meaning to keep Jade from being a part of a conversation like this, afraid all along that it would only drive her away and yet there she was, sat by his side and allowing them to talk about her as if she wasn't even there, her fingers cupping his on her knee, and he was only momentarily distracted as the waiter placed a glass of martini in front of them each and he took it thankfully, his fingers closing around the cold glass and he down it all in one, licking his lips. “Scusa.”

His father gave a respectful nod before his face turned cold again. “This is not just about her though, Alexander” he stated, his eyes dark as he looked at his son. “I thought I could trust yeh teh take over the business soon, but now I'm not so sure. Yeh have made decisions that I could not predict, yeh are losing focus, yeh are falling deeper and deeper into this feud wif Alfonso, yeh're getting distracted...”

“Padre” Alex interrupted, shaking his head, eager to explain himself now that he had something to say for himself. “At this point, Alfonso is a greater threat teh the business than yeh fink. And if 'e takes wha's mine, I will not let 'im get aweh wif tha'...” His jaw was shaking and he swallowed hard, a shaky breath escaping his lips as Jade squeezed his hand. He was desperate for more, knew that she would be able to soothe him with a few simple touches, and he was struggling to compose himself. “I joost refuse teh beh disrespected.”

“Alexander, yeh've disappointed meh.”

His mother sat straight, looking at her husband. “David.”

Jade had been biting her tongue, had forced her hand that was interlocked with Alexander's to stay still, but her other hand was shaking, she was struggling hard to keep still and when she saw the look on Alexander's face, she couldn't contain herself anymore. “Stai zitto!”

It was like a moment of slow motion in which all three pairs of eyes fixated solely on her, more so than throughout the entire conversation, and she was trembling, a fear rushing through her that she could not remember feeling last. She was going to regret this, but there was no going back now, and she used the moment of utter shock on the older man's face in front of her to continue. “He has done nothing to deserve that” she snapped.

“Scusi?”

She bit her lip. “Alexander has been working more and harder than I've ever seen anyone work, without exception. He upholds his name and lives up to it, furthering the business and all the while trying to establish a maintaining superiority over another business that makes all of this a whole lot harder. He shuts down any disrespect towards your family name, and this is what he gets?” Her lip was quivering, she couldn't hold herself back, not even the touch of Alex's hand on her thigh, nor the warning gaze his mother gave her could stop her now. “People on the street are afraid of you for the wrong reason, clearly.”

Alex breathed shakily, not daring to take his eyes off Jade, staring in awe, and he was as worried about his father as he was fascinated by the beauty beside him. He didn't have it in himself to apologize for her, because why would he, why would he apologize for something he had never dreamt of having but now realised he couldn't live without?

To Alexander's surprise as well as Jade's, his mother spoke first, leaning forward and extending her hand to Jade who took it rather hesitantly, her heart jolting as she felt the warm squeeze. “I just want teh say...” She glanced to her husband who she could tell was conflicted, fuming even, yet trying to stay calm and she shook her head. “No, David, she's reyht” she said decisively before looking back at Jade. “Gioia.”

Jade's eyes were wide as she looked back at the woman in front of her, was almost holding her breath again, her fear merging slowly into curiosity, she was truly lost for words now, managed merely incoherence. “I-I … scusa, I just...”

“No, there is nothing to apologize for, bambina, not when yeh are speaking up for me Alexander like this.”

A shaky breath escaped from her throat and she could only feel Alex's hand resting on her thigh, refusing to look away from his mother now, she was taken aback, could hardly comprehend what was happening as the woman nodded towards Jade's drink and she lifted it at the same time as she did hers, giving a hesitant nod when she cheered with her and downed it all the same as Alexander, quick and rushed to ease her nerves.

“Allora” she nodded. “I think weh're done here.”

Alexander rose to his feet, needed no telling twice and Jade missed is touch for just a second, watching him walk around to kiss his mother's cheek before he placed the fur coat over Jade's shoulder, his hand found the smell of her back and he nodded to his father, the heat of his hand searing through her dress as he led her away.

