#he returns the plate years later and Alfred just raises an eyebrow

[alyakthedorklord]

Tim, sleep deprived + making coffee with five hour energy instead of water in front of his protesting family: If no one comes back from the future to stop me, how bad of an idea can it really be?

Future!Damian, made friends with Infinite Realms Royalty and discovered they had the infi-map, a time travelling artifact that he recognizes from the funniest thing that ever happened to him in his childhood: Hello Timothy.

Tim, nearly jumping out of his skin: OH HOLY- Damian?

Future!Damian: 😁

Batfam: 😳

Young Damian: 🫵😦

Tim: …ok there’s NO WAY that drinking this will-

Future!Damian: You’ll never find out, because you’re not going to try. Now hand over those cookies, I promised an inter-dimensional death deity I’d get him some if he let me do this. Also- (tosses random cryptic Clockwork message that will make sense eventually and Save the Day™ onto the table)

Future!Damian, very ominously: Take care of yourself, Timothy *vanishes with a flourish of the map and cackling echoey laughter, leaving the family cookie-less and in shock.*

Alfred: …Did he have to take the plate?

[ragingbookdragon]

The Best Of Us

Batfamily x M!Reader

Word Count: 3,035 Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: And here we are with a Batbrother fic! Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t an inferiority complex. Not really. He wasn’t prone to anger or any of the other symptoms listed under it—and he checked. Multiple times. But there was something about being the only non-vigilante in his family of vigilantes that made him feel inadequate compared to the rest. Bruce had the Justice League, Dick and Jason had their own fantastic groups that saved the day, and Tim and Damian were still in school, but even they had their groups too. Hell, even Alfred still had contacts from his days in MI-5. And yet, he had none of the skills his brothers or father had, no extensive martial arts training, master detective skills, or weapon mastery. He was completely normal—or maybe abnormal in this case. And on some level, he resented that he couldn’t be like his family—maybe he did have an inferiority complex.

***

The greatest thing in (Y/N)’s mind about still being allowed to live at home was that no matter what, there was always food around to eat—Alfred saw to it that every growing man in the house had enough to eat—that being said, their grocery bills were outrageouslyexpensive.

He balanced his tablet in one hand, the other hand adjusting the tie around his neck as he stepped into the kitchen, quick to raise the tablet in time to avoid whacking his youngest brother in the head.

“Morning,” he greeted, taking his seat at the table, just after Jason’s. A chorus of tired, ‘mornings’ came back at him and he quirked an eyebrow. “Wow, loving the enthusiasm this morning, guys.”

Jason snorted and propped his chin on his palm, watching (Y/N) for a moment. “I seriously don’t understand how you’re always so chipper in the morning.”

He huffed a laugh and took a sip of the coffee that Alfred set down. “Someone has to be the ray of sunshine in this group of gray clouds.” (Y/N) cast a glance at Dick who was shoveling eggs into his mouth. “And it seems like our eldest is busy feeding his bottomless pit.” Dick was fast to shoot him a glare, that he returned with a smile.

Just then, Tim trudged into the kitchen in an oversized hoodie and plopped down in his seat, immediately shoving the plate in front of him to drop his head onto the table.

“Jesus Christ, you guys,” (Y/N) sighed, flicking at his tablet for a moment. “You’ve seriously gotta take a day off to recuperate.”

“What do you think we do during the day?” Dick retorted, taking a swig of milk.

“Okay I think you’re confusing the entire day with the first half,” he reasoned. “When I say take a day off, I mean the whole twenty-four hours.” He glanced at everyone, and the only person who seemed to not be tired was Alfred, and that’s partly because (Y/N) believed he was immortal. “You guys are gonna run yourselves into the ground,” he said. “I just don’t think—”

“We know what we are doing, (Y/N),” Damian interrupted with a glare. “We know our limits better than you do.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head. This conversation had happened many times before and it wasn’t anything new.

“I’m not saying I know them better than you Damian, I’m simply saying that you guys should take a day to relax so that something doesn’t happen on the job that you can’t control.”

(Y/N) glanced at his father. “Dad, c’mon, you know I’ve got a point.”

Bruce hummed and flipped the page of the newspaper. “So does Damian.” He met (Y/N)’s eyes and nodded. “You don’t have to worry so much, (Y/N). We know what we can handle.”

He stared at Bruce for a moment then scowled. “I don’t even know why I bother,” he muttered, and Damian was fast to chase his comment.

“I don’t know why you bother either. You’ve never once experienced what we do every night.”

(Y/N) met his youngest sibling’s glare. “Just because I don’t stick my neck out for each person in this city night after night doesn’t mean that I don’t know what it’s like to be exhausted.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you know what it’s like to be exhausted from blood loss because you’ve been stabbed or shot? Or to be exhausted from saving the lives of innocent people? You do?”

“I—” (Y/N)’s mouth opened, then he snapped it shut and looked away with a darkened expression, tasting something sour in his mouth. “No, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought,” Damian finalized, and in the wake of the uncomfortable tension, a cellphone went off.

Everyone started looking for theirs, but (Y/N) muttered, “It’s mine.”

He picked it up and put on a cheerful voice. “Good morning Angela…yes, I just got the floor plan…” he tapped at the screen on his tablet. “Do me a favor and move the people from table eight to table three. Mr. Robinson is better friends with Mrs. Grace and will certainly give us a warmer atmosphere in that area.”

(Y/N) paused and listened, then he stood from the table and pushed his chair in. “Let me get to the office and we can situate the rest of the guests for tonight…alright, see you soon. Bye.”

He pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call, then took the black backpack that Alfred was holding to him. “Thanks Alfred.”

“Of course, Master (Y/N). Have a pleasant day at work.”

He huffed a laugh, but it was anything but amused. “I have to give a speech tonight in front of the entire company and three different magazines.” He glanced at Bruce. “Think you’ll be able to attend tonight? It’d mean a lot to me.” Bruce grunted, his way of telling (Y/N) that he’d try, but to not hope for a miracle.

It was fine, he was used to parentless ceremonies and events. He cleared his throat and shrugged on the backpack, making his way to the garage door.

“See you guys later.”

***

He’d given a few speeches in his short twenty-four years, and while he’d never say he was an expert on public speaking, he did know his way around a podium. That being said, every time he had to do a speech, he felt like vomiting—nerves he chocked it up to.

(Y/N) cast a glance around the packed ballroom, quietly groaning at the massive amount of people. His own table was empty, save for Angela and thank god for him, Lucius. He couldn’t help but frown at the name tags sitting in front of the empty seats.

“Wondering where the rest of the gang is?”

He met Lucius’ eyes and gave a halfhearted smile. “I’d like to think they took my advice and took the night off but…something tells me that the night called to them.” His lips pulled downwards. “I’m not going to act like this is a surprise, Lucius. I couldn��t even get them to show up for my university graduation.”

(Y/N) smiled and stood up, grabbing the notecards beside him. “What makes you think I could get them to show up to this?” He left the table and moved to the side of the stage, waiting for his name to be called. His fingers briefly shifted to his chest, feeling his heart fluttering beneath chest, nerves causing his breathing to come in short bursts. (Y/N) shut his eyes and took a deep breath, letting a pleasant smile cross his face as the presenter called his name, and walked up the steps.

The bright flash of photography momentarily blinded him, but he smiled through it. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight at the Centennial Inside Alliance Award Ceremony.” He flashed everyone a million-watt smile. “My name is (Y/N) Wayne, and as many of you know, I am a senior editor for Inside Alliance. It is my pleasure tonight to recognize Inside Alliance’s top writer for the year.”

(Y/N) glanced around the room, making sure to catch the eyes of the hundreds of guests.

“Inside Alliance was created on August fourteenth, nineteen-twenty by a group of immigrant mothers and fathers who wanted to bring knowledge of their homes and cultures to the rest of world. Some of those countries being Germany, Romania, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Israel, and many, many others.”

“The production of their valuable time and extensive care created one of the greatest magazines that is still in business today, that brings attention to the worldwide issues that many groups face, while still connecting to their roots of educating the public on cultures and groups.”

He smiled. “It is with my upmost honor that I congratulate and introduce Miss Flora Janaliyeva, one of our newest and greatest writers that has joined Inside Alliance, and the winner of tonight’s Inside Alliance Award.”

(Y/N) turned to the side and grinned at Flora as she ascended the stairs. Her long black hair was braided down the length of her back and she wore a bright and floral-patterned gown. She reached (Y/N) and he reached with his right, shaking her hand, and handed her the glass award with the other.

“Miss Janaliyeva, it is with honor and congratulations that I give you this award for your excellent talent and recognition of ability from Inside Alliance.”

She smiled brightly and accepted the award. “Thank you, Mister Wayne, the honor is mine.” He nodded politely once more and descended the stairs as she began her speech, quietly taking his place back at the table.

“Well done, Mister Wayne,” Lucius smiled and (Y/N) let out a deep breath.

“I’m just surprised I was able to do that without stuttering or panicking.” He glanced over, smile lowering slightly. “Lucius, are you alright?”

The older man dabbed at his forehead and nodded, though when he breathed, it sounded labored. “I’m fine,” he assured, then reached up to rub at his chest.

(Y/N) shifted. “I don’t think you’re alright Lucius.” He leaned over. “Are you having chest pain?”

“I—yes,” he grit out then met (Y/N)’s gaze. “My chest is getting—tight and I…and I—”

He started to slump over and (Y/N) shot to his feet, eyes widening with fear. “Lucius!” The yell startled the crowd and Flora, who all looked over at the two.

(Y/N) pulled the older man back and pressed his ear to his chest, listening. He pulled away and yelled, “Someone call an ambulance! I think he’s having a heart attack!”

He helped Lucius to the floor and immediately pressed his palms to the man’s chest, starting compressions. His breath came in panicked spurts and he kept looking at Lucius’ face.

“Just hand on Lucius. You’re going to be okay.” (Y/N) kept at it until the EMT’s arrived and they knelt beside them.

“Let us take over.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, too afraid that if he did, Lucius would die, but one of the EMT’s placed a hand on his shoulder while the other slide their hands underneath (Y/N)’s.

“Son, we’ll take it from here.”

(Y/N)’s arms went slack, and he let the medic pull him away, watching as they took over and started moving him onto the stretcher.

“Please, save him. He’s—he’s friends with my family I—”

The medic nodded firmly. “We’ll do all we can.”

And all (Y/N) remembered was someone ushering him into a taxi heading for the hospital.

***

The first people that arrived were Lucius’ family who were grateful for (Y/N)’s actions, but the young man could barely grimace as they disappeared into the hospital room, leaving him sitting outside, his head in his hands. Tears gathered in his eyes as he thought back to what the ER doctor told him.

***

“Mister Fox is in a stable condition, but you have to understand, Mister Wayne, his heart is very weak.”

“But—but he’ll be okay right?”

“Based on Mister Fox’s past conditions, he’s verging into heart failure. His heart is too weak to keep up with what the body needs.”

“And…and what does his body need at this point?”

“At this point? A new heart.”

***

He sucked in a breath and fought to keep the sob from escaping his throat, just as heard, “(Y/N)!”

His head shot up and he saw his father and older brothers coming down the hallway. (Y/N) clambered to his feet.

“Dad I—” he started, but cut off as he choked on a sob, and Bruce pulled him into a hug, holding (Y/N) as he sobbed. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I tried my best but—”

“Shh,” Bruce hushed, a firm, but gentle hand coming to rest at the back of his son’s neck. “You did all that you could.”

He pulled back and wiped his face. “But Lucius needs a new heart, and I don’t know what to do. I should’ve seen this coming. He hasn’t been feeling well the past few weeks and I—”

“(Y/N),” his father said firmly, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. He met Bruce’s eyes. “This wasn’t your fault.”

His libs wobbled and he whispered, “But if I were like you guys, I would’ve seen something earlier. I didn’t and now…” sighing, he added, “and now Lucius needs a new heart, or he’ll die.”

Bruce’s sigh was heavier than (Y/N)’s and it made his chest heavy. “We’ll get Lucius a new heart, (Y/N).”

He lowered his head and lamented, “I’m sorry, dad.”

His father squeezed his shoulder then lead him towards Dick and Jason. “Take (Y/N) back home for the night. I’ll stay here with Lucius’ family.”

They nodded and led their brother down the hall, arms firm across his shoulders in a comforting way. They didn’t say anything, knowing that there wasn’t much to offer, but their support was enough for (Y/N), even if he felt horrible.

***

For being the World’s Greatest Detective, his son was evidently the World Best Hider, because it took Bruce a long time to finally find (Y/N). He stepped quietly over to the form sitting on the ledge and took a seat beside him, silently gazing out at the backyard. A bottle appeared in his vision and he focused on it as the smell of whiskey reached his nose.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked but took the bottle anyway.

“Jason gave it to me earlier.” He watched Bruce take a sip. “Figured it fit the occasion.”

Bruce chuckled. “That sounds like Jason’s way of dealing with a problem.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth, simply enjoying the calm around the manor and night.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Bruce suddenly said.

(Y/N) sighed and set the bottle down, kicking his legs out off the roof. “Lucius said he hadn’t been feeling well recently. And I just passed it up to getting older.” He looked at his father. “If I’d actually paid attention, then I would’ve seen the symptoms.”

“Do you actually know what the symptoms of heart failure and heart attack are?”

“I…no, not really.”

“Then you couldn’t’ve known.” He looked at (Y/N). “Lucius works in my office every day. If anyone should’ve known and seen it, it should’ve been me.” Bruce shook his head. “But you did everything you could at the awards ceremony, and that saved Lucius’ life tonight. You did good.”

“I could’ve done better.” (Y/N) muttered. “I should’ve. I’m your son and I’m practically useless to the family but—”

“Woah, woah,” Bruce interrupted, brows furrowing as he asked, “What are you talking about?”

(Y/N) turned to him. “I am the least useful person in this family. I mean you and the guys are these crazy intelligent, vigilante master detectives and I’m just me.” He wiped away a tear that fell from his eye. “I can’t speak seven different languages or solve murder cases with a single strand of DNA left at the scene of a crime. Hell, I can’t even throw a punch.” He sighed heavily. “The last time I tried, I broke my hand.”

Meeting his father’s gaze, he said, “I just want to be like you guys.” He lowered his head. “I just want to be normal and not an outlier in the family.”

Bruce simply stared at him for a long moment, and while he’d never been privy to let his emotions show on his face, he let them this time—shock and shame. Shame that he didn’t see his greatest achievement suffering.

“(Y/N).”

He didn’t look up at first, but then he did. “Yes sir?”

“How long have you felt like this?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Forever?”

His father sighed. “Son, I…I never wanted you to be like us.”

He gaped at Bruce. “What?”

“(Y/N), every person in this family is driven to do what we do because of our childhoods. You’re the only one who doesn’thave any skeletons in his closet.” He stared at him. “We wish every day that we could be like you and not a day goes by that we don’t think that.”

“I…what?” he floundered, absolutely bewildered at the idea that his father and brothers wanted to be the most boring person ever. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It is.”

“No.” (Y/N) huffed. “I’m me. I’m plain and boring, work a nine to five job me. I mean I write for a magazine for god sakes! And you guys save the world!”

Bruce chuckled. “And what we wouldn’t give to be just a bit more normal like you, son.” He shrugged. “You think you’re inferior because you’re not a vigilante, but you’re the one thing that keeps us all sane. You give us the perspective of someone who isn’t what we are. Of someone who’s completely normal.”

He reached over and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “And being normal? Being you?” Bruce squeezed firmly. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.”

(Y/N) gazed at him, and though he felt tears in his eyes, he didn’t blink, didn’t let them fall. “I’ve only ever wanted to make you proud.”

Bruce smiled heartfully. “You do, (Y/N). Everyday. Because you’ve always been the best of us.”

[flyingkiki]

A Very Merry Christmas (2/4)

Full steam ahead! I'm back for more steamy TimRae content! Enjoy, my loves.

Chapter One is HERE. A Very Merry Christmas, Chapter 1.

~~

“Good morning.”