“Alexander” she whispered, pressing herself to her side, her fingers shaking as she clung to his arm. “I'm so sorry.”

He lifted his eyes, the softness of chocolate and everything he'd ever admitted to her in his eyes threatening to bring her to her knees. “Dun't yeh dare, doll” he said, reaching to brush her hair back gently from her face. “They like yeh.”

[satire-please]

My Teeth are like Swords - Part 2

Summary: (I’m tired and can’t transfer this in a way to keep my italics in dang it.) Tim is a detective...who lives with detectives. The other Bat's start noticing something different about one of their own. And Tim realizes that he can't hide forever.

Part 1

Dragon Tim on Ao3

Like finding gold dust on a blood moon, there are times Tim will hear about his Mother. It’s difficult to encounter another drake, they’re too rare, too widely spread that it’s a miracle that Tim has met two. But it’s always a surprise to hear that Janet Drake is considered a romantic, sentimental imbecile to other dragonfolk.

To mate with a human is one thing, but to shift and willingly live beside them in their pitiful metal ant hills? Preposterous.

And to carry young on that state? Inside of their own bodies instead of in a proper shell as hard as diamonds? Unheard of.

What foolish unnecessary risks.

Tim felt his core bubble in warmth whenever he hears such slander. That Mother would care that much. Once, he did approached her on the subject.

“I spent many centuries as a upstanding, model drake.”Janet sniffed disdainfully, steering Tim from a fuming man at one of Gotham’s many galas. The drake from the east is starting to show, smoke passing from his nose uncontrollably. How embarrassing, her Timothy showed more restraint when he was three. “Now I find it much more valuable of my time to do as I please. Besides, the fact remains that my line will continue to endure and adapt unlike most bloodlines that will taste stone and dust.”

Tim summed it up to, ‘I do what I want. Leave me alone or burn.’

She glanced behind her to give the man a subtle sneer. What a fool to think that she would accept such an inadequate betrothal for her son. And, to add insult to injury, the man’s daughter hadn’t even bothered to present herself. “A dragon is a dragon, Timothy. It doesn't matter if you are half, a quarter or only possess a single drop of our blood. Magic doesn't care. It will still take, you will still shift, you will still fly. And if those incessant pathetic hair ribbons say anything different, show them there are still ways to make a dragon fry.”

Tim loved his Mother.

It’s...a shame he’s the only one who knew how she died.

And it wasn’t from that stupid water Obeah left, no matter how traditional to dragon slaying poison is. True it weakened her to the point of inducing a death-like coma, but if Tim lifted an eyelid the iris would still flash and respond. If Tim pressed his hand to her chest, he’d still feel the hint of fire tucked within.

Robbing the cemetery had been a pain though. It’s not like he could just tell Dad that, ‘Um hey, mother’s not dead. No, I know she seems like she’s dead. Yes, I know she doesn’t have a pulse, but you see–’

Yeah, not happening.

He abused his connections for a nice cave carved out of the cliff face next to the manor. It’s not like Mr. Wayne was using it. It could be accessed from the rocky beach if necessary, the entrance tight until you were a couple meters in. Then it stretched enough for his mother’s body to shift unconsciously, so the dragon could heal and sleep in peace.

Tim had thought it was perfect.

It didn’t matter much in the end.

Not when Mother finally woke and could smell Tim’s lie about Dad. Not when she stopped eating. The young teen would find, hunt, and drag dead deer and antelope into the cave only to rot around her body as she stared emptily at the stone walls. She waited for death. Nothing could change her mind...no matter how much he begged and pleaded.

“Please!” He stroked her rough eyelid, thoughts racing for any excuse for her to stay with him. To not leave him alone. “Isn’t there something you still have to teach me?”

His hand falls away as a lazy violet eye cracks open. It’s bigger than his head and the pupil focuses so achingly slow. “You’ve known all since you turned twelve, my pet. Our race never repeats themselves, not with memories like ours.”

“B-But I need–”

“You have my hoard, you will not go without means. You have my brain, you will do well and even thrive. You have a territory, a perfect environment for your future form and most of all you possess a purpose to keep your heart beating. Even if it is as ridiculous as looking after those silly humans. I am satisfied...now let me die in peace.”

“No please, m-mother, stay with me.”

“Oh, my darling. One day you will understand. Our love...is a terrible thing.”

And with that she stopped responding. Tim reasoned, screamed, cried while the reflection of his distraught face became clear in those unblinking glassy eyes. His throat raw as he hit and scratched uselessly at the black scales going grey, like the ashy rock dripping behind them until the camouflage of her skin was truth and she was stone.

Like all dragons when they die.

That’s how Timothy Drake inherited Gotham, sobbing on his knees as the refuge became a crypt.

It takes several years before Tim raids another grave...his father’s.

After all, Mother would appreciate his skeleton crystallizing next to hers. She would have liked that.

Timothy still loves his Mother.

**

It's a slow night and Jason’s gonna explode. He's stopped four muggings, seven car thefts, and a couple of kids trying to make a molotov cocktail. Okay, Jason felt bad at stopping the last one, come on what is he turning into? A twitchy cop? Geez, let kids be kids and fuck the police. He’s about to shoot his own damn foot for some excitement when he sees something in the corner of his eye as he hits the next roof.

Oh-ho? In the curve of hanging gargoyles menacingly scowling at those is a hint of red that tugs a smirk on Hood’s lips.

Replacement.

Well, alright, he hasn't meant that name in a bad way for a while. It's not like Jay wants to carve a new one in Mr. Serious anymore. Sure, he’s an annoying prude with the biggest stick up his ass, hangin’ off Bats’ every word like the good guard dog, the good tool he is, but, hey, he ain't a bad guy. Saved Jay from enough pinches that he feels right and guilty about the whole almost bleedin’ him out thing. So he makes it up the only way he can..with tough love. Plus, the more Jay can shake that Babybird nice and loose, the better. He takes in the former Robin’s figure, how he’s hunched in upon himself. His head of black resting on his knees as the crouch tucks him right under one of the silent stone guardians.

Babybird snoozing on the job? Have some shame.

Not that Jay has any of that. He barely stops himself from snickering, giving himself away when the helmet goes static for it, and creeps closer. Close enough to get the best view of the little shit’s face. It takes a Bat to sneak up on a Bat, you know. A grin spreads wide on his cheeks as he pulls his gun from his holster (it’s only rubber bullets now, calm the fuck down) Then, he aims to the sky and fires.

The crack of the bullet gives Jay the most beautiful flinch and jerk you ever did see–

Boom.

–but the returning blast of burning hot possible death that floods the ledge is not.

It takes every scrap of speed he has to not singe his fucking eyebrows off. It’s more fire than force, but thank Batman for quick reflexes and the tell tale click near Red.

“What the hell, Babybird?” Smoke billows, curling around the two and Jason coughs, waving his arms madly.

“I could say the same for you, asshole.” In the black mess, a spark sputters between Tim’s teeth, just like an annoying lighter that flickers and hurts your thumb the more you try, as he tries to control his shaky breathing. Inhale. Damn, that really startled him. Exhale. His fangs sink into his lower lip, drawing blood over the rude awakening. He shakes his head like a dog, forcing what was sharp canines into blunt square human teeth. “Gunshot really? Gosh, you always have to be a dick, don’t you?”

“Do you always have to throw something flashy when ya wake up? Ain’t that Robin’s way?” Jason brushes his clothes, disgruntled. He didn’t see a flash grenade or anything, but Bats right? More prepared than a Girl Scout.

“Maybe.” Tim wonders how long he’s going to get convenient excuses.

“What? Ya sleep with them or something? Didn’t know ya needed a teddy bear, Replacement.”

Tim smirked, “Oh, come on, Hood, didn’t you learn to let sleeping dragons lie?”

“Ha, ha. Whatever, call it a night, you pyromaniac piece of shit.” Jason puts his gun away and fishes for a peace offering under his collar. He thrusts the white cigarette at the other, “Smokes?”

“Not right now, Hood.”