Raven tensed and immediately looked over her shoulder to see Bruce, dressed in pajamas, appear under the arch of the living room’ doorway. She blinked, surprised at how she was not able to catch his aura or emotions – but then again, that would be Batman for you. It stunned her at times how she could oftentimes read nothing from the man. She watched him walk into the room, his movements not making a sound.

“Good morning,” she replied, offering a small smile before involuntarily folding her arms across her chest. Tim’s soft sweater offering some comfort. “You’re up early.”

The corner of Bruce’s lips quirked just a little bit in response. “I’m usually up at this time to prepare for work and start the day,” he replied.

Raven hummed lowly in agreement and returned to staring out the window. It was still dark outside; sunlight would be in another couple of hours thanks to winter. The garden lamps outside illuminated the snowy garden beautifully and Raven had spent the last few minutes just staring blankly out the window and watching illuminated snowflakes drift from the sky.

“Tim’s practically the same. Though he usually stays up until dawn for work and catches whatever little sleep he can. It’s horrible,” Raven said, a fond smile playing on her lips at the memory of Tim hunched over a laptop in his bedroom back in Gotham. “Though he usually gets into bed with a few threats,”

Bruce sighed. “He works himself to the bone.”

“He does.” Raven agreed.

A heavy silence fell over them as Bruce and Raven continued to stare out the window. Raven shifted, pressing her arms just a little tighter to her chest as her discomfort grew. Perhaps it would have been best to have just stayed in bed with Tim. She shot Bruce a quick glance before watching a few snowflakes disappear into a rosebush.

“Thank you for taking care of him,”

Raven starts, looking up at the sudden confession. She blinked, feeling the faint whispers of emotions from Bruce. Her fingers curled into Tim’s sweater as she mulls over Bruce’s words. Raven tilted her head just a little bit and released a soft breath. “He’s been taking care of me too,” she replied, silently recalling her own personal struggles recently.

“We all went through some difficult times,” Bruce said, his voice low in the quiet of the room. Raven held her breath, watching as a few emotions flickered across his face. “Tim more so. I – I,” Bruce blinked and paused, visibly struggling with words. Inhaling softly, Bruce absently tapped the mug he was holding. “I have many regrets.”

Raven felt her stomach twist and she watched Bruce swallow. “You’re trying now,” she said after finding her voice. “Tim knows that. He’s trying too,”

Bruce stared out the window, seemingly lost in thought. Raven saw a broken expression flicker in his eyes briefly, before turning to Raven and offering a small smile. “I love my children though I’m terrible at showing it,” He told her. He inhaled softly and released a rueful chuckle. “I’d never imagine parenting to be this difficult,”

Raven tilted her head and smiled. “It doesn’t come with a user manual, does it?” Bruce returned the smile. Her lips quired at a thought. “Though I’d doubt you’d be type to read the manual.” A fond expression crossed her face and a smile played on her lips as she turned back to the window. “I’d think Tim would though.”

Bruce chuckled and nodded his head. He returned to watching the snow too. “That’s right.”

Raven dropped her hands from around her, tension leaving her. It was still pretty early, perhaps it would be good to return to bed briefly before everyone woke up. Bruce may like some time alone, after this rather strange heart-to-heart encounter. “I –”

“I’m sorry,”

Raven paused and stared wide eyed at Bruce. She held her breath, starting up at the older man expectantly. “Bruce,” she whispered. A swarm of mixed emotions blossomed in her chest and she watched as Bruce looked at her with a rare, apologetic look.

“13 years ago, we made a terrible mistake. We allowed our prejudices cloud our judgement and refused to help a 13-year-old girl asking for our help,” Bruce stared at Raven, for a moment seeing that distraught young girl. He paused and watched Raven’s surprised reaction. “We are an institution that is supposed to help. But we failed you. I have seen your work and the Titans you have built over the years, I’d like to think you’ve become a hero far greater than most of us. I deeply regret our decision – my decision – on that day. I know that trust is hard to build but, I’m sorry for what happened on that night. I hope you can forgive me for my mistakes,”

Raven inhaled softly and for a brief second she remembered that night at the Watch Tower and the silence she received from the Justice League. She remembered Batman and his empty emotions, and she looked up at the same man now and felt his emotions, regret, tickle her own. It took her aback. “Bruce,” she whispered. She blinked, pulling herself out of the memory. “I—thank you,” she whispered. She gave him a rueful smile. “You were being a parent, protecting his home,”

Bruce swallowed, an emotion flickering in his eyes. His lips quirked into a rueful smile of his own. “I’m a parent now trying to correct and learn from my mistakes,”

~

“I’m kinda hurt you didn’t tell me,” Dick shot Raven a playful smile over the kitchen counter as they helped Alfred prepare breakfast later that morning.

Raven rolled her eyes and transferred some fresh pancakes on a plate. “You didn’t tell us you and Star were dating. Just taking notes,” she shot back.

Dick snagged a strawberry from the plate she prepared, much to her annoyance. “Told you a week after,”

“Well, you know now.” Raven replied and pushed the plate of finished pancakes towards Dick. She raised an eyebrow as he eyed the pancakes skeptically. “Alfred made them,” she said. She had been delegated to plating duty after confessing to Alfred that she wasn’t very much useful in the kitchen outside from making tea and toast. Tim had been trying to teach her to cook, but what little time they had together was not spent in the kitchen, admittedly (more like the kitchen floor, but that wasn’t something she would openly admit to Tim’s family). Alfred had promised her to teach her to make Tim’s favorite cookies later though. She hoped they’d be passable.

Dick took another strawberry from the plate. “Yeah. Over a year late,”

They heard Alfred putter in the background, finishing up a final batch of pancakes. Raven dutifully waited by the counter for the final few pancakes for her to plate. “To be fair, nobody really knew.”

Dick propped his elbow on the counter and dropped his chin into his hand as he eyed her. His face contorted. “I feel bad that you felt like you had to keep it a secret,” he told her.

Raven shrugged her shoulders dismissively. She absently rolled a blueberry between her fingers. “Don’t be. We just wanted privacy,” she smiled. “It was nice keeping this just for us,”

“Something as precious as love is always best kept close,” Alfred offered Raven a pleasant smile as he placed a final stack of pancakes in front of her ready for plating. Raven returned the smile, the warm emotions of Alfred tickling her own.

Raven hummed in agreement and the three shared amused smiles. “Besides,” continued Raven and started distributing pancakes onto different plates. “I honestly did not want Gar or Jinx annoy the crap out of me with all their teasing.”

Dick made an agreeing sound in the back of his throat. “I’m still surprised nobody caught on.”

The corners of Raven’s lips quirked just a little bit. “I think Cyborg got suspicious at one point. He caught me once when I was not in the Tower. I leave my comms with the tracker in my room when I go out,” at the look of Dick’s disapproving face, she rolled her eyes. “And take my untraceable comms with me, every time. My tracker said I was at the tower but I wasn’t in my room. Cy got a suspicious. Told him I had to return a book. We were actually in New York,”

Dick raised his eyebrow. “New York?”

“Broadway.” Raven smirked. “Hamilton.”

Dick rolled his eyes at her smirk. “Cyborg’s going to blow a fuse.”

Raven chuckled and nudged all plates into his direction, ready for serving to the rest of the Batfamily. “To be honest, I’m kind of disappointed none of you caught on.”

Tim took this time to shuffle into the kitchen, still in his pajamas and looking disheveled and sleepy. “Terrible detective skills if you ask me,” he yawned and shot Dick a sleepy grin. Dick retaliated by quickly giving his younger brother the finger just as Alfred turned his back on them. Tim maturely returned the finger while crowding into Raven’s space and throwing an arm around her waist.

“Morning,” Tim offered Raven a sleepy smile and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I was wondering where you went.”

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” Raven shrugged and smiled. She handed Tim one of the plates with pancakes and blueberries.

Jason made a face as he entered the kitchen for his plate of pancakes. “Please don’t talk about your sex lives this early in the morning. We do not want to know what kept you up all night,” he shot Tim an annoyed look.

Dick looked scandalized and shot Jason a dark glare. “Jason!” The last thing he wanted to hear was that his little brother and one of his best friends were having sex. Dick felt a little sick.

Jason lazily leaned over the kitchen counter and pointedly stared at Dick with a bland expression. “Don’t say you didn’t too!”

“You are terrible,” Tim frowned and made a grab for the coffee pot.

Jason pointed a finger at Tim and offered him a wink. “I know it,”

Raven rolled her eyes and shoved a plate of pancakes for Jason to take. She watched him grudgingly take the stack and her lips quirked just a little bit. Despite the storm of emotions Jason usually carried with him, she could feel the light banter behind his words.

“Let’s have breakfast, shall we?” Alfred appeared at the foot of the kitchen island carrying a tray of coffee and hot chocolate. “I am sure Master Bruce and Master Damian are already waiting and hungry,”

They all nodded in agreement and shuffled around the kitchen island, picking up plates of pancakes and trays of fruits. Tim nudged Raven gently and they exchanged small smiles. “All good?” he asked her as they followed the rest of the group towards the dining area.

Raven hummed softly and nodded. She felt Tim’s gentle brush of concern and she nodded. Recalling the early morning conversation with Bruce, she realized what tension was left in her shoulders had disappeared. Offering Tim a smile, she juggled the plates of pancakes in her hands and nudged her concerned boyfriend with her shoulder again. “All good,” she replied softly only for them to hear. Entering the dining area, they joined the rest of the Batfamily at the table, depositing stacks of pancakes in front of everyone. Raven caught Bruce’s eye as she settled down next to Tim. The older man offered a small smile and nodded in her direction. Returning Bruce’s smile, Raven allowed herself to slowly let go of her worries of the past. All was good.

~

“And this is still Wayne property?” Raven asked, her voice carrying through the cold winter air. She surveyed the frozen forest, appreciating the sight of a pure white landscape. They were a good distance from the house, walking past a frozen lake and over a snowy hill.

After two days of just staying indoors, baking (and taking out fires that came with it), board games, and movies, Tim had decided they both needed a break from the rest of the group. While he loved his family and it warmed his heart to see Raven slowly take to the rest of the Batfamily, they both needed some much-needed alone time. There was just so much smothering and sex jokes he could take from Dick and Jason.

They decided a quick hike into the forest would do them some good. Raven suggested they take his old camera with them so he could do some photography. Most of the pictures he took were of Raven though, admittedly.

“Yeah, sort of?” Tim replied, lowering his camera after taking a photo of a snow bunny. He smiled as the little creature scurried away after catching sight of them. Turning back to Raven and watching her carefully step over a dead log.

“Sort of?” Raven looked up and eyed him curiously.

“I think this is the edge of the property?” Tim looked around in the clearing they were in, cataloging the trees and calculating the distance they had walked. “Yeah, pretty much the edge of the property.”

Raven stuffed her gloved hands into her jacket and bounced on her heels to get some warmth into her body. “It’s such a huge property,” she whispered and watched her breath condense. There was a winter snap lingering in Gotham and it had been snowing for days. Thankfully it had stopped snowing today. Raven looked around briefly, appreciating the snowy quiet.

“Apparently B’s great grandparents kept this place as a farm back in the day. There’s a really old barn at the back of the house,” Tim told her. He absently took a photo of the dead tree branches, capturing the spiny outline they cast in the sky. He threw an amused smile over his shoulder. “Farming didn’t stick with Bruce. It really wasn’t his hobby of choice,”

Raven chuckled in amusement and stepped up to him, watching as he took a few more landscape photos and clearly enjoying himself. She was glad they were able to do something he liked. “That’s good. I don’t think any of you would be great farm boys,” she teased.

“Hey,” Tim chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I’d invent something to speed up farm processes in no time. Shouldn’t be too difficult,”

“Careful,” Raven chided, purple eyes danced in amusement and she quickly sidestepped Tim as he tried to reach for her. “Your nerd is showing,”

Tim released a loud bark of laughter. Reaching out with his gloved hand, he tried to make a grab for her. Snorting at her playfulness and he watched her slip out of his reach. “Raven,” Tim whined playfully and dropped his camera to dangle over his shoulder. Quickly catching up with her, he caught her wrist and pulled her towards him. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he chuckled as she squirmed in his grasp and tried to elbow her way out of it. Tim grinned at her frustrated whine and tsked lowly in the back of his throat. “So mean,”

Raven let out a soft huff and stopped wriggling. Leaning into his embrace, she conceded to the fact that she was not slipping out of Tim’s embrace (though honestly, with a little fight she could, really). Inhaling Tim’s familiar aftershave, she slowly melted into his embrace and relished the familiar warm press of his body against hers. Coming up to her toes, she pressed a clumsy kiss to his flushed right cheek. “What are you going to do about it?” she whispered playfully into his ear.

Tim groaned. “Raven,” he whispered and held her closer, fingers digging into her hips. Adjusting his hold around her, he leaned forward and captured her lips into a needy kiss. He felt her breathy chuckle and wrap her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Ignoring the biting cold and the uncomfortable press of his camera into his ribs, Tim sighed and savored the kiss. Humming softly at the kiss, Tim slipped one of his hands down her back and cupped her ass.

Feeling his hot flare of emotions feed her own and the tantalizing grope of her butt, Raven inhaled softly and pulled herself away from Tim. “Tim,” she breathed and dropped her chin on his shoulder, steadying her heartbeat and quickly glancing around the empty forest. “Someone might see,” she whispered, and swallowed as Tim continued to press closer to her and hotly press a kiss into her neck.

Slipping his hands away from her butt and over her hips, Tim ignored her and shifted both their hips towards each other into a delicious press that simply made the freezing outdoor temperature disappear. Pressing another needy kiss onto the underside of her chin, Tim sighed against her skin. “We’re alone,” he whispered, and hands traveled again over her back.

“Tim.” Whispered Raven, her words disappearing into a sigh as she melted into another long kiss. Her gloved fingers curled into his thick winter jacket to steady her as she felt his slick tongue slip against her own. A warmth bubbled lowly within her, and she keened softly, knees growing week and desperately chased after his lips. The cold wind tickled her flushed, warm cheeks, seemingly adding fire to the heady emotions.

Raven gasped as Tim shifted them ever so slightly, one strong leg slipping in between hers and gently pressing against the growing heat between her legs. Teeth scraped against her jaw and her fingers dug deep into his jacket as she felt her emotions purr. She whimpered as she felt his soft breathing in her ear.

“Tim,” whispered Raven, eyes flying open as she heard the distant snap of a twig. She blinked, pulling away but holding onto the man in front of her and relishing Tim’s hot breath fan over her cheek. She briefly looked over his shoulder, just to make sure they were alone.

Tim chuckled softly, swallowing and catching his breath. Catching on her worry, Tim pressed forward and kissed her cheek gently. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Finding his center, he straightened and pulled Raven’s hands away from his back. Slipping his gloved fingers against her left hand, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s walk around a bit?”

Raven hummed and nodded, allowing Tim to tug her along through the snowy forest. They remained quiet for the most part, catching their emotions and enjoying the quiet noise the forest had to offer.

They reached another clearing with a massive tree off the center. Tim tugged her towards the tree and pointed at the large treehouse that sat up in the baren branches. “We built that when the little demon spawn came to live with us,” he told her.

The tree house was large, made of old, sturdy wood, and obviously built to last. It stood out in the white snowy background. Raven squeezed Tim’s hand and eyed him curiously. “You built that for Damian?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. He threw her an amused smile and pulled her towards the tree. “We thought it would make the eight-year-old brat less, uh, deadly. You know, give the kid a treehouse to have some semblance of a childhood, not that any of us really knew what that was, really.”

Raven’s lips curled into a small smile and followed Tim towards the back of the tree. “Did he like it?”

Tim brushed away some snow from the steps that were fixed to the side of the tree. He snorted and gave Raven a wry grin. “He knocked out Jason and left him tied up in this treehouse for 6 hours,” he told her.

Raven frowned and watched as Tim started to climb up the small stairs. “What are you doing?”

Tim threw an amused smile over his shoulder as he stopped his climb up the stairs. “C’mon. Don’t you want to check it out?”

Raven drew her brows together and eyed the large structure skeptically. “Is this even safe?”

“You of little faith,” Tim chuckled. He continued his short climb up the steps and pushed against the floor door to open it. When it released from its internal lock, he looked down and saw Raven at the foot of the stairs. “We built the Batcave. This is basically a fortress of treehouses,”

Raven rolled her eyes and slapped his calf. “Shut up. Your nerd is showing again.” She smiled as he caught her eye and laughed. Raven watched Tim jostle the door a bit more before pushing it open. He climbed throw the hole and turned around to stick his hand out and help Raven through the door. Climbing through the hole, Raven was sure she heard the old treehouse creak under their weight but kept quiet.

“Some fortress,” Raven said dryly, looking around the bare room. An old table stood in one corner of the treehouse. She watched Tim remove his camera from his shoulder and carefully place it on the table.

Tim rolled his eyes at her and walked around the space, looking out one of the two windows. “It’s a treehouse, what do you expect?”

“I don’t know. Maybe like a BatTreehouse?” she teased. She leaned against the window from of the other window and briefly looked out before turning back to an amused Tim.

Tim’s lips quirked into a silly smile and watched Raven in amusement. It was nice seeing her relaxed and with her guard down. “Aren’t you a tease today?”

Raven snorted and crossed her arms. Her purple eyes shone playfully catching Tim’s shift of emotions. Two could play that game. Tilting her head, she raised an eyebrow in mock challenge. “I am?”

Tim hummed his confirmation and moved away from the window, slowly crossing the small space. A familiar glint in his eyes. “Very.”

Raven raised a delicate eyebrow as she watched Tim draw closer to her. The emotions in the room shifted and it suddenly did not seem too cold. A pleasant warmth spread low in her abdomen and her senses tingled in anticipation. “Are you complaining?”

Tim chuckled, stopping in front of Raven and placing both of his hands on her hips. Smiling mischievously, he leaned forward and pressed a gently kiss on her cheek. “Hardly,” he mumbled into her skin. Shifting his hands, he drew her into an embrace, pressing her small form towards him.

“Good,” Raven mumbled into his shoulder, melting into the warm embrace and closing her eyes. Inhaling Tim’s familiar smell and relishing the solid press of his body and warmth against hers, Raven sighed in content. Despite her initial hesitations to go out for a long walk in the cold weather, she was glad to spend some alone time with her boyfriend and get away from all the new emotions at the house. Enjoying the quiet, Raven sighed softy and drew her arms tighter around Tim.

Feeling her shift in his arms, Tim tilted his head and eyed her curiously. “Everything alright?” he asked, voice low and carrying softly through the cold afternoon. He smiled when he felt her nod against his shoulder. Running his hand up her back, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Though,” Raven voice was mumbled against his shoulder. “I’m still disappointed that this is not a BatTreehouse.”

Tim laughed and his arms drew her tighter to him. “Hey,” he squeezed her waist and grinned at the soft chuckle from her. “I’ll have you know there are definitely weapons in this treehouse,”

Raven snorted and propped her chin on his shoulder. She smiled in amusement. “Of course,”

Rocking them gently, Tim squeezed her hips. He pressed his lips closer to her ear, earning a soft shiver from her form. “Such a tease,”

Leaning up and pressing into him, Raven relished Tim’s warm emotions. Curling her fingers into his upper arms, Raven leaned up and kissed the underside of his jaw. Her skin hummed in silent anticipation. Raven sighed. “I hear no complaints,”

Tim ran his right hand down her back and gently cupped her ass through her jeans. Releasing a soft chuckle, Tim easily caught her lips in a breathy kiss. “No complaints here,” he mumbled against her lips. He sighed softly as she readily responded to the kiss with her arms curling around his neck, drawing both of them closer.

Raven felt his warm emotions press into her and she readily responded in kind, raising to her toes and pressing into Tim’s lips. A soft moan escaped her lips as Tim pressed into her, pushing her against the old wooden wall. His strong fingers pressed through the thick layers of clothes into her hips, and she sighed softly at the pressure.

She felt him shift, hips pressing into hers greedily, and she felt her skin tingle in anticipation and her mind fog. Releasing breathy moan into Tim’s hot kisses, Raven pulled Tim closer. Heat started to pool low in her abdomen and Raven groaned as Tim tilted her head and kissed her deeply, parting her lips and slipping his tongue against hers.

Tim shifted them, greedily drinking in her softy sighs and pressing his right leg in between hers. Grazing his teeth against her jaw, Tim groaned as she shifted her hips and brushed against his own growing desires. “Raven,” he whispered into her neck, her soft scarf tickling his nose. He was faintly aware he was making out with his girlfriend in an old treehouse. How cliché. Tim felt Raven’s fingers curl into his winter jacket, and she shifted against him, hips urgently pressing into his. Fuck.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Raven whispered, lost in the fog of hot emotions. Eagerly lapping up Tim’s warm emotions, Raven leaned up and captured his lips in a heady kiss. She moaned softly as his tongue slipped against hers, teeth catching against lips. His right leg pressed into her, adding a delicious pressure in between her legs. She unconsciously bucked her hips, chasing after the hard pressure. Heat rushed through her and she sighed breathily.

She was vaguely aware of Tim pulling off his gloves. She felt one of his cold hands slip behind her head, threading into her hair and knocking off her black bonnet. Tim tugged her hair gently and titled her head up, kissing her deeply. Pressing into him and bucking into his leg for release, Raven heard Tim’s low groan.

She gasped loudly and pulled away from his demanding kisses as cold nimble fingers had slipped under her jacket and thick sweater and danced over the hem of her jeans. Cold fingers pressed into her heated skin and she whimpered softly. Unrelenting, Tim pressed forward and pushed her harder into the wall behind her. Fingers danced over the hem of her jeans as Tim instead started to kiss her neck, teeth hungrily scraping at the exposed flesh.

Raven felt like she was going to explode as heat pooled in her abdomen and teeth scraped against her throat. Throwing her head back and ignoring the sting of hitting her head against the wall, Raven released a soft moan. Tim’s fingers fiddled with the button of her jeans and his knuckles pressed into her abdomen. Her hips bucked in response. She faintly wondered how she did not burst into flames yet.

“Is this okay?” Tim whispered, voice raspy and needy. Despite the fog that clouded his mind, he was still vaguely aware that they were outdoors and just seconds away of potentially fucking their brains out in public. He felt Raven’s hips buck and his thumb pressed into her jeans button, ready to open a glorious treasure.

Raven inhaled deeply, lust practically purring. Cracking open her eyes, she caught Tim’s hooded stare. Lips curling and shifting her hips into his hand, she tried to pull him closer. “No one is here,” she whispered.

That was all the invitation he needed. In quick, practiced movements, Tim pushed the jeans button through its hole. Surging forward, Tim groaned and caught her lips in a heady kiss. Tongue hungrily slipping against hers just as his fingers slipped past the confines of her jeans and into her tantalizing wet underwear. He happily drank her keen as his fingers slipped into her wet heat. Groaning into the kiss, Tim felt her contract around his fingers.

“Ah!” Raven breathed loudly, head tipping back and hitting the wall behind her. Closing her eyes in pure ecstasy, Raven’s hips bucked into Tim’s hand as his fingers pumped into her in a steady delicious rhythm. Raven was sure her body was on fire as she felt her knees buckle. Her own fingers curled desperately into Tim’s shoulders, trying to keep herself upright. She moaned breathily as Tim curled his finger and hit that spot and she released a breathy moan.

“Raven,” Tim watched the emotions dance across Raven’s face. Pressing a kiss into her neck, he groaned as he felt her chase after his fingers. He felt her flutter around him. Tim sighed into her neck, his own need for release becoming painfully aware. His dick twitched in his jeans.

Tim’s fingers were relentless as they thrust into her and Raven mewled softly, heat close to making her body explode. Gasping as his fingers pressed into her, Raven grabbed Tim’s chin and caught his lips in a rough, heady kiss. She felt Tim’s burning emotions, begging for release pressing into her. She knew they both would not last very long – and while Tim’s fingers fucking her senseless were wonderful – her body was ready to explode.

As Tim roughly pushed into her, his body practically pressing her into the wall, Raven’s hand traveled down his chest. Tim immediately pulled away, and stared at Raven with wide eyes as he felt her fingers shakily work on his belt buckle. The distinct clink of metal releasing from the buckle could be heard over their heavy breathing. “Raven,”

Breathing heavily, Raven unbuttoned Tim’s jeans and swiftly unzipped his pants. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, her dark purple eyes caught his dark blue eyes heavy with lust. Her fingers slipped over his exposed boxers and danced over his hot bulge. “You’re going to fuck me into this wall,” It was more of a command than anything.

“Fuck,” Tim growled. He pulled his fingers out of her, enjoying the slick wet sound as he removed his fingers from her. Ignoring her groan, he grabbed her hips and roughly turned her around, making her face the wall. Mind clouded heavy with desire and his ears ringing loudly with his heavy heartbeat, Tim watched in satisfaction as Raven groaned at the rough action and arched her back. Pleasure spread through his chest in satisfaction – she did always like it rough. Surging forward, Tim groaned and pressed into her back, hips thrusting into the curve of her ass. Freeing her scarf around her neck, he hungrily pressed a kiss into the nape of her neck. He smirked at her breathy groan.

“Please,” Raven whimpered, hands braced on either side of her head and right cheek painfully pressed into the cold wood wall. She thrust her ass into Tim’s hip, seeking for release.

With a strangled grunt, Tim made quick work of pushing Raven’s jeans down her ass and legs. He listened as she inhaled softly as cold air brushed against her legs. His cold fingers ran up the side of her legs before reaching her exposed ass and giving the right cheek a hearty squeeze. After pushing her legs apart a little, Tim pushed down his jeans and pulled his throbbing member out of his boxers. He hissed as the cool air hit his warm dick and he gave it a few pumps. Stepping forward, he pressed himself into her back and allowed his dick to slip in between her legs and brush up against her wet heat.

“Tim,” Raven breathed and whimpered at the familiar feel of Tim’s cock brushing against her. She rolled her hips, hungrily brushing up against Tim’s cock. Bending over a bit more and pressing into the wall, Raven spread her legs further in anticipation. “Please,”

Groaning lowly, Tim grabbed Raven’s hips and with a one fluid thrust slipped into her. Raven released a strangled moan and pressed her cheek into the wall. The cool wall offered some relief to her hot cheek. She moaned softly as Tim filled her to the hilt, the pleasant stretch and fullness made her skin burn and her knees grow weak. She gasped as he began to move, thrusting into her and stoking a hungry fire.

His movements were fast and frantic, both desperately trying to chase after a much needed release. Tim’s right hand slid over her abdomen and towards her clit, and his fingers danced over her as he continued to press into her. Grunting into her neck, Tim rubber her clit while his other hand dug into her hip, guiding her with every heavy thrust.

Heavy breathing and the sharp sounds of flesh hitting flesh filled the treehouse. Tim groaned as he felt her flutter around him, he heard her breathing hitch as they inched towards the end. Despite how cold it was, he felt that his whole body was on fire, practically singing as he held Raven close. He groaned as Raven frantically met every thrust, catching him and pushing her soft body into him.

Raven tittered dangerously close to the edge, her body tingling and her emotions purring in satisfaction. She hungrily chased Tim’s emotions, catching his fiery need and gasping at each needy thrust. She dug her fingers into the wood and her back arched as she released a strangled groan. As fingers continued to dance across her clit and Tim’s hard thrusts filled her, she felt herself dangle close to the edge.

With a low growl, their movements become more frantic and the wet noise of sex filled their ears. Tim gasped and angled her hips just the right away, hitting her from behind that made her throw her head back in a satisfying groan. With a few more heavy strokes, Raven mewled and arched her back as heat just exploded inside of her and she toppled over the edge. Gasping and groaning, Raven tumbled forward as Tim chased after her orgasm and roughly pressing her into the wall, frantically riding out his own orgasm.

Their movements slowed down and their heavy breathing filled the cold air. Tim’s arms wrapped around Raven’s waist as her legs wobbled and he gently pressed her against his chest, supporting her. “I love you,” he whispered and pressed a kiss into her cheek.

Raven hummed softly. “I love you too,” she mumbled, heart still racing wildly in her chest. After a few more moments of stillness and trying to catch their breath, they slowly moved apart. Raven shuddered as Tim pulled out of her. Turning around, she leaned against the wall and inhaled unsteadily as she came tumbling back from her high.

Ignoring the freezing cold as it bit into his exposed thighs, Tim stepped forward and kissed Raven gently. A soft gust of wind slipped through the open windows making them both shiver. They worked quickly to pull up their pants, Raven fumbling with shaky legs. After Tim pulled his pants back up and closed his belt, he threw an affectionate look at Raven and gently helped her straighten her clothes and brushed some errand strands of hair from her face.

“Some walk,” Tim breathed with a soft laugh as they shared a look. Knowing that she needed to steady all her (and his) emotions, Tim gathered her in his arms and listened to her sigh into his shoulder. Adjusting their position, he leaned against the wall and felt her practically melt into him. “Excellent idea for a walk, Rae,”

Raven made a softy sound in the back of her throat and gently pinched his waist. Pulling away from his shoulder, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Having sex in your family treehouse really was not part of the plan,” she shot back. She made a face in sudden realization. “We had sex in your treehouse.” She said as she looked up at the old wooden ceiling. “There are no cameras here, right?!”

“Relax,” Tim breathed and brushed a hand down her back soothingly. He pulled her closer, enjoying her closeness. After assuring her, that no, there were no cameras hidden in the treehouse (maybe explosives? Who knows where Jason keep his shit), the two stayed up there for a little while longer, catching their breaths, and enjoying each other’s presence.

As she buried deeper into Tim’s embrace, she had to agree with him. This was definitely one of their best walks.

[pl-panda]

The vines that bind us - Chapter 6

Chapter 1 || Previous || NEXT

Elevator took her all the way to the highest floor. When she exited, the floor was back to perfect condition and several more plants were awaiting her. She promised them silently to check on them soon and went to the main office. She knocked several times on the doors, but nobody answered. Hesitantly, she pushed the doors open, but no one was in the office. After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

“Didn’t you cause enough drama…” Lila never got a chance to end that sentence, because Mari delivered a straight one strong enough to send her flying several feet back before she came crashing down. Blood pouring from her nose.

The girl was about to launch herself at the liar and pound her into the ground when two strong arms grabbed her. She noticed the characteristic spikes on the sides of black gloves and stated to trash around. “Let me go you overgrown furry!” She screamed. “I will mix her face with the concrete until it’s nice and even!”

She tried to wiggle herself out of his grip. Most of the class surrounded Lila and were trying to help her. It only served to irate Mari more. She kicked her leg back, hitting Batman’s shin. It was finally enough to let her go. The girl fell down... right into the embrace of Chloe and Adrien who managed to get to her on time. The two blondes hugged her tightly. 

“There. It’s alright Goldie. You got her good. Rest.” The girl cooed and pressed her best friend to her chest, muffling the sobbing. Adrien was just silently there and hugged them both. When Batman tried to approach again, the boy sent him an angry glare. The warning was clear and the vigilante didn’t really need anything from the girl right now. 

After a bit, Mari fell asleep in their embrace. The stress finally caught up to her and she couldn’t hold exhaustion at bay any longer. Chloe easily picked her up and started to walk toward a taxi that was conveniently parked nearby, waiting for them. 

“What!?” Angry Alya looked from Lila who was now being cared for by a pair of paramedics. She turned to Commissioner Gordon who was discussing something with Batman. “You!” 

The policeman looked at her curiously. Alya continued her shouting. “You’re letting her go just like that? She just assaulted Lila! She might’ve ruined her modeling career! Arrest her!”

“Miss.” Gordon shook his head. “These are some of the braves men and women in Gotham, but I doubt any of them would dare to try and arrest her right now. They don’t get paid enough.”

“What?!” Several kids started to protest, but Gordon just ignored them and directed Harvey to start taking statements. He wasn’t paid enough to deal with these brats. 

--------

Bruce sighed as he exited the Batmobile. Almost immediately, he was swarmed by the rest of his family. Jason and Dick practically carried him, still in the suit, to the movie room. 

“Now, Ladies and Gents, we have some of the greatest shows for you. We call it… The Demon Trashing!”