“Your loss, Replacement.” Jason lights it, dragging a puff to cover up a pout. Hmpf, stuffy princess. Doesn’t drink with him (I’m not legal to drink, Jason). Never smokes with him (We have set an example to Damian, Jason). Jay should be offended cause nowadays Tim carries the hazy scent round like a club’s perfume and Jay knows he’s hiding the good stuff somewhere.

He’s just never seen Tim do it.

Tim observes the turn of Jason’s mouth and jerks his head towards the street below, “Not smokes, but you hungry enough for hotdogs?”

“This is Gotham, baby, when I am ever not down for hotdogs?”

The two shoot their grappling lines towards a vendor who’s too used to this shit to give one. But as Tim rattles off their order, something itches at Jason. Something that’s off.

(The Gargoyle they left above bares new marks along its side. The side that Jason couldn’t see. They were not chiseled in, but Tim is sure most wouldn’t notice the new additions.)

Whatever.

He’ll figure it out.

**

Timmy’s been sleeping more.

Dick is so grateful he wipes at an imaginary tear, sniffs, and whips out his phone to snap a picture again. Tim doesn’t snore, but that’s definite drool on his chin, nicccccccce. Dick takes in the scene and gets another shot from a different angle. He almost has a full album now titled, Behold the Cryptid Sleeps, it’s only fair after all the pictures Tim took of them when he was their cutest little stalker. For now, Dick just calls it karma and texts Babs to back the good stuff up.

But, okay, Dick admits it’s starting to get weird.

And Timmy’s sleeping habits have always been weird. Before he had stolen Bruce’s crown and title of Sleep Dep King. Working on case after case, day after day only to finally pass out, usually with something like,

“How many days does it take to start hallucinating again, Bruce?”

“...Three.”

“Huh, so that’s why you’re purple with seven eyes.”

It usually takes a lot to get Timmy to crash and burn into a bed, usually (always) in the form of Alfred and good food laced with sedatives. It’s not that Timmy doesn’t know that they’re in the food, it’s just that no one says no to Alfred Pennyworth. No one.

But now it’s like Tim is on an egg timer and it’s wonderful.

After about 24 or 26 hours, against his will, Timmy starts swaying on his feet and lurches grumpily towards a safe, soft spot to snooze. True, Dick notes sometimes they’re odd places, like underneath the desk of the bat computer, nestled in much of the wiring. Or head resting on the kitchen table, his angry eyes drooping with, “I don’t understand. Coffee has failed me, Alfred.”

“Our bodies change over time, Master Timothy. One cannot expect caffeine to sustain them forever.”  

“You’re...lying. You did something to the coffee, admit it!”

“I have not...this time.”

“You must have I...can’t even–” But Tim doesn’t get to finish the response.

“Master Dick I believe Master Timothy needs to be escorted to his room. If you would–” Alfred leaves the sentence open, because anytime Dick can hold an unconscious, not struggling brother? You know he’s all over that.

Bruce has even started to prioritize breaks in the patrol schedule for Tim. Or, to be more accurate, he’s encouraging (enforcing) Tim to use the breaks that have always been there.

But…really the switch in the dynamic is kinda odd, especially when Dick finds Tim on one of the Manor’s couches after patrol, his skin paler than milk and shivering in his sleep. When the room is set to 75 degrees���.and he’s under at least five blankets.

Dick pads over and cups the younger vigilante face in two hands. “Holy Batman, Timmy, you're as cold as ice.” His brow furrows when Tim barely responds to the statement, his eyes half open to blurrily peer at Dick. That’s not a good sign. Plus, he’s is not kidding. Tim’s skin is cool to the touch, it could compete with one of the dripping stalagmites in the cave.

“S’cold Dick…and tired.” The words push out of his lips clumsily. He raises his arms to grasp the Dick’s wrists as if he was going to push the hands off his cheek and then just forgot. The heat’s too inviting. “Just need sleep, m’fine.”