What followed was a clip taken from monitoring in the anteroom of the CEO office in Wayne Tower. He watched as Damian, dressed in civilian clothing, and carrying a simple ninjato on his back entered the room. He walked around for a moment before knocking on the main office doors, but whatever answer he got seemed to have irritated him given the scowl that formed on his face. He walked over to the PA’s desk that stood there, but no one was here. After a short moment, one could see the elevator doors open again and a small girl in a smart outfit walked in. Damian dashed to the shadows before she had a chance to notice him. 

Bruce resisted the urge to facepalm. He could already see where this was going. 

When the girl started to walk to the desk, his son suddenly reappeared with the sword drawn. He pressed the blade to her neck. From the angle, it was impossible to see either of them expressions. The man did not expect his son to kill a civilian for trespassing, but the amount of glee on Jason’s and Dick’s faces was suggesting that his headache hadn’t really started.

The girl suddenly grabbed the blade and pushed it away. Damian, probably acting on instinct, tried to cut her, but she just walked out of the way and disarmed his son before knocking him out. There was a short skip to when Jason and Dick entered the room. The small girl was clearly very much irritated with them from the start and when she reached her limits, she used a pencil as a projectile to open the elevator doors. 

A small smirk made its way to Bruce’s face when he saw her storm past his three sons, carrying the ninjato through a tissue. The video ended with Damian waking up.

“And that’s how Drake’s new PA trashed a certain Demon Spawn. I swear, she could probably give Luthor’s bodyguard a run for her money when it comes to being a badass” Jason commented on the silent video in his typical fashion. 

“Tt. She stole my sword.” Damian huffed.

“You mean the sword she later used to stab Riddler’s man before disarming him?”

“I still consider the best part of today when she called B. an overgrown furry,” Dick said trying to hold back on laugher.

“Wait. I have a new personal assistant?” Tim asked half-awake. 

“Yeah. She was supposed to be an intern, but apparently, Sarah hired her on the spot and quit.”

“Oh… Cool.” Tim said and took a swing from his gargantuan cup. 

“Did you manage to pull the video of her taking down Riddler?” Bruce asked.

“The cameras malfunctioned before she even entered.”

“It was me,” Tim confessed. “I was still in my office when the alarm sounded. I keep a separate copy of my suit in a hidden compartment. To save time I dressed there, but I had to disable the CCTV…”

“Yeah yeah. Whatever.” Jason shut him up. “I also got the part when Damian’s eyes roll back as my new screensaver.”

“Tt. You’re lucky I don’t have my sword.”

“Don’t think you’re getting it back any time soon,” Bruce said in a stern tone and sighed. “What exactly do we know about her?”

“She is from Gotham, but she lives in Paris for some years. She said she was practicing martial arts since she was five.” Dick started

“She is also one bada…”

Jason was interrupted by Alfred, who entered the room with a plate full of cookies and tea. “A young woman just called. She asked me to forward a message to young master Damian.”

“Tt. What is it?”

“I quote. ‘Good luck getting your sword back now. Police took it as evidence. Suck it, Wayne.’ I believe the woman was young miss Chloe Bourgeoise.”

Dick, Jason, and Tim were literally rolling on the floor laughing. Bruce just facepalmed.

“No, you can’t break into the evidence room. You might jeopardize the whole investigation if you taint the evidence.” Bruce said in an exasperated tone. 

----------

It was late after midnight (or even early morning, depends on your definition) when the vigilantes returned from the patrol, only to meet Tim and Barbara working on something on Batcomputer in tandem. Whatever it was, they were completely devoted to it since neither realized they had company until Bruce made a coughing sound.

“Not now.” 

“What exactly are you doing?” The father inside Bruce resisted the urge to force-feed Tim some sleeping meds. 

“We’re doing the background check,” Barbara said while typing frantically.

“On my new personal assistant.” The boy supplied.

“oh?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Like… from what we found she is either the worst bitch on the block or strongest badass around.”

“Langauge master Tim.” Alfred scolded him. 

“Sorry. But like seriously! There are so many contradictions.”

“Check this out.” She pulled out a scan of a letter. It was largely creased, but still perfectly readable. “Her adopted parents one day disappeared, leaving her everything they owed sans some of their clothes. It was like they packed and left.”

“You suspect a foul play?”

“I’m not sure. The investigation was a joke and so was the follow-up proceeding. The interesting part is the custody battle that followed.” 

“Jagged freaking Stone and Parisian Mayor.” Tim interrupted Babs. “It ended with a compromise that Jagged was lawfully named her uncle and Mayor became her guardian. She was the one who suggested it.”

“How can one be lawfully named someone’s uncle?”

“Apparently one can in France. Or they just made some concessions to a celebrity. Seen weirder things.” He shrugged. “She was also his designer for years now. You remember that mysterious MDC?”

“The one you used to fawn over?” Bruce asked.

“She is brilliant so sue me.” The boy huffed. “Also, it stands for Marigold Désign et Création. She runs an internet boutique where she takes commissions from both commoners and celebrities.”

“What does it have to do with anything?” 

“I’m getting to that. Gee.” 

“Maybe I will get there?” Babs tried to take over. “She’s been working part-time as a babysitter to get funds to buy materials for new clothes and received nothing but praise. She also became a class representative. A successful one at that. She also holds the national championship in U-17 Mechastrike.”

“How is that important exactly?” 

“You wanted to know everything about her B., so we are giving you everything.” Tim sassed

“Just… get to the important parts.” He shook his head. What did he do to deserve this?

“Fine. Her school records are a mess. Skipping that they wouldn’t hold to any official inspection, they straight-up contradict each other.” Tim waved his hand in some undefined gesture. “On one hand, she receives nothing but praise from the teachers, but at the same time, there are multiple bullying reports and even several assaults in here. Most of them were met with harsh punishments.” Tim opened a separate file. “Too harsh according to the school charter.”

“It didn’t help that the letter from her parents also mentioned these kinds of things.” Babs chimed in, trying to regain control of the tale. Bruce just gave an exasperated sigh. He just gave up and allowed them to solve it, mentally already cataloging the information. 

“Except! There were statements from several people that contradicted this. Especially Chloe Bourgeois. She said, ‘Puh-lease! Mari is the kindest doormat in the world. I was mean to her for years and she still welcomed me back with open arms.’ Given her track record, I’m inclined to believe it.” 

“There was also this Drama, capital ‘D’, with MDC stealing designs. Several tabloids caught the wind of it and it even led to the police investigation. Only after Jagged Stone intervened, the thing quickly shut up.”

“Now onto the juicy parts!” Babs smiled. 

“And that was what? An introduction?”

“Yup. She has a certified black belt in two different martial arts, is a master gymnast, has an IQ of over 130 and owns two separate businesses in Paris.” She quickly read. “As we mentioned, she is the honorary lawful niece of Jagged Stone, but also designed for Clara Nightingale, Nadia Chamack, worked with Gabriel Agreste, was offered an internship from Audrey Bourgeois before she became her ward. She was seen hanging out with Kagami Tsurugi, world-renowned fencer, and Luka Couffaine, the rising star under Jagged Stone’s tutelage.”

“That was fast.” Tim summarised. 

“Yeah. Also, she was adopted some nine years ago. She originally comes from Gotham.”

“Do we know her biological parents?” Bruce asked, getting serious.

“That’s where it gets juicy. When I tried to pull out her adoption files, the computer shut down to avoid detection. There is some serious encryption on it. Probably due to who her father is. We got some of it. She described her mother as ‘wearing an outfit that showed more skin than her beachwear’, so we suspect she was a prostitute.”

“Hm… It’s not unheard of. You say she was with her mother until she was eight?”

“Between seven and nine the file said.”

“Hm… Do you think she is a threat?”

“No. But I have a different question. Why didn’t the league investigate Paris’ supervillain?”

“We were made aware of him only recently, after what our satellites mistook for Poison Ivy attack,” Batman said in an irritated tone. The fact that there was a supervillain running around for close to four years completely undetected grated on his nerves. “Diana Prince has been investigating for some time now. She has it under control.”

“The only problem I see is that she is only sixteen,” Barbara pointed.

“I mean I’m barely seventeen and I ran this company for two years now. And don’t act high and mighty. You started playing Batgirl at fifteen.”

“Played?!” She screamed. 

“You wore a hoodie and carnival mask at first.”

This quickly developed into an insults contest until Bruce finally had enough. He just shook his head and left. Alfred silently followed him, carrying a plate of sandwiches. 

-----

The next morning, Mari woke up in her bed, with Chloe and her curled together in a mess of limbs and clothes. Of course, she panicked and jumped up, waking the blonde.

“Honestly, Goldie, five more minutes. I need my beauty sleep!” She murmured.

“Um… Why are we in one bed?”

“Because you fell asleep hugging me yesterday and refused to let go at any point. I swear I wanted to get a crowbar. Ridiculous!”

“Sorry…” Mari gave her a sheepish smile.

“None of that! You ruined Lila’s face in one punch. Adrien texted me that in the end she lost seven teeth and will require plastic surgery for her nose not to look like a mashed potato.”

“No…!” Her eyes widened. 

“Yup.” Chloe grinned, popping the ‘p’. 

“That’s awful! I can already imagine how much the class will hate me now! And the employees that saw this! There were cameras there!”

“Some people actually applauded you. It could be also because you called Batman an overgrown Furry though…” Chloe’s voice wandered off. Mari collapsed onto the bed, head buried in the pillows.

“Kill me…”

“Can I kill you with hugs?”

“Fine…”

When the panicking bluenette finally calmed down, Chloe got her to sit down and showed her the headlines.

Brave WE employee saves dozens of lives!

A hero without a suit!

Civilian stopped Riddler!

Personal Assistant takes down a dangerous criminal!

They were all overly positive and showed much support. Only one tried to vilify her based on Lila’s comment and her being punched, but it quoted Ladyblog as a reliable source, so it was dismissed. The majority of the comments were also positive. The ‘overgrown Furry’ was already trending too. 

Only one of the articles contained the list of names of people killed in the attack.

Ted Black - a security guard, put himself between the bullet and another employee Sigfried Osborne - a security guard, died when he tried to stop them from entering Molly Bishop - a PR specialist, called the police when she thought the guards were busy Heidi Dickson - a security guard, killed in crossfire Craig Lloyd - an HR employee, wrestled the gun from one of the henchmen before he was shot in the back. Ethel Arson - A lawyer, killed in crossfire Christian Thorn - a security guard, shot two of the riddler’s henchmen in defense of a group of hostages.

Their room had several live plants on the rail. Mari walked to them and allowed her powers to flow. Slowly, the flowers bloomed. She picked seven beautiful flowers and put them on the table.

“Mari… I’m sure they will understand if you don’t come to work today…” Chloe placed a hand on her best friend’s shoulder.

“No… No. I won’t be scared into hiding by Riddler of all people.” She said with determination and some coldness in her voice. She stood up and walked to her suitcase. From there, she gathered a different outfit. Now she would wear a red shirt, a black blazer with the Ladybug logo on her right breast, a black pencil skirt, and black leather ballet shoes (she still hated heels). But the greatest change was her hair and eyes. She let go of her twin pigtails and allowed her wavy hair to run free. It was no longer black, instead turning dark blue with purple highlights. Her eyes also changed. Her bluebell eyes also changed. The iridescent green she used to suppress was now mixed with the normal eye color, giving an entrancing effect that was hard to stop looking at.

“It’s time to rock this place.” She smiled at her best friend.

------- (Play ‘Confident’ by Demi Lovato) --------

Marigold and Chloe entered the Wayne Enterprises in full stride. Flashing her pass, she got them through control without the queue or checking, much to the shock of the class (who still had no idea Mari was now technically their boss). Adrien showed the girls thumbs up. Lila was seething, but neither Chloe nor Marigold paid her any mind and guards didn’t let her follow them and straight-up kicked her to the back of the queue. 

Mari gave a nod to the receptionist, but they didn’t slow down. Elevator was about to close, but one of the employees held it for her. Once they entered, she quickly checked her tablet and the to-do list she had for that day. First stop: PR. Chloe was going to HR to receive a new mentor after… the previous day.

When she entered the Public Relations department, Mari didn’t stop to chat with the employee that looked at her in awe. Her goal was the department’s head office and that’s where she would go. Gently knocking on the doors before entering, she pushed the doors. While she was smiling kindly, her whole posture screamed professional. 

“Hello. Mr. Drake will need the Friday press conference plan adjusted in response to what happened yesterday. There needs to be a mention of the event, as we won’t want to sound too detached. The press would tear us apart. Some gesture to show the public that we care…”

“Maybe a memory board in the lobby? And perhaps schedule Mr. Drake to visit each of the families somewhere next week?”

“I think it will be okay…” For a short moment, Mari allowed her confidence to drop, but she quickly gathered herself and made a note in her calendar. 

“If that’s all…”

“I will also need a press statement no later than by lunch.” She said quickly. “Make it a priority and forward it to me to read before you post it.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The man smiled. Mari was about to leave when he spoke again. “And thank you for yesterday. Many people owe you their lives.”

She stopped in her tracks, unable to say a word. Finally, she regained her composure. “Thank you. I… I’m coping.” 

As she left the office toward the elevator, Lila and Alya, who were interning in that department, tried to speak with her, but she didn’t even spare them a glance. Alya tried to grab her, but she was stopped by one of the older employees. As the elevator doors closed, Mari could see the girls receive a serious scolding. A grin made its way onto her face. Lila and Alya would have a really hard life for the next two months. Especially if she had anything to say about it. 

Her next stop was the security office. She entered it with a neutral expression, but it lasted only maybe five steps from the elevator. She didn’t tear up. She was a Gothamite inside. Right as one walked out of the elevator, there was a small bar, behind which a board was filled with pictures. Some looked really old, black and white or even sepia, while some others were high-quality and new. Roughly half of them were the clean pictures one would attach to a resume. The other half were profile pictures from social media. Or a photo that was taken in the forest. One was even a detailed drawing of a person. There were maybe fifty of them in total.

“It’s a reminder. Guards who lost their lives since the founding of WE” An older man said. “Silas Wayne started the tradition after he served in the Great War. You’re here for something miss?”

“Oh… Yes. The security on Friday press conference. We must increase it by about fifty percent. And make sure that only those with invites can enter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her.

“Um…” Mari suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. 

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault.” He said in a comforting voice.

“Thank you, sir.” She allowed a weak smile to enter her face before she left. Only two more stops. 

The elevator next took her to the Legal Department. She had many things that needed to be done here. Chloe met her as soon as she exited the elevator. Mari managed to regain her professional posture and once more emanated the aura of confidence. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up, but she was determined to show that she was okay. 

“I already forwarded your requests. At first, Madame McKinsley was reluctant, but apparently, our entrance is already the top corporate gossip. Good job Mari-bear.”

“Good. Thanks, Chlo. Now get back to work before someone sees me get friendly with an intern. I have a plan.” Before they separated, Marigold let a smile ghost her face. “One more thing. You’re free to unleash the foxes of war.”

Chloe lit up at that. Her whole demeanor changed to almost beaming light. She immediately started planning. Mari left her to the devious scheming and instead went to McKinsley office. The head of the Legal Department was a middle-aged woman with short, slightly graying brown hair and no-nonsense composure.

“Miss Bourgeoise informed me of your visit. I already had several documents prepared, but I will need clarification on several things.” She offered the young PA a chair, but Mari refused with a shake of her head. She opened her tablet and started to go through the list.

“First of all, the video that caused the attack was leaked by an intern. What actions exactly can be undertaken in response?”

“There are several options. We could terminate their contract entirely, but as it’s their first offense, it could’ve been seen as too harsh. It would also require to terminate all internships.” The woman was clearly unamused by the situation. Mari just raised her eyebrow and gave her a quizzing look.

“I’m not sure who in their right mind wrote their contracts, but when I track them down they are gonna get their ass demoted to toilet cleaner. It’s one big mess.”

“Don’t I know it…” Mari deadpanned. “So, other options?”

“We can move them between departments, so having them demoted to Toilet cleaners could also work, but it’s not exactly a legal punishment. The fact that it was Riddler really threw a wrench in any legal proceeding as he is clinically insane and the video was not directly calling him out and only speaking about him. I could give you the legal mumbo-jumbo, but the gist is that they are somewhat protected.”

“What about revoking their privileges?”

“Take that to HR.” 

“Will do. Now, about the next matter.”

“It was much easier. She can’t do anything to you, not even forward the bill. You were in shock and there are several recordings showing her taunting you. If she pushes it, she will lose. You’re a public hero right now. Good job by the way.”

“I was only doing what had to be done.” Mari brushed it, doing her best to keep a professional face. 

“Sure…” It was clear that McKinsley did not believe her.

“Now about the last thing?”

“Ah. The slander. I already directed it to our French and Italian departments, but it’s slow-going. That witch made it an international case. It will definitely bite her, but we have to be patient.”

“Brilliant. Thank you for your time.” Mari left the room with a grin on her face. Now onto the HR.

As she strode through the floor, people turned their heads to look at her. In the killing outfit, she looked older than she was and the aura of confidence and professionalism made her seem like a powerful woman. They had no idea just how powerful she was, but the way she carried herself was enough to make them shake in their shoes. 

----

When the doors of the elevator opened, Juleka and Rose were waiting for her. Both looked furious. Before either got a chance to say anything though, Marigold silenced them with a murderous glare that took away their voice. She strode past them looking fabulous. Any other employee removed themselves from her path to avoid her ire. The rumors were already circulating and the fact that she took down Riddler before Batman even arrived did wonder to her image. 

“Hello. I had an appointment.” She said when she entered the head of the department office. 

“Yes. Miss Dupain-Cheng. I was told you forwarded a list of topics, but an intern lost it.”

“Was this intern from my class?” She asked in a cold voice.

“Um… Yes actually.” The woman said after checking a small post-it.

“Then it was probably sabotage.” Mari spat the words. “I asked to have a list of possible punishments in regards to the newest intern group prepared. Two of them were responsible for the leak. Sadly, as one of them is the class representative, she is quite popular.”

“Ah. Well…”

“First of all, both Alya Cesaire and Lila Rossi are to have all possible privileges revoked for breaking the rules. They leaked or were involved in the leak of video. Neither of them is to be handed anything more important than refilling a stapler or bringing someone coffee, to ensure they are no further threat to this company. They will also receive an official warning and an entry to their acts. They are also restricted to the lower floors. If possible, I want their access to electronic devices restricted. Maybe assign them a pager each so it doesn’t negatively impact their work.”

“Hm… I will see what can be done, Ma’am.” The woman replied, already going through her notes.

“Good. Onto the next business, while it pains me to do it so fast, we need to hire more security as soon as possible. But make sure to triple check their backgrounds.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And the last thing. Why was Damian Wayne allowed to bring a ninjato into the building?”

“There is actually no restriction on bringing swords ma’am. We’re trying to fix it, but we’ve been blocked at every turn even when Mr. Wayne was the CEO.”

“And whose permission is needed?” Mari allowed a small grin.

“Yours would do. Sarah was always too stuck up to even leave her desk unless forced so she didn’t care that much.”

“Consider my permission granted. Forward the paperwork to me.”

“And if Mr. Drake disagrees?”

“He can try.” She said coldly, remembering how close she came to being cut in half.

“Oh…”

“Last thing. When is the top floor scheduled for repairs?”

“It should be done already. It was made to withstand an assault from a much larger force, so we only had to replace the furniture. Following the instructions that were left, we repotted the plants into bigger and more decorative pots. As per your request, we added some more plants.”

“Thank you. Plants always calm me down.”

“I prefer cat pictures.” She pointed at the wall where a cheesy calendar with a cat giving her thumbs-up was hanged. It took all of Marigold’s willpower not to burst into laugher at the image of Chat Noir posing for such a calendar.

“Good. Thank you.” With that, she left. This time, Rose and Juleka did not try anything. They were too terrified of her. 

Elevator took her all the way to the highest floor. When she exited, the floor was back to perfect condition and several more plants were awaiting her. She promised them silently to check on them soon and went to the main office. She knocked several times on the doors, but nobody answered. Hesitantly, she pushed the doors open, but no one was in the office. After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

----

NEXT

[awhitehead17]

100 ways to say I love you - TimKon edition:

Number 53: “Sit down, I’ll get it.” 

Enjoy! :D 

While Tim loves being a vigilante, there are parts of it he absolutely detests. One of those things is getting injured. He knows it’s part of the gig and at the end of the day he’s only human, his body can only with stand so much and throwing himself around all over the place certainly doesn’t help.

By now he’s lost count of how many injuries he’s had over the years. He wouldn’t be able to recall all the bones he’s broken, how many fractures he’s received, or even how many times he’s woken up in the med-bay for one reason or another.

Despite all that, no matter how many times he goes through it, he can’t stand the recovery period afterwards.

When the injury is still fresh, where it can be easily aggravated, it’s easier to accept that he’s limited to what he can do. However when the wound has healed and he’s moved onto doing light activity, that’s when it gets frustrating. It’s the setbacks that frustrate him each and every time.

When he’s recovering from an injury, he’s fighting back for what he had lost. Months of training gone in a matter of a couple weeks. The physical side of the job doesn’t come naturally to him, like it does for his brothers, and he works his ass off to make up for that. By the time he gets back to where he had been before he ends up getting injured again!

“Who’s pissed you off?”

The sudden question startles Tim out of his thoughts. He blinks and turns his head to the side to find Kon sat on the couch next to him with a concerned look on his face.

“What?” Tim asks dumbfounded.

“You’re scowling really hard. If you had heat vision that coffee table would be ash by now. I’m wondering who’s pissed you off enough to make it look like you want to kill them?”

Tim waves his hand, dismissing Kon’s question. “No one.” He says turning his attention away, he ends up staring at the aforementioned coffee table again.

“Uh huh,” Kon sounds out in disbelief. Now Tim scowls purposely, knowing Kon is analysing him. “You sure it’s got nothing to do with that big, white and heavy cast that’s currently encasing your left ankle?”

He hates how well his boyfriend knows him. Tim’s loathing thoughts on injury recovery are because of his current predicament. During an Arkham breakout, Tim had broken his ankle while chasing Two Face around Gotham. Not his finest moment he has to admit but it happened and now Tim is laid up for the next few weeks. It seems like he can’t think of anything else except for his road of recovery, what hassle it’s going to be and the impact it’s going to have on his body.

Tim huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, pouting as he sinks further into the corner of the couch he’s tucked into. “I hate being injured.”

Kon snorts and reaches out to pat his leg comfortingly. “I know you do. Unfortunately it’s happened so you have to deal with it.”

“I hate being idle.” Tim continues to complain.

“At least your brain still works.”

With his non-injured leg Tim kicks his boyfriend in the side. “You could at least be somewhat sympathetic y’know?”

Kon sends him an incredulous look. “You’ve done nothing but mope for the last three days since Alfred released you from the infirmary. I’ve gone past the stage of being soft. Anyway, what do you fancy for dinner?”

Tim stares at his boyfriend feeling both betrayed and appreciative. He wants to mope and be miserable, why won’t Kon let him do so? Can’t his boyfriend see he’s indisposed, what else has he got currently going for him? On the other hand Tim is kind of pleased Kon isn’t putting up with that bullshit, Tim needs to keep his mind occupied on things that aren’t his injury and Kon knows this.

Moving his thoughts from his injury to food, he debates in his mind for what he’s fancying.

“What about Thai?” Tim suggests in the end. “We have a menu for the place down the street somewhere right”?

Kon hums and gets up off the couch. “Yeah, I think so, I’ll go and have a look.”

His boyfriend returns moments later with a takeaway menu in hand. He hands it over to Tim and together they decide on what to get, once they’ve decided Tim rings up and orders the food to be delivered.

“It’ll be about half an hour.” Tim informs Kon after hanging up on the phone.

Kon smiles and nods. “Perfect, that gives me enough time to grab a shower then.” Being mindful of his ankle which is elevated up on the couch next to him, Kon leans over and presses a kiss to his temple before getting up and going to the bathroom.

Unable to do much else Tim simply stays there on the couch. He’s got crutches beside him if he does need to move but he despises those things with a passion and uses them as little as often. He usually ends up hopping around the place, using different pieces of furniture to get by, or even gets Kon to pick him up and take him from room to room. While Kon makes a comment every time Tim knows his boyfriend secretly loves it despite what he says.

A loud knocking sound echoes throughout the apartment, it cuts through his thoughts and gets his attention. Has half an hour gone by already? Was Kon still in the bathroom? When a second knock sounds out Tim braces himself and unsteadily climbs to his feet.

He’s just about made his way around the couch when Kon’s voice suddenly calls out, “sit down, I’ll get it,” before he’s hurrying past Tim to get to the hallway where the front door is located.

Tim rolls his eyes but settles back down on the couch, having to shift quite a bit to get comfy where there’s no pressure on his ankle. Moments later Kon reappears in the living room with a plastic bag in hand and the smell of Thai food following him. He sets the bag on the coffee table and disappears yet again to get plates and cutlery. Tim takes the opportunity to sort through the food, dividing it to what they ordered separately and what they plan on sharing.

“Thanks for getting the door.” Tim says as Kon returns to the living room and sits down beside him.

Kon raises an eyebrow and pokes him in the shoulder. “Well I wasn’t about to let you wobble to the front door and get it now was I? How would you carry the food and use crutches at the same time.”

Rolling his eyes Tim shoves Kon lightly. “I would have found a way. I’m not entirely useless y’know.”

“I know you’re not. However you’re injured and that means you’re allowed to take it easy, that even includes letting someone else answer the door.”

Tim doesn’t respond to that, instead choosing to dive into his food. His previous thoughts are returning, ones of how he’s useless while injured and how he can’t do anything and the frustration of that. Once again Kon seems to be able to pick up on it.

“Tim don’t worry about it okay. You’ll heal as you always do and you’ll be back out there before you know it. It’s just a little set back that’s all.”

Ignoring his boyfriend’s attempts at comfort, because Tim doesn’t currently want it, he changes topic. Leaning forward he grabs the TV remote and turns it on. “What do you want to watch? I think we’re still halfway through season three of Stranger Things if you fancy continuing to watch that.”

His boyfriend is silent for a while and Tim could feel Kon staring at him. For a moment Tim thought Kon would push the issue but thankfully he seems to decide otherwise, probably deciding that the fight isn’t currently worth it. He moves his gaze off Tim and towards the TV in front of them. “Stranger Things sounds good.”

The two of them settle down properly as they continue to eat and begin to watch the programme. Tim knows a talk between them is coming but for now he’s happy with the mutual ignorance on the topic and happily eats his food sat next to his boyfriend.

[ivarthebadbitch]

Strange things can happen

Chapter 4 summary: Ivar supplements his diet. Aldreda delivers an ultimatum.

Canon divergent, everybody lives, arranged marriage AU after 4x14. Read this chapter on Ao3.

Previous chapters: [1] [2] [3]

On Ao3: [1] [2] [3]

Pairings: Ivar x OC, Ivar vs. basically everyone

Warnings: None

Word count: 1739

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @nukyster-blog @bae-roman (let me know if you’d like to be tagged)

CHAPTER 4: Matthew 6:9-13

Ivar had a pair of unwelcome visitors the morning after his father had left. Aethelwulf, with a skinny and rather nervous-looking priest trailing behind him, had interrupted him in the middle of his chess game and sent Alfred out with a few words. Then he took a seat across from Ivar and folded his hands.

“I will speak plainly with you,” his father-in-law began. “I did not approve of this marriage. I do not like your father, and I do not like you. But the king has made his decision and you are lawfully married to my daughter, and I will abide by it. However, if you are to live among us, then you must conform to our way of living. It is no fault of yours that you were born a heathen, but now you have the opportunity to learn the true religion.”

Without waiting for an answer, he beckoned for the priest to come forward, and then stood up and gave Ivar a hostile smile. “This is Father Wilfred. He is to give you your first lesson today.”

After Aethelwulf was gone, the priest took his seat and handed Ivar a small book. Ivar frowned and flipped through the pages, skimming past indecipherable writing and small pictures of rather miserable-looking saints. He had learned everything he needed to know about the Christians and their false god from Floki and his mother, but he had never held such an object before. He was not particularly impressed.

“I brought you a prayer book,” Father Wilfred said in fairly good Norse. “I know it means little to you now, but in time you will learn and we may read it together. I thought to begin with the Lord’s Prayer from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter six—”

Without breaking eye contact with the priest, Ivar took one of the pages and slowly tore it from the book. Then he stuffed it in his mouth, chewed a few times, and swallowed. It tasted absolutely horrible, but the look on Father Wilfred���s face was worth it.

“...chapter...chapter six—uh, verse nine…” he trailed off. He stood up abruptly. “Maybe we should revisit the lesson later. You can keep the book.”

Once the priest was gone, Ivar tore out a few more pages and scattered them on the floor just because he felt like it. Aethelwulf could pick them up if he wanted. Then he turned back to the chessboard and began plotting out his next move for whenever Alfred returned. This time, he would win for sure.

                                                              ***

Aldreda had never held great hopes for a romantic marriage. Even as a child, she had understood her role as a princess of Wessex: she would marry a man of her grandfather’s choosing in order to secure an alliance, and then she would have his children—preferably male, and preferably many. Whether there was love between her and her husband was of no particular relevance. The most she had dared wish for in a husband was companionship and mutual respect, and that he would not be forty years her senior.

For the moment, the main point in Ivar’s favor was that he was not forty years her senior. In all other matters, he had been less than impressive, especially after a few nights of lying next to him in bed in total silence. Still, her grandfather had been right to say that it would take time for them to get to know each other. Perhaps she just needed to reserve her judgment for now and give him another chance.

Aldreda tried to hold that thought as she joined her family for dinner that evening. She smiled at Ivar as she took her seat beside him. He gave her a look of sheer misery in response, and her desire to be more gracious towards him immediately evaporated. He didn’t have to pretend to be wildly in love with her, but it was no excuse to act like this. Fine, she told him in her head. Sulk as much as you want.

He couldn’t have been that sad, though. She watched as his eyes followed a servant girl around the room. He motioned her over, holding out his cup, and as she poured him more wine he reached out with his free hand and groped her with a sly grin on his face. The girl turned bright red, pressed her lips together, and walked away quickly.

Aldreda glanced around the table to see if anyone had noticed. Her stepmother was talking to her grandfather, and Aethelred was in the middle of a conversation with their father. Only Alfred was staring at her and Ivar with wide eyes. She shook her head at him and then looked over at Ivar, who was happily drinking his wine. She had done her best to be tactful and courteous and accommodating. Now her patience was at an end.

So she waited until everyone was done eating and the plates had been cleared away. Her father took Aethelred and Alfred out to the yard to train before it got too dark, and her grandfather went to his bath and her stepmother to the library (and possibly later to the bath to join her grandfather, Aldreda supposed, but she wasn’t supposed to know anything about that). 

Once they were all gone, she got up and motioned for the guards to take Ivar and follow her back to their room. She waited until the door was fully shut and then she stood there and watched with her arms crossed as he made his way over to the bed, heaved himself onto it, and started undressing for the night. In the beginning, they both had been somewhat embarrassed to undress in front of each other, but after a couple days they mutually decided to simply pretend the other person didn’t exist. 

He finally realized she was watching him by the time he had unstrapped the leather braces he wore around his legs. “What?” he asked her sullenly in English. It was the most he had said to her in days.

“If you touch a servant girl again,” she said in Norse so he could be sure to understand her, “I will—” what was the word for annul, did the Northmen even have such a concept? “—finish the marriage.”

Even if her accent was poor, the meaning must have been clear enough, because Ivar looked startled. “I will say—” she began once more in Norse, and then switched to English. “I will tell everyone you were incapable of doing your duty as a husband, and you will be free of me and I of you.”

He stared at her with wide, panicked eyes. “No!” he snapped. “You can’t.”

“I can,” she said. She leaned back against the door. “You can tell them whatever you like, but I’m the granddaughter of the king, and they will believe my word over yours. It won’t even be a lie. In the beginning I thought perhaps you did not understand what was expected of you, or maybe even that you did not like women at all, but now I think that isn’t so. I think you won’t do it with me because you can’t.”