“I think you're a liar that lies, Babybird.” Dick leans back only to pull the covers off enough to slip beside Tim onto the couch. He tugs the boy in with an arm until Tim's head finds a comfy spot on his shoulder. Heck yeah, it's cuddle time. The best way to share body heat ever. He looks around the den and sees the remote for the T.V. It takes a few tries to stretch in a way to get it, especially without moving too far from Tim, but Dick’s not an acrobat for nothing.

Tim huffs a weary laugh against Dick’s neck, “Well, I'm the guy that lies to Batman, you know.”

“Shhhhhhh, he’ll hear you.” Dick pats Tim’s hair, starts clicking channel after channel (a thousand channels is just not enough) for something to watch.

“M’good, you can go.” Tim didn’t expect it would take so long for his core to normalize. Fire might smoulder under his breast, but damn it, it’s sucking most of the heat from his extremities. To his calculations, it may be months before his body can adjust to the change...if ever. Tim can already imagine the mountain of clothing he’ll need for Gotham’s winter. Mother got away with it by layering and calling in fashion. How is Tim going to spin it when he’s jumping off roof-tops fat with every wool item he can find? Oh. Or he could design heaters in his clothing. That could work. But still, this is the reason why most drakes live near volcanoes. Temperature regulation is a bitch.

Dick hums above him and breaks Tim’s line of thought. Oh well, he guesses he’ll stay here for a bit longer, just until he thaws out and stops being an Tim-icicle. It’s not that Dick minds, right? He fades away at the sound of a bad romantic comedy playing in the background.

He doesn’t see the frown on Dick’s face.

Or hear him quietly whisper into his com, “Alfred, could you run some tests for me?”

**

Alfred would have a conniption.

“Drake, you wretched slob.”

Damian must see to it that the competent butler never visits the former Robin. Ever. The man is old and truly must be spared from any health issues that may occur from witnessing this vile display of chaos. In fact, Damian wishes he could spare himself from the scene, yet Father did request him to fetch the evidence and Dick is off planet. How dare he.

Damian squints pass the entrance only to flinch back. There in the dark, two pinpricks of purple follow his every move...and hiss.

The Robin swallows and forces the door open all the way, allowing the dim light from the basement to flood the room. There are no light switches. It’s...odd. The boiler hums nearby explaining the heat that’s almost sweltering. Heaps of objects litter the floor, making narrow pathways here and there. Fortunately, food must be absent in the debris since the smell lacks rot. Instead what perfumes the air is what Damian associates with his predecessor, the smell of spices burned with a touch of something chemical. Gasoline, perhaps? Damian’s breathing finally evens out when he spots a mess of black hair poking out from a mountain of bedding.

Blearily, Tim focuses on the intruder. “Damian? What are you doing here?” he sleepily grumbles.

Though Grayson might find the tone endearing, Damian does not.

“I have come for the Spear of Enue. Father requires it and has requested me to retrieve it from you. He said it was in your possession?”

“B needs to leave my stuff alone.” Tim sits upright, staring emptily for a moment and clearly displeased about being awake. Then, with a groan he sluggishly works himself out of the bedding. “But a case is a case, I guess. Yeah, I have it, just give me a sec to get it.”

“The spear is here?”

A hum. “Sure, it is, why wouldn’t it be?”

Well, at least Drake seems more amenable when half-awake. Robin crosses his arms and strives not to look too haughty. Usually collecting data from the older vigilante takes more coaxing (threats) and persuasion (heavy bickering) to get the desired result. Perhaps he should lend his assistance.

“Drake, where are your lights? Two pairs of eyes would obviously be quicker than one.”

“Lights?” A confused tone. “Why would I need lights? I can see just fine.”

“Tch, I’m surprised you can locate anything in this outrageous dump.”

“Mother always said I was a messy hoarder, but I have a strong belief that mess is a matter of perspective. Besides, I know exactly where everything is.”

Tim slinks out of bed and makes his way toward a pile that seems to have earned the category of lethal and shiny weapons. Damian attempts to move towards the same direction, but his foot hits an item and he just manages to make the trip look intentional. Of course, Drake was not even looking. Wait.

“Drake, is that my katana?” He points to the hilt barely poking out from the bottom, half of the weapon slithering from under the bed.

It’s a silly habit that Tim can’t shake from childhood to put the most prized things under his bed, like the old cardboard box full of pictures, a few stacks of spanish golden doubloons marked from a toddler’s teething, a cursed ruby the size of a skull, you know the usual.

“...Yes?” Tim’s head bobs up from his search and glances over at the weapon. Then, he pauses for a moment or two, his expression shifting so fast (Mine, not mine, mine, not mine) that Damian cannot place it, “Oh, sorry. I guess you’d want that back. I mean, of course you do, it belongs to you, I only had it because you were gone and–”

Drake cuts off, making no movement towards the old katana. Damian reasons it must have been acquired while he was not among the living. He doesn’t know how to feel about Drake keeping that kind of memento, yet he notes there is a definite lack of rage that usually accompanies such a theft. In addition, Drake looks like a petulant child.

“It does not matter. I no longer require a child’s katana.” Damian waves a hand to the other heaps. “The spear, however, Drake, Father needs immediately.”  

“Right.”

It is then he notices Drake’s unusual attire. The vigilante groggily separates the pile for what Damian seeks in boxers and a baggy Gotham U sweatshirt that keeps sliding over a white shoulder. How peculiar, Drake never went to college so why...ah, yes, Dick. But what really has Damian’s brows rising is the two thick watches on Tim's wrist. One that he's definitely seen on his father once before and a glint of something shiny peeking from the sweatshirt.

“Do you often sleep in diamonds, Drake?”

“They're nice to look at before bed,” Tim muttered absentmindedly.

“Is that a slogan for this new fashion statement?” Damian walks over and curiously pulls down the collar to look at it more closely. Many of the gems are larger than an egg as they lace together in the metal filigree. It covers a wide band over Drake’s collarbones before cascading towards his sternum in delicate chains. “This piece is familiar to me. Drake, are these the jewels we recovered from Catwoman?”

“One, I demand the fundamental human right to always be pretty, witty, and gay. You’ll understand when you’re older. Two, I bought these from that auction fair and square, so Selina should have keep her mangy paws off them.”  

Suddenly, Damian remembers that specific tackle to take down the thief had been...more enthusiastic and vicious on Drake’s part. Usually Father is the one to handle any incidents with her, but perhaps all it takes is emotional investment to pin down the slippery woman.

Tim pries off Damian’s fingers only to press what he seeks in them. “Here, the spear. Now, get out. If you’re gonna mock and insult me, I want four more hours of sleep first.”  

The spear is heavy, but Damian manages with a tilt to this lips. “Very well, I’ll skin and eviscerate you later, Drake.”

Drake snorts. “And, hey, you have a spear and everything. All you have to do is be knighted and we’d have the perfect fairytale set up. Farewell, Sir Brat.” He waves to the door before collapsing onto the bed, preparing his nest the way he wants it.

Damian watches the ritual all the way to the door. Stops to take in the scene one a final time. It’s strange, but it does seem like a lair from one of his grandfather’s monster stories. Dark, warm like a breathing thing, full of hidden treasure...and danger.   

How right he is.

But he comes to the realization later...much later.

**

Bruce has seen a lot.

He’s fought aliens on ships millions of lightyears from Earth and tangled with kraken under the sea. He’s negotiated with Circe for Diana’s sake and fed viruses to ruin robot armies for Clark’s. He’s handled witches, sorcerers, and time-travellers from around the world. Every night he tries to plug one of Gotham’s bleeding holes as they gush out the vile and the crazy with the Joker, Ivy, Harvey, and more.

Bruce has seen a lot.

But the universe keeps surprising him one way or another. And sometimes? Closer to the heart then he expected.

“So, you’re the drake that rejected my proposal.”

“And you’re the dame that didn’t even bother to show up to make it.”

Bruces eyes flicker back and forth between his third son and the young, literally steaming woman in front of them. Her pale white hair whips behind her like something alive. The villain of the month does the same. Apparently, Gotham has the perfect waterfront property for the taking, especially with the leyline that cuts right through the city or so the warlock just finished monologuing about.