From across the room she could see his expression darkening, and she was suddenly glad for the space between them. “Shut your mouth,” he muttered at her in Norse, but it was clear that no denial would be forthcoming. Instead he fixed his gaze on the floor.

“I have a proposal for you,” she said, softening her tone slightly. “I will let the marriage continue and I will say nothing. In return, you will never tell me what to do or where I can go. In any disagreements with my father or grandfather, you will always side with me. You will never lay a hand on me without permission. And you will not bother any of the serving girls ever again. Do you agree?”

He gave her a fierce glare, but then his shoulders slumped and she could see he had no real will to fight her. “Yes,” he answered in English after a long moment. “I agree.”

After another moment, she finally crossed the room and took a seat on the bed beside him. “Does anyone else know?”

He glanced at her and then quickly looked away. His cheeks were red. “My brothers,” he replied. “I try—tried with a serving girl. But—”

“Your father didn’t know.”

He shook his head. “He left when I was a boy, and I hadn’t seen him in years,” he explained in his own language. He looked down, picking at a loose thread on his pants. 

“And you didn’t bother to tell him before marrying me.” She had given up trying to communicate in Norse with him by now, but in fairness, he wasn’t attempting English anymore either.

He glared at her once again. “They laugh at me already. If you were me, would you give them another reason?”

“I suppose not,” she had to admit. “But it does not give you the right to behave as you have behaved. You are like a child. Is this how you act at home?”

“You have no right to lecture me. I am your husband.”

Aldreda raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall that we came to an agreement about that just a few minutes ago; have you already forgotten?”

He rolled his eyes at her but did not contest it, and after a moment, she sighed. “I will refrain from lecturing you,” she said. “But you will hold up your end of the bargain.”

He gave her a thoughtful look. “You have an easy way out of this,” he observed. “Why would you want to stay married to me?”

She shrugged. “A daughter must do as her father says until she marries, and then she must do as her husband says. I did not expect to marry you—no more than you expected to marry me—but I would rather come to an arrangement with you than take a chance on another husband who would be less accommodating. And besides, you might decide to become a Christian in time.”

Ivar actually laughed at that, and despite it all, she could not quite stop herself from smiling. “Or you may become a heathen, and together we will make sacrifices to Odin in your grandfather’s hall,” he said with a grin. “Who knows? Strange things can happen.”

[kitaychan]

White Flame

Chapter 4

Rating: M

Warnings: Blood, Psychological Horror

General Summary:  Royal/ Magical AU. As their two Kingdoms get closer to a war, the past keeps on hovering around their choices. Prince Ivan has a hard time controlling his magical powers while being tormented by a mysterious ghost and Prince Alfred embarcs in seeking a revenge that might cost more than it’s worth it.

Preview:  Arthur tried to delay the crowning ceremony, he didn’t want to go through it, it was a horrid setting, the black dresses and the long and exhausted faces of the attendants made it worse. When he walked through the crowd of people, his heartbeat quickened, the silence that engulfed the scene was broken horribly by his footsteps and instead of feeling like the soon to be king in his crowning ceremony, he felt like walking the corridor to his execution.

A crown and a clock.

Arthur was accustomed to his life in the palace.

Tutoring the twins and keeping them company while the king was away was quite easy. He had been bitter at the beginning, deeming the task as a babysitting activity but the peacefulness when Alfred behaved and Madeline played the piano was something he didn’t have back home with all his brothers’ fuss and fights.

In the gardens, he heard the hem of Madeline's dress rustling against the bench while Alfred ran around them claiming to be a knight, the current obsession the young prince had. Arthur smiled at the sight of the fourteen year old liveliness, he hoped that this time Alfred would stick to it instead of abandoning his classes as he had done before, the boy didn’t seem to have a long- lasting vocation. Arthur was disappointed, Alfred showed more interest in the fencing practices than the magic lessons he offered him, after all the magic ran in the family but it was futile to teach the prince if he refused.  Madelaine on the other hand, was so diligent that Arthur was delighted, she’d be able to chant complex spells in no time, her attentiveness and carefulness were compatible with her curiosity and kindness.  

The warm and cozy scene was broken by the galloping of several horses and Alfred’s shouts, the boy ran excitedly to the palace as he heard the clicking of metal and hard footsteps. All that noise could only be due the King’s return.

He followed Madelaine to the entrance, a bitter taste crawling in his mouth when he observed the knights surrounding the entrance, one of them stopping Alfred in his tracks, telling him to stay away. Arthur stepped up to them, a single glance outside confirmed his fears, the horses had returned but there were few men left, the king was nowhere to be seen.

The twins were taken away by a maid, while Arthur was surrounded by courtsmen and the few soldiers that returned. An emergency meeting was held, taking the rest of the day as well as some part of the night, the King’s death was confirmed and the details for the following transition into the next monarch and the current defeat were arranged. Arthur had to sign a poorly done treaty, giving out territories to the enemy in order to assure peace. The only detail missing was that Arthur had to be crowned for the truce to be legitimate.  

The ceremony was going to be quick and solemn, after all, they had to save their respectful duel for the deceased king. Arthur stood still while some servants dressed him, not daring to glance at at them. He’d never admit it, but he was secretly scared and ashamed of his recent promotion if one could call it like that. He tried to not to worry too much about the situation but being told out of the blue that he was to take on the King’s duties until the prince was old enough to do so, were the kind of news that one had to take a week to overcome. All he was given were thirty minutes of breakfast and the resounding cries of two children when they got the news of their father’s death.  

Arthur tried to delay the crowning ceremony, he didn’t want to go through it, it was a horrid setting, the black dresses and the long and exhausted faces of the attendants made it worse. When he walked through the crowd of people, his heartbeat quickened, the silence that engulfed the scene was broken horribly by his footsteps and instead of feeling like the soon to be king in his crowning ceremony, he felt like walking the corridor to his execution.

The smell of incense made him dizzy and the feathery cape they put on him made him sweat. When the crown was placed in his head, he felt chills running down his spine. It was heavy and cold, he wondered if the late king had passed through something similar or if it was just him over analyzing the scene. Arthur tried not not think about it as it reminded him of the fate of the later king. They said it was a coincidence but it took a bit of curiosity and some questions to the soldiers to figure that it wasn’t only an unfortunate conflagration. Fire and ice at the same time were strangely rare and the dimensions of both were suspicious. Arthur was sure magic had to be involved, the question was what kind of it.

The only certain thought that Arthur had at the moment was that everything would change from now on. The predicament that tormented him was if it would change for the better or not.

---

Arriving to his homeland seemed like a fairytale to Ivan, seeing the outlines of the palace from the city entrance was surreal after such a long trip, the sight filled him with ecstasy.

They were received by a cheering crowd, they had returned victorious from a foreign land and for a moment, Ivan let himself be rejoiced by the sudden glory of it; staying back in the city instead of going straight into the palace alongside his father.

The evening went smoothly, the tired soldiers reunited with their families, the citizens offered a feast, unknowingly sharing it with their prince and for what seemed like a short span of time, Ivan felt himself at ease, not caring about his royal duties, his lessons or his father. What would he do? stand up from his illness and drag him back into the palace?

The soldiers seemed to forget about his title, treating him as they would treat any other comrade, offering him the same warmth as they did to their fellow friends. Ivan found himself integrated within the group, they sat alongside, devoured the meals and shared the wine until one of them started to sing.

It was only at that moment that Ivan understood he wasn’t supposed to be there, everybody joined the song while he just stayed there, drinking the awful beverage they called wine. The situation bothered him for a while but a couple of women served him another of those fermented liquors that made the whine seem like the greatest delicacy of the world. He pondered on throwing it away but the warm feeling it gave him made him change his mind.

The night came before Ivan could realize, the people arranged a campfire and some musicians started a simple tune, some gathered around the fire and started a festive dance. He was dragged into the crowd, not bothering much to follow them as the dizziness made him clumsy, not that it mattered as most of the soldiers were worse than him.

The dance was abruptly broken with the arrival of a carriage, Ivan trying to return to his sitting spot without tripping didn’t seem to register the scene until he was forcefully dragged into the carriage. Panic overtook him as he tried to ask for the help of the silent observers, reminding them that he was their prince.

He kept struggling until he met the face of her sister, growing embarrassed of his foolishness.

She crossed her arms glaring at him.  “I can’t believe what you did.”

He looked down, the situation was stupid, he couldn't help but laugh at the display of strictness from his sister. “Katya, what are you doing here? why did they drag me into the carriage?”

“You are drunk!” she exclaimed, furrowing her eyebrows and frowning.

“I am not… that drunk.”

She shook her head. “I won’t talk to you like this. You will go to sleep and we´ll talk tomorrow at first hour.”

“Fine.” Ivan wasn't stupid enough to talk back to Katya when she was displeased, but seeing her frown and give him such disapproving glance made him realize how similar she was to their father.

The silence was bothering him but he was too mortified to keep on talking with her, leaning against the carriage’s window and feeling his eyelids heavier with each second, he let himself drift out to sleep accompanied by the galloping of the horses.

The next day, Ivan woke up with a horrible headache and an overwhelming sense of dread. He had to force himself to be present at breakfast.

At the table, Katya sat with her brows furrowed. “What were you thinking?”

Ivan sighed, taking a seat. “Good morning sister, I am happy to see you too.”

She set aside her fork and scolded. “What is wrong with you? Everyone knows it was you, you stated it quite loudly last night, everyone is talking about it. What do you think Natalya and her family are going to think?”

A plate was arranged for him to eat, alongside some water. Ivan took a sip and  dismissed with his hand. “They’ll think that I got drunk with the rest of the soldiers, which is not wrong. That wasn’t the worst thing I could have done last night, Katya. Anyway, is not like they are going to draw back from the compromise, they did not care when I explained that I was disgusted by it.”

Katya gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “What has happened to you? you spend some time with father and return like a completely different person.”

“How is our father doing?” Ivan glanced at her sister before picking at his food.

Her behavior softened considerably. She moved away her food and looked away from him. “Not well, he keeps saying that the conquest is not over, that we must not sign or accept any peace offering”

“Well, in that he is right. why should we negotiate if we won? I don’t think that’s how a war works.”

She shook her head and raised her voice, her eyes pleading. “Vanya, you have to listen to me, while you arrived, there was a crowning ceremony in the west. The new king has sent a request, to end the conflict. It’s a good deal, convince father of accepting it. It’s enough bloodshed for now.”

Ivan glanced up to see her sister looking intently at him. The idea of talking with their father wasn’t attractive but he’d do as she wanted. After all, going back to another battle wasn’t something he wished to do. He nodded at her.  “I'll try.”

---

Ivan entered the room in silence, trying not to upset the figure resting on the bed.

He sat carefully in the chair that he supposed Katya had moved, meeting those familiar cold eyes that always glared at him, before he could talk, the king started.  “I heard you spent some time with the soldiers.”

“Father, I'm here to talk about something else. My doings in the city are not of importance.”

His father scoffed. “Of course they are. I know what happened, Katya told me everything.”

Ivan frowned, how cruel could Katya be, sending him right into the beast’s fangs.

“Ivan you are old enough to understand that your actions have consequences. What will people think when they see the next king, not only with the peasants but drunk?”

“If this is about Natalya and her family, I assure you they won't care.” Ivan said crossing his arms.

“Of course they won't Ivan,” the king laughed. “My sister will see that you marry her daughter no matter what. I couldn't care less. What I am talking about is the people that matter, like the other princes we've just barely defeated or those from the western kingdom whose king you killed.”

Ivan straightened his posture, fidgeting with his fingers. “Father-”

“Do not interrupt me. You have to get this through, you have a reputation to maintain, you can't show weakness because the moment you do so, they'll attack you. You think you'll win the respect of the one's left in the firebird by sharing a feast? What we'll do from now on is to feed their fear. You saw what happened back there, that Ivan will be the key  to maintain the order or to lose it. If they fear us, they won't fight back.”

Ivan leaned forward, looking down. “About that... they already surrendered, father. We have to rearrange administration and gain back the resources we spent. Signing the peace is the most sensible choice.”

The king sat up, raising his voice. “No, we won't I have to finish this, it is necessary. You are not capable of doing such thing.”

Ivan pushed him down again, not hiding the annoyance of his tone. “Father, you have to rest.”

“No, I can't. I will rest when I die,” he said, prying off Ivan’s hands from him. “This has to finish before you take over the throne. I won't die peacefully knowing that it'll be you doing it. Your mother will kill me.”

Ivan sighed, lowering his voice. “Father… I am sure that mother would have agreed to the treat, she disliked conflict. She'd like me to have a peaceful reign.”

“You Idiot, how dare you use your mother's memory like that,” the king fumed. “that's exactly what I am trying. Why do I have to bear with your useless rambling. Don't waste my time. I… Ivan, what time is it?”

“It’s four past five.”

His father glanced around and questioned. “Where is it? What have you done with it? I won't pass that clock to you, give it back.”

Ivan rolled his eyes and stood up. “I don't know father. It's clear to me that you deem me unworthy of the family relic.”

“Where is it? What have you done?” the king cursed, his tone grew desperate, some servants entered and Ivan stepped back, frowning at his angered father and shrugging.

“Idiot! Where is it? What have you done? Why, why does this have to happen? Not again, this can't happen again. Ivan, what have you done? Where’s Katya?”

His father's shouts were appeased when Katya entered the room and retrieved the clock from the nightstand. The scene made Ivan glare, no matter what, his father would always blame him for everything, even stupid things like this.

Once outside, Katya was scolding him for torturing their father.

Ivan walked hurriedly through the corridor. "It isn't my fault that he has gone mad."

Katya followed his pace, lifting her dress to take longer strides. “You should have told him it was there.”

“How could I if he doesn't let me talk?” he argued.

“Did you manage to convince him?” She whispered.

Ivan stopped, shaking his head. “Katya, just sign the treaty yourself or I will. Father won't last long anyways.”

She gasped, fear crossing her face. “How can you say that?”

“Katya, at this point we are better off without him.” He admitted, looking down after the words left his mouth.

“Ivan!” She warned looking around the hall.

“He won't know unless you tell him,”Ivan murmured. “Sign with his name, you have his seal. If he somehow gets the news blame me for it. What will he do? Execute his successor? The rest of the kingdom approves your plan.”

Katya gasped but stayed silent probably pondering on the idea.

Ivan walked away, trying to evade the blue eyes judging him from above, perhaps he could convince Katya to finally burry that haunting gray wolf.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

War of Attrition: Chapter 23

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: Best friends with Steve Rogers, renowned Howling Commando, and married to one James Buchanan Barnes, your life wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as it could possibly be in the middle of World War II. Then you fell from a train in the Alps, and everything changed. You spent nearly 70 years as a tool of Hydra alongside your beloved, though your past with him was more often than not forgotten. Tony learns the truth. Bucky gets taken to Berlin. Steve and Tony fight. Your and Bucky’s future hangs in the balance. Warnings: Swearing (always), blood, violence, mentions of murder/death Word Count: ~4,637 A/N:  

Masterlist // Book One // Book Two

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

He stared at you for a long time, to the point that it was almost uncomfortable, before he nodded. “Alright, fine. I’ll see what I can do. There’ll be a lo-”

“Tony.” The sound of his name made him pause, fingertip halfway to his Starkpad, eyebrow raised in question. “There’s one more thing you should know about me and Bucky.”

You didn’t try to block the hit. You saw it coming a mile away, but it wasn’t like you didn’t deserve it.

The was a surprising amount of force behind it, but you reminded yourself that Tony spent most of his time in a workshop. Working with heavy machinery all day lent to more muscle than one would expect from a genius billionaire playboy.

Your head whipped to the side with the force of the blow and you’d barely turned your head to look back at him before the next blow came, his fist sending your head swiveling the other direction. 

He was probably being trained by someone- Steve, maybe Tasha?- because his knee came up with surprising swiftness and you felt the air rush out of your lungs. 

The blows didn’t stop and, predictably, the elbow came next, crashing into your face with a strength that probably would have concussed a normal person. As it was, you let the force of the blow topple you to the floor of the plane.

Tony was on you instantly, eyes wild and shining with unshed tears as he rained blows upon you; everywhere from your face to your stomach.