“What are you doing? I said destroy them.” The fuming sorcerer demands pointing at the Bat-clan. Golems rise in various stages around them being the only opponents beyond the man and woman. They’re all near the Manor by the beach, a few miles from the city but even with the home field advantage...Bruce feels a thread of concern to see Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian joining him to put their backs against the cliff face below his family home.

“Just a moment, Master, I have some unfinished business to attend to.” The woman raises a hand and starts to undo her cloak.

“Master? My, my.” Tim flicks his bo to the side. It’s not going to be useful here. Ugh, this is not how he wanted this to go. “Just how low has your line fallen? Mother was right to refuse to even consider you as a candidate. Do you follow his every command or do you just lick his boots?”

“How. Dare. You.” The woman’s eyes glow yellow and her voice’s pitch becomes grating.

Tim snorts. “Look at you. You can’t even control your shift….pathetic.”

“Red Robin, the situation, now.” Bruce tries striking another golem, but Tim ducks to put himself between the Bats and the newcomers.

“You judge me, when you wear human flesh so much that you stink of it? Your true scent barely bleeds through.” The odor of rancid sulfur strikes the air. The woman peels off her clothes, layer by layer until a pile litters the sand. “Half-breed.”

Rude. The human and dragon are both his scents. Tim thinks he smells fine, thanks.

“I said–” The villain tries to command but the dame strides towards Red Robin.

“How are you different from me? The warlock will save my line and give us power, but you? You play at human.”

“I do what I want,” Tim icily states. “Which is more that I can say for you. Now get out of my territory or burn.”

“No, I think I’m going to put a male in his place. Beneath me.” And the woman lets out a cry that turns into a roar. The other Bats watch as the woman’s form hutches over, makes a terrible crack and then grows. And grows. And grows. Scales take shape as her neck elongates and it’s sickening. Before them a white dragon rises and crashes a claw on the beach. It’s the size of a house.

‘Well…’ Bruce thinks. ‘That’s something new.’

“A dragon, come on. You have to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Jason snarls, shooting at the beast. The rubber bullets do nothing but irritate the overgrown Godzilla-wanna-be.

“Wait, it gets better,” Tim mutters. “So, burn it is. This is why we can’t have nice things between dragons. What a pity...bring it.”

And there is a collective gasp.

Because Tim smirks and the beach is overcome with a violent blast. When the smoke clears...there’s nothing?

Nothing but the golems on the beach, the Bats fighting them and the warlock hissing out commands to a white giant worm, who is diverting much from his cunning plan.

But no Tim.

The white dragon shrieks in fury and raises her giant wings, preparing to crush those on the sand when something large slams into her side. She lurches over and peers over her shoulder. Nothing. But several of her scales are cracked from the impact.

Then, it’s as if thunder booms right in front of them, making their eardrums ring from the force of the sound. Under the blow, the white worm topples forward attempting to steady herself.

It’s shadowy and massive, a heavy body and the thumping beat of wings. It’s slowly moving into the moonlight on the beach, kicking up sand.

The Bats shields their eyes even with the whiteouts down, the gust knocking into kevlar and nomac. Nightwing automatically throws an arm out to keep Robin from falling; Hood makes an unconscious grab to the other arm.

And when he lights down, massive razor-tipped claws digging into the sand, the black scales and shiny leather of wings give the Bats one hell of an answer to all those burning questions.

Timmy’s always cold.

The cave, the hoard.

The night vision.

The ever-ready exploding “pellets”.

All of it comes to a sudden dawning realization.

The baddie of the night looks from one dragon to the other, trepidation leaking in because who would have thought two dragons at once.

Low muttering, winding a spell even as the new dragon throws back his power neck and roars. It shakes them down to their very bones, a sound unlike any they’ve heard before.

The shift of muscle, dark eyes narrowing, and the first lunge is punctuated by the abrupt cries of the Bats who have come to the realization this is one of their own.

But there’s no pause when claws come up to strike, when the first is a good one, raking into his side, putting his first blow into soft underbelly, close to the intended target.

(Only one way to kill a dragon, the heart has to go.)

“Motherfuck--Tim!” But Hood can do nothing but watch the blood, ripe and rich in the night splatter the beach, hoping stupidly it ain’t all Red’s.

“Get to the sides!” the Batman roars, already moving, already reaching for the next weapon in his belt.

He sees the opening when both dragons rear up on hind legs for the next blow, his gauntlet spitting out flash pellets.

It’s go time as the rest of the Robins take it all in and move. Robin pulls a duck and dodge through legs with a batarangs ready for the baddie on the other side.

Hood pulls a whole lotta how ya’ doin’ when the .45s spit a few rubber bullets right on the gouge marks, sliding through the sand as the bigger dragon leans down to latch teeth into Tim’s neck and hold the fuck on.

Nightwing leaps, even with the sand trying to bog him down, both sticks out in a double blow at the exposed weakness behind the white dragon’s ear. He has enough time to cringe at the sound of pain tearing into the night, to see the gleam of claws sinking into her belly in a knee-jerk reaction.

The fight going on behind them, the golem starting to shift and move at the sorcerer’s botched command, and Robin just breathes out a deep damn sigh because honestly, some of us have homework to dumb down. But he shifts, pulling out pellets in rapid succession as he moves closer to the army. The abrupt, “huu,” is just more proof he is a superior marksman. The mental note to pick up the tome from which those accursed spells emanate from is another task on the night’s to-do list.

The abrupt shock of Nightwing’s stick and the barrage of bullets takes its toll, getting the white dragon to jerk away from that black jugular, to rear back with pain.

The claws sink deeper, Red growling low, smoke curling from his maw. His eyes slide to the sides, making sure the Bats are out of firing range before he opens his maw with that familiar and suddenly very telling click.

“Down!” It’s Batman that throws the last exploding batarang within range to the white dragon’s injured belly, so the blast of burning blue flame ignites, sets the soft, vulnerable innards to char.

Red, however, takes the last blow for his own (because she picked the wrong fucking city, the wrong family, the wrong dragon to fuck with), claws sinking in, and the meaty thump in the center is just at the right place to reach.

Low and huffing, “try me.”

“You wouldn’t,” her voice cracks from agony.

“Threaten what’s mine, and I won’t think twice.” He gives just the smallest squeeze to punctuate the point.

“Better not fuck with him, bitch,” Hood’s voice, lazy through the synths while he eyes the army Demon is gonna be taking on, “he ain’t one ta joke.”

The white dragon growls and the iridescent black dragon can feel her tensing up as if to give her last hurrah, to go out with a bang, but he’s having none of that. He snarls, the sound deep from within his chest as he snaps his jaws just in front of the dame’s face, sparks clicking behind his gleaming ivory teeth. “You should know,” he practically purrs, “there are fates worse than death. Don’t. Push. Me.” His words, his threat (a bluff, shh), thankfully, gets the right reaction. She sags with a trailing growl, eyes glittering with malice and defeat.

“Go. Get out of my territory.” The words leave no argument.

“W-Who…” she spits blood, dotting the sand, “who would want...your...shoddy terr-territory anyway.”

Slowly, he retracts, pulling his claws back while the click echoes against the bluff, a warning and a promise. But the dame doesn’t move to start the fight up again. She needs time to heal the grievous injuries. The mage will earn his own fate.

“And now, next on the list,” Nightwing sighs, looking from the dragon to where Robin has starting whipping out the tricks and traps on the moving golem.

“By the way, Timmers,” Hood’s neck cranes as he look up at the massive face hanging low, the chest heaving with that little scuffle. “You ever think, hmm, I dunno to say you might be a motherfucking dragon or some shit? I mean, don’t they say that shit right off the fucking bat?”

The dragon huffs down at him as Hood holds up a hand to demonstrate, “‘nice ta meetcha. Name’s Timmy. Like long flights ‘round the beach, beatin’ the shit outta assholes, and literally roasting my enemies.

Ya know, just the usual shit for Gotham.”