“You killed them!” he screeched, fury and grief twisting his face into something you almost didn’t recognize. “Give me my suit, FRIDAY!” he called to the AI, tone deadly.

“I’m afraid I can’t let that happen at the moment, Master Stark,” Alfred said quietly. He’d been told not to let Tony have any suits, but you’d told him not to interfere otherwise. This was a long time coming and you’d take whatever Stark would dole out without complaint.

Tony swore loudly and landed a few more haymakers on your face. One of them nearly disconnected the optic wires that connected your cybernetic eye, but the visual feed only shuddered dangerously before resuming normal function. You knew, however, that your eye would probably swell shut from the blow.

“FRIDAY, override the AI. Now,” he barked.

“I tried, boss, but they have control of those systems right now,” the female-voiced AI said.

Tony cussed again and hopped off of you, but you made no move to get up. Your body ached distantly; it wasn’t the worst damage you’d suffered (not by a long shot) but your body still protested at the slightest movement.

He picked up the twisted hunk of metal that was his pistol and gripped it in his fist as he stalked back over.

“Help my wife... please... help...”

The video was playing on repeat in the background, Howard Stark’s dying plea filling the cabin, nearly drowned out by the sound of the hunk of metal being used as a blunt weapon against your face and body. You were fairly sure you felt your nose break and bit your tongue to choke back the scream of pain.

“(Y/N)...?”

Tears leaked out of your eyes and slid down the sides of your face and into your hair, but you were too broken to know if they’re from the pain of the beating Tony was giving you or the pain of reliving that moment again.

“He recognized you and you still killed him! You killed your friend!” Tony yelled, red in the face now. Apparently the gun wasn’t satisfying enough because he returned to using his fists. Each time he hit you his knuckles came away bloodier, but you knew at least some of it was his. You could feel cuts and bruises on every inch of your face, but Tony wasn’t done yet.

“Howard! How-”

Maria Stark’s voice acted like a match to a powder keg and Tony rose. You didn’t dare to hope it was over and you were rewarded for your wariness because a second later Tony was stomping down on your left leg, right at the junction between metal and flesh.

You did scream then, the fake nerves on fire as your flesh ground against the metal plates. Even without having to look you knew it was bleeding at the seam of the metal.

“I bet you made it quick, didn’t you? But not too quick, no. You had to make it look like an accident. First you had to run their car off the road. Then you had to make it look like they’d died in the impact, so you crushed my father’s head while your maggot of a husband choked the life out of my mom? Because bullets would have given it away. So you had to get up close and personal and do it. Isn’t that right?” he spat, as he stomped on your fingers and dug his heel into the meat of your hand, giving special focus to the area where the metal met skin.

You let yourself feel the pain. If you dissociated you’d become the Asset and Tony would be dead before he could blink. 

So you screamed as the wiring in your hands was pulled and tugged out of their places, blood and nerves left exposed.

“Say something, you piece of shit!” he yelled as the video started over. You could hear the crash of the car hitting the tree.

You blinked up at him, though it was getting hard as blood had started leaking into your eyes. He was taking in great heaving breaths and he had more than one spot of blood on his suit. 

And you remained silent, because what could you possibly say to this man? What could you ever do to make it right? There was nothing.

He growled when you said nothing and was on top of you again in a flash, hunk of warped gun in his hand. He brought it above his head, raised and ready to strike a blow you knew would split your skull in two, enhancements or no, and closed your eyes.

“Be sure of what you’re about to do, Anthony Edward Stark, because there’s no going back. For either of us.” It was hard to talk with a split lip and your face was already starting to well. It also didn’t help that your head was ringing from the blows, making it even harder to think.

I’m so sorry.

You felt him tense above you and you waited for the blow to come.

It felt like hours, though you knew it was only seconds. However, it was much longer than you’d been expecting.

You cracked open a single eye- the only one you could open right then- and looked up at Tony.

He was frozen, staring at you with such hatred that you nearly recoiled. His dark brown eyes met yours and that broke the spell.

He dropped the useless hunk of gun to the ground, taking you completely by surprise. His fingertips tapped away at his watch and you watched as it transformed into a small Iron Man gauntlet. You barely had time to think about how you should have noticed it before he was pointing it at you.

A huge blast of concussive energy hit you point blank and the world faded to black.

Steve’s POV

They flew them from Bucharest to Berlin. He, Sam, and T’Challa were under heavy guard the entire time, their suits, his shield, Sam’s wings and weapons all confiscated.

The guard they had Bucky under paled in comparison. They’d put him in a sort of reinforced glass cage, but Steve never managed to glimpse his friend behind all of the guards and vehicles, only the reinforced container that no human being had any right being kept in.

“So you like cats?”

Steve glanced behind himself at this friend, face serious. “Sam,” he chastised. This wasn’t the time to be provoking T’Challa.

“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna know more?” Sam asked. From Steve’s spot in the van he could just barely see part of T’Challa’s face, but the warrior-king didn’t turn around to look at them. For all the reaction he showed, Sam might not have even spoken.

Sam had a point, at least, and Steve frowned at the back of T’Challa’s head. “Your suit. It’s Vibranium?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t accusatory.

That, at least, got a reaction out of T’Challa, slight though it was. He turned his head enough to be able to see Steve out of his peripheral vision, expression neutral but unnaturally so, hiding the anger underneath. “The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle passed from warrior to warrior.” As he spoke his gaze returned to the front of the van. “And now because your friends murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king.” Steve recognized the loss in his voice- it was one he knew all too well. “So, I ask you... as both warrior and king-” he turned his head enough to stare at Steve, challenge and anger radiating off of him in waves despite his calm posture, “-how long do you think you can keep your friends safe from me?”

Steve felt himself glaring at the threat so, instead of acting rashly, he turned his glower on the headrest of the driver’s seat and bit out, “You’ve got the wrong people.”

T’Challa didn’t answer that, but Steve could practically feel his dismissal in the man’s posture.

The rest of the very short ride was suffered in silence. Steve watched through the metal grating that covered windows as the long line of military vehicles and cop cars turned into a large building. It was separated into two halves on either side of the river, connected by a sky bridge.

The road tilted downward and the surroundings vanished as the van drove into the underground part of the complex. The tunnel was longer than Steve expected, but eventually the walls opened again to reveal a large, bunker-like room.

By the time they let Steve, Sam, and T’Challa out of the van Bucky had already been unloaded from the huge armored van. He was looking around at the guards as they checked the cage in a sort of resigned way.

The MP standing between him and Bucky’s cage gestured to someone behind Steve so he turned and was surprised to see Sharon standing next to a short man in a grey suit that had an air of self importance that immediately grated on Steve’s nerves. Steve hoped his face remained impassive; Sharon was supposed to be guarding (Y/N), not helping wrangle the situation in Berlin. She barely glanced at him, the only outward sign of nervousness the way she shifted from foot to foot.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Steve asked the two of them, all business as he stalked towards them, T’Challa and Sam close behind.

“Same thing that oughta happen to you,” the man in the suit said with a smarmy smile. “Psychological evaluation and extradition.” He looked pleased as hell and Steve wanted to punch him in the face.

Sharon seemed to sense this and quickly spoke up. “This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander.” Steve didn’t miss the way she couldn’t seem to make eye contact with him.

“What about their lawyer?”

If anything, Ross’ smile became even more smug. “Lawyer. That’s funny.” Sharon glanced at Ross, frown on her face, but said nothing. “See that their weapons are placed in lockup,” he said, head tilting towards the MPs escorting the three of them. “Oh, we’ll write you a receipt,” he said, all false geniality.

“I better not look out the window and see anyone flying around in that,” Sam said testily. Ross, however, paid him no mind and was already walking deeper into the building with Steve, T’Challa, and Sam following warily behind. Steve threw one last look over his shoulder, just in time to see reinforced concrete doors shut with Bucky behind them. The defeated look on his face made Steve feel like there was a hot knife twisting in his gut.

He’d failed you.

They made it all of five feet before Ross paused and pulled his phone out of his pocket (Steve had no idea how the man had cell service down here). Whoever was talking to him on the other end of the line gave him something to smile about and Steve felt a little bit of dread curl in the pit of his stomach. Steve had decided within five seconds of meeting the man that whatever made him smile was something to be concerned about.

He turns a triumphant smile on Steve and holds his arms out grandly. “I hope you enjoyed your brief stint, Captain. We’re going to have a nice long conversation about why you tried to stop my men from apprehending Barnes, but the good guys come out on top in the end. Stark’s on his way and he’s bringing something that’ll make my year,” Ross said, hands clasped together as though praying to some deity for making his life.

Neither he, Sam, nor T’Challa took the obvious bait, but Sharon- thanks to her job- had to ask, “What’s the situation, sir?”

Ross turned a megawatt smile on her. “We have the matching set! I honestly thought she’d go to ground after we caught her accomplice, but Stark’s bringing the illustrious Misses Barnes with him. His helicopter’s due to land in a few minutes!” he said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Both Winter Soldiers in one day! Pinch me, I’m dreaming!” he gushed as he turned away again and practically strutted towards the doors.

Steve’s eyes were wide, looking between Sharon and Ross in horror. She looked as confused as he did, but hastily turned and trailed after her boss.

The MPs shoved him forward and Steve’s brain kicked back into gear, feet quickly eating up the gap that had grown between him and Ross. He could hear Sam trying to keep up and knew, even though he couldn’t hear him, T’Challa was close behind.

The guards kept Steve from getting too close to Ross and Sharon was just as clueless as he was, so it was a bit of relief when the elevator doors opened and Natasha stepped out and immediately made a beeline for him, expression severe.

“For the record, this is what making things worse looks like,” she said as she went to stand beside him. 

Steve didn’t look at her, just watched as Ross and Sharon disappeared into one of the elevators while they waited for the next one. “He’s alive.” He glanced at her, then, and saw that she was glancing around warily. “What Ross said about Tony having (Y/N). Is that true?”

He could see her green eyes flick up to him and then away again. “We’ll see in a few minutes. Stark is landing any second now.”

The elevator ride to the operations room was awkward at best. Sam, Steve, and Natasha all crammed into one elevator with guards while T’Challa rode in a different one.

When the doors finally opened Steve was met with a hive of activity and a plethora of screens monitoring just about everything in the building, including where Bucky was being held. 

A set of doors on the other end of room opened and Tony marched through, looking thunderous.

Ross, however, didn’t seem to notice. “There’s the Iron Man of the hour! We’ve already sent teams up to secure the fugitive. I’m assuming she’s being contained by one of your inventions, so-”

Tony glared at him. “Actually she’s just unconscious. Have at ‘er,” he said bitterly. In all the years he’d known Tony, Steve had only heard him talk like that once or twice, all regarding painful things. For someone who had apparently apprehended one of the most dangerous assassins in the world, he seemed surprisingly... fine? Physically, at least.

So when Tony looked around the room, spotted Steve through the glass of the meeting room, and glared, Steve felt his hackles rise. He left Ross gaping as he cut a warpath through the room, directly to Steve.

Natasha put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down, but he brushed it aside and placed a hand to the center of Steve’s chest, pushing him backwards until he hit the wall.

The entire room around them froze, everyone carefully assessing what was happening.

“Did you know?” Tony hissed between clenched teeth, dark brown eyes searching.

Steve was floored. The only other time Tony had acted like this towards him was when they were all being influenced by Loki’s scepter. “What are you talkin-” he began, but Tony’s face twisted with anger.

“Did you know they killed my parents?” he yelled. If Steve wasn’t enhanced, the fingers on his chest would have been painful. Now that Steve really looked, he could tell Tony was on the verge of crying.

The world fell out from under Steve’s feet for a moment. Sure, he’d had his suspicions. After spending so much time researching and looking for the Winter Soldiers, he probably knew more about them than just about anyone else (not even counting what he knew about them before they were brainwashed and enhanced). He thought they might be responsible, but to tell Tony that without proof? Bring up that pain again when he couldn’t be sure? What was the point?

“I didn’t know it was them,” Steve answered, heart clenching painfully.

Tony grabbed him by the shirt and tugged him forward, eyes going a bit manic. “Don’t bullshit me, Rogers,” he hissed venomously. “Did. You. Know?”

Steve stared at Tony- his friend- searchingly. There was no point in softening the blow, was there? No sense in lying, not about something so important. He clenched his jaw, mouth set in a tight line. “Yes.”

Tony reeled as if he’d been struck and took a step back, Steve’s shirt falling from his grasp. Steve watched him, wary, as Stark turned half away from him, chest heaving. When he glanced down it took him a second to realize what he was seeing.

Tony’s knuckles had been reduced to a bloody mess.

It all clicked into place. “Tony, what did you-”

Steve saw the hit coming but he was too stunned by the sudden turn of events to find the wherewithal to block or dodge it.

Tony’s bloody fist connected with the side of Steve’s head, though Steve had a feeling Tony had taken more damage than he did. Blood that wasn’t his own coated his jaw and Steve stared at Tony, shocked. Natasha and Sam were between them in an instant because Tony looked like he wanted to go after Steve again.

“She had a recording of it, you know! Of them killing my parents! I got to watch her bash my dad’s skull in and hear the gasps from my mom as he squeezed the life out of her!” Tony seethed, eyes wild and dangerous.

Steve’s hand drifted up of its own accord and swiped at the blood. “It wasn’t them, Tony. Hydra had control of their minds.”

Tony barely blinked. “I don’t care. They killed my mom.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that. Tony wasn’t thinking straight right now, not that Steve could blame him. Trying to get him to see- to understand- would be nigh impossible right now.

“Tony!” It was Natasha who spoke up, voice clear and demanding enough that he finally looked away from Steve, though the wild, hunted look in his eyes didn’t go away. “I know you’re hurting right now, but it’s done. They’ve been captured. What happens to them next isn’t up to us. Any of us,” she said, looking between Steve and Tony pointedly at that last sentence. The hint of sadness in her voice might have slipped under the radar for the others, but Steve recognized it for what it was.

Tony’s hand remained clenched at this sides and he looked carefully from Steve, to Natasha, and to all the gawking onlookers before he turned and stalked away before sitting down almost violently at one of the free chairs in the room.

Despite what people thought, Steve knew when to leave well enough alone. This was a fight for another day, when Tony had some time to process what had happened.

A flurry of activity at the other end of the room caught his attention and, when his enhanced vision let him see the the feed from the cameras on the roof, he found himself walking forward, needing to get a closer look.

He ignored the protests of the people at their stations and stared, horrified, as a team wheeled you out on a gurney, oxygen mask over your mouth and nose. Your face was so swollen and bloody that Steve could hardly recognize you. In fact, if it wasn’t for the metal legs and golden wiring, he wouldn’t have been able to.

A medical team- surrounded by heavily armed guards- was swarming around you as they led you into the building. Steve could see the heavy metal restraints tying your legs in place. Imposing but decidedly less powerful restraints held your arms in place. He could see Natasha walk up beside him out of the corner of his eye, but his eyes were riveted to the screen in front of him.

“Who did this?” Steve asked, as calmly and evenly as he could manage. Even before Hydra got a hold of her and Bucky (Y/N) was a force to be reckoned with. That she’d been subdued- even by Tony or a large group of elite soldiers- was practically laughable. Well, no. Tony could do it but- “Don’t answer that. I already know,” Steve said, turning slowly to stare at Tony who had his back to the two of them.

Natasha glanced between them, eyes lingering on the screen that was following your progress through the halls of the compound. “You don’t know what happened, Steve.”

Steve turned an unimpressed stare on her as Sam walked up and whistled lowly at the screen, looking away when he got a particularly high res image of the damage. “She’s beat black and blue and the only damage he has is on his knuckles? Want to explain to me how that one happened, Nat?” he snarled.

Sam nodded, though he looked less than thrilled by this news. “Don’t get wounds like that in an Iron Man suit and something tells me he’d have more than a few scrapes on his knuckles if she was fighting him for real.”

Natasha’s mouth was set in a hard line, but even she couldn’t deny that. Knowing he was right, Steve looked over her head at Ross, who was talking to people on a radio. “You’re going to stabilize her and treat her wounds, right?” he asked, tone leaving little room for arguments.

Ross, however, was nearly foolish in his righteousness. “Can’t get information from her if she’s dead,” was all the answer he gave before he turned back to the monitors.

It was a yes, backhanded as it was, and a tiny weight was taken off his shoulders. They wouldn’t let you die because they needed you. He could work with that for now.

“This way,” Natasha said quietly, jerking her head ever so slightly in the direction of the glass box of a conference room in the center of the operations center. Steve gave Ross and the monitors one last glance before he followed her, Sam following closely. Tony glared at them as they passed, but Steve couldn’t look at him right then. He was too angry.

The doors slid closed silently behind Sam and they took a seat the table. To Steve’s surprise Sharon came in hot on their heels, face unreadable. “She’s being taken to medical under heavy guard. Her injuries aren’t life-threatening. It was a sonic blast that knocked her unconscious, not the head trauma. We’re trying to get a scan but it’s difficult with all of the tech in her head. We think nothing’s broken, but they can’t be sure without more information.”

Steve leaned back in his seat and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He saw Natasha do the same, though more subtly. “Does Bucky know? That she’s here?”

Sharon frowned slightly and turned away to watch the screens; one of (Y/N) in the medical wing, the other of Bucky in his pod. From the looks of it, they’d sent someone in to talk to him. She shook her head. “Ross wants to keep him as calm as possible for the time being. Chances are that once she’s been stabilized and had some time to heal she’ll be used as leverage to get information from him. A lot of what they do and where they’ve been is a mystery, but one thing always seems to hold true; they’re always together.”

Steve tried to hold back a glower and probably failed. “Because they’re still in there. They still love each other.”

Sharon’s gaze slid from the monitors to Steve, but Steve looked away, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. “They were also partners for years, Steve. If our data’s correct they went on hundreds of missions together. That could easily be the reason why they stay together. Either way, it seems like the best way to coerce them into talking.”

Steve sighed and buried his face in his hands, taking a second to collect his thoughts. “She seemed convinced that someone was out there pulling the strings- something we didn’t see. What if she was right?”

Natasha frowned and leaned forward slightly. “What are you talking about, Steve?”

Steve spotted the photo- the one of “Bucky” next to the news van- on the desk and picked it up, showing it to the other three. “Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?”

Sharon shrugged, gesturing halfheartedly with her hand. “Get the word out? Involve as many eyes as we can?” she suggested with a little shake of her head.

Steve nodded. “Right. That’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding.”

“Set of a bomb, get your picture taken,” Natasha said quietly, green eyes calculating as she watched Steve closely.

“Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldiers,” Steve added.

Sharon nodded, eyes downcast as she thought about it. “You’re saying someone framed them to find them.”

Sam shook his head, fingers laced together on the table in front of him. “Steve, we looked for them for two years and found nothing.”

“We didn’t bomb the UN,” Steve countered.

Natasha nodded minutely. “That turns a lot of heads.”

Sharon was staring at the ground, hand on her hip as she thought about it. “Yeah but that doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would.”

There was a pause in which the words sunk in, then the four of them looked up at the screen showing Bucky’s cell, eyes widening in understanding.

“Yeah,” Steve said gravely as he stared at the image of the psychologist’s back.

As if on cue, the lights in the room flickered and died and the emergency lights turned on, bathing the room in a red glow. Sam perked up immediately but Natasha was out of her seat in an instant, looking at the people around her.

Steve turned in a slow circle before his gaze finally fell on Sharon.

She took one look at him and steeled herself. “Sub-level five, East Wing.”

Sam, Steve, and Natasha were headed for the door before she’d even finished talking.

Next Chapter

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[lizartgurl]

I wish you would write a fic where Emma’s celebrates her first birthday at the manor

ANDI I LOVE THE NEW ICON IT’S MAGICAL

And this…this got way too long.

Mary and John Grayson were murdered on April 1, 2006. A little over a month later, on May fifteenth, Emma Mary Grasyon, her mother’s namesake, was supposed to celebrate her twelfth birthday in a place that was still strange, where the only family to celebrate with her was her little brother. Neither of them were in a mood for celebrating.

Emma woke up that morning with eight-year-old Richard snuggled against her, squeezing the life from his plush elephant, Zitka, named for their elephant friend from the Circus. She had been a “Welcome Home” gift from Mister Bruce, an attempt to make the vast and empty Wayne Manor feel more alive. 

Emma had lion of her own, named Simba. The circus had tigers, but not lions, so her little friend was named after the Lion King who also had to witness his father falling to his death. 

Emma tossed Simba across the room, he softly hit the door and fell to the floor as Alfred the Butler opened it.

“I assume Master Richard had another nightmare?” He asked quietly.

Emma nodded, slowly sitting up. Being called “master” or “miss” was still something she was getting used to.

“Then I will bring his uniform in here and make sure to keep the pancakes warm. I believe it would be best to let him sleep for now.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, and made her way over to the wide expanse of a vanity, brushing her back into a ponytail, just as she always did.

Alfred didn’t leave, dusting off Emma’s school uniform that had been pressed and set out on her desk chair the night before.

“Did you sleep quite well last night, Miss Emma?” He asked.

Emma snapped the elastic into place, “Just fine,” She assured him.

“If I may,” Alfred pulled a burgundy red ribbon from his pocket, carefully tying a bow around her ponytail.

“Happy Birthday, Miss Emma,” He gave the young girl a soft smile beneath his perfectly groomed mustache.

Emma made the effort to smile up at the old butler. “Thanks, Alfred.”

Thirty minutes later, Richard was running down the stairs, struggling to straighten out his school uniform as he sprinted to join Emma, Bruce, and little ‘Bella at the breakfast table.

“Morning, Champ,” Bruce said, not looking up from his paper. Emma noted that he was reading an article by Clark Kent, one of his friends, about the ridiculousness of the argument of “Batman versus Superman.”

“What’s he say?” Emma asked. Richard punctuated her question by piling tons of whipped cream onto his stack of pancakes, already drenched with syrup. Five-year-old Annabella watched Rick’s experiment of how high he could pile the cream before it fell over with wide brown eyes.

Mister Bruce grunted, “That Batman and Superman would work better together than fighting.”

Emma gave a “huh,” slowly chewing her strawberries and pancakes.

“I bet Superman would win.” She said, taking another bite. Bruce raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“No way!” Rick declared, already standing on his chair. “Batman has all those gadgets and stuff! And he’s smart! He’d find a way to stop Superman!”

“But why would they be fighting?” Annabella asked, forgoing the fork and eating her pancake with her bare hands. Alfred rushed forward with a damp cloth to stave off the syrup.

“That’s a good question, sweetheart,” Bruce leaned forward to kiss his daughter’s forehead, “But you are right, Richard, I bet Batman could take Superman down if he really had to.”

“Well,” Alfred interjected, “I happen to think that Superman could whip Batman’s tush if he so desired.”

Emma, Richard, and Annabella burst into laughter. As if Alfred’s accent weren’t already perfect, the way he said “tush” was still hilarious to a couple of kids.

“Okay, okay, I guess they probably wouldn’t be fighting in the first place,” Bruce stood up to help Alfred clear the dishes, “In fact, there’s been talk that they’re going to start a team with some of the other heroes.”

“Like Wonder Woman?” Emma gasped.

“And Flash?” Richard asked through a mouth of whipped cream.

“And the other heroes who helped them with that alien invasion a couple months ago. Now chew with your mouth closed, champ, and hurry up, we gotta get you two to school.

-

Middle School would have been absolute Tartarus for “charity project” Emma Grayson if it weren’t for Bette Kane, Bruce’s cousin and heir to her own fortune. Emma giggled as Bette stood up in the middle of social studies to give a five-minute rant about how the myth of Medusa was just a bunch of Greek men with their togas on too tight projecting all their fears onto a woman and how that was still evident in today’s society. The teacher was stone-faced for ten minutes while the class applauded her.

“Alfred told me it was your birthday, today, so I brought cupcakes!” Bette said at lunchtime. They were huddled in their own corner of the courtyard, no one was going to bother them here. There weren’t any candles allowed on school grounds, but Bette sang her the “happy birthday” rendition from Emperor’s New Groove, and Emma had another reason to laugh, though she regretted that the chocolate cupcakes Bette brought tasted nothing like Aunt Kayla’s birthday cakes.

Not even Rick had wished her a happy birthday, she sighed as the three Wayne children arrived home from school to an empty manor. Bella, still in kindergarten, ignored her homework in favor of the gardens, and since Rick was still in elementary school and summer break was fast approaching, he followed. Alfred went with them to supervise after making sure that Emma was content in the Manor’s library with a plate of milk and cookies. 

Emma soon abandoned her boring few assignments, scouring the shelves for anything interesting to read. Her eyes fell on a copy of “The Mask of Zorro,” novelization. It sounded only slightly more interesting than “Pride and Prejudice”, but it seemed that it didn’t want to come off the shelf. 

With a yank, she managed to pull the book forward, but not completely off the shelf. The floor beneath her feet shook, and that section of the shelf crawled forward, just enough that it could slide in front of another section.

Right behind the shelf was a cool, dark staircase, illuminated with tiny blue lights, curving down and out of sight.

She jumped back, unable to process this discovery, and a few minutes, the shelf returned to its proper position with a loud cranking noise.

She turned and ran from the library. 

Alfred was in the kitchen, patching Annabella’s knee, so Emma ran straight for Rick, lining up sticks and pebbles to create his own version of Gotham city.

“Richard! You gotta come see this, now!” It only took minimal dragging to get Rick all the way to the library, but a lot of cajoling to get him to stand right there and be patient while she found the right book. Then, he was the one dragging her down the stairs to see what was hidden at the bottom. Emma was the only one of them who noticed when the door shut behind them. With no apparent way out, she followed Rick to the bottom.

“Woah,” Rick gasped as the stairway opened up into a cavern. Stalactites still hung from the top, interspersed with small groups of annoyed, fluffy bats, but the stalagmites on the floor had been cleared for catwalks, computers, suits in display cases, a giant playing card, and a giant mechanical dinosaur, of all things.

“This is awesome!” Rick shouted to make his voice echo with the dripping water.

Emma had a sneaking suspicion that they shouldn’t be there, and tried to back up, only to run into a wall. But it wasn’t a wall. She turned, and it was Bruce, glaring down at the both of them, arms crossed over a giant, black, Batman symbol on his chest.

“You’re him,” she squeaked. 

“Batman!” Rick gasped. 

Bruce just sighed, “I didn’t think you would be home from school yet. Get back upstairs, both of you.”

“What? Why?” Rick whined.

“Because I’m Batman, and I said so.” Bruce growled.

Richard glared at Batman’s cape as he sashayed away, confident that was enough to make them obey.

“You can’t make me, you’re not my dad!” He ducked under Bruce’s arm and swung from one catwalk to the next, deftly balancing on the rails as he rain, taking shortcuts a grown man like Bruce couldn’t hope to achieve, even if he was Batman.

As out-of-place as she felt, Emma was curious, about the cave, and about her foster father being Batman. He had been there the night that her family died. Why didn’t he save them? Batman was supposed to be a detective, wasn’t he? So why didn’t he stop Mister Zucco? 

Inflamed by a sudden bout of anger, Emma leaped up onto the railing, copying Richard as she ran after Bruce. She landed on his cape for a moment, enough to distract him from grabbing Rick, and then leave him confused over which child to catch first. That gave her enough of a lead to make it to his giant computer.

Bruce caught Richard fairly quickly, a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder as he steered him to where his sister was waiting, but not quite hiding. He was a little ticked to find Emma sitting in his favorite chair- the only chair in his hideout, as a matter of fact- in front of the computer, eyes narrowed and arms folded tightly.

“You know where Zucco is,” She accused coldly, the GPS on display for all to see on the screen behind her.

Bruce couldn’t find an answer as Richard looked up to him, shocked and hurt.

“You were there that night,” Emma stood up, rigid and shaking, “You could have stopped him, and you didn’t. And now Mami, Tati, Aunt Kayla, and Jonny are dead, and Uncle Joseph is paralyzed for life.”

“You’re right,” Bruce admitted, which surprised both Graysons, “I could have stopped Zucco and his men, and I didn’t. I doubted that Zucco would do something so bold in plain sight, and it cost your family their lives.”

Emma’s eyes stung and Bruce released his grip on Richard and took her by the shoulders, kneeling in front of her. “That’s why I took you two in, because I know what it’s like to lose your family, and because I promised myself that I was going to stop Zucco from ever doing something like this again.

Richard sniffed loudly, and Emma wiped her own tears with the hem of her school jacket. “Let us help you,” She begged.

“No,” Bruce said with finality. He stood up, pulling Batman’s familiar cowl over his face. “You two stay here. I’ll take down Zucco and be back in time to tuck the two of you and Annabella into bed.”

Still, Emma and Richard persisted, following him down to the “Bat-Mobile, waiting on a rotating platform to shoot off in any direction at a moment’s notice. 

“You two can’t get involved with this,” Bruce insisted, “It’s too dangerous.”

“So was the acrobatics we did at Haly’s.” Emma huffed.

“No. Now get upstairs before I call Alfred,” the top of the Bat-mobile slammed shut, and shot off through the waterfall that concealed the cave’s entrance from the rest of Gotham.

Emma’s hands shook. She didn’t care if Bruce was really batman or Wonder Woman or whatever. Tony Zucco had killed her parents, and she wasn’t going to stand by and let him hurt anyone else, either.

“Emma,” Richard said quietly, “Do you know where Alfred put our old costumes?”

Emma knew her little brother was thinking what she was, and as she grinned at him, her eyes landed on a couple spare masks and sheets of kevlar, just big enough to be called a cape.

-

Batman caught Zucco and his men breaking into the Graysons belonging left in storage under Joseph Grayson’s name. When he woke up, he was strapped to a spinning target on the grounds previously occupied by Haly’s circus. You could still see some of the darkened dirt where the Graysons had fallen. Zucco was throwing knives at him with reckless abandon, while his men watched and laughed. 

“Look out, Batman!” Zucco cackled. Another knife flew through the air, aimed for his heart, but something knocked it to the ground. A dull batarang, one he’d left behind at the cave for Alfred to sharpen.

“Excellent shot, Miss Grayson,” Alfred’s voice manifested over his comms a moment later, as one of Zucco’s thugs had his feet yanked out from beneath him, and another was struck with a batarang to the shoulder.

“Alfred,” Bruce growled so that Zucco couldn’t heard over the sudden commotion.

“I’m afraid that they insisted, as you typically do,” Alfred quipped. “And I can’t very well quarantine all three children in the house at once.”

Bruce rolled his eyes as Emma Grayson, golden wings splayed across her red tunic top, eyes hidden behind a mask, and protected by a yellow skein of kevlar, sliced away the rope holding back his hands.

“Thank you,” He grunted, crouching to the ground. His belt had been stolen, but he grabbed a knife from the target board. With a flick of his wrist, it knocked the fedora clean off Zucco’s head.

Out of Batarangs, Richard and Emma each grabbed a couple knives that had nearly killed Batman to fend off the thugs that were now running at them.

Then Emma saw the gold dangling from Zucco’s pocket. Her mother’s necklace, a robin on a branch, made from solid gold. A Wedding present from John to Mary. She screamed with fury, using her knife to slice the hand Zucco was using to reach inside his coat for another knife. She went for his face next, but it was Batman who grabbed her wrist, blocking her from Zucco, who lay whimpering on the ground.

“He deserves it!” She spat, “He killed them!” 

Bruce kicked Zucco in the face with his heavy boots, down for the count as he gripped Emma’s arms tightly.

“It isn’t up to us to decide who lives and who dies. That’s how they think,” He nodded to Zucco, then to his men, who had been casually taken out by a few easy flips from junior acrobat Rick.

“Emma,” Bruce tried again when she refused to look him in the eyes. “Would your parents want you yo give in to your anger, to go down a path that’s very hard to return from, just for them?”

Lip trembling, Emma shook her head, and threw her arms around Bruce, sobbing. Rick joined them a moment later, also crying. 

They watched from a distance a few minutes later, as Commissioner Gordon arrived to arrest Zucco’s gang for murder, and thievery. Emma absently traced a heart in the dirt with her toe, holding Richard’s hand.

“I’m proud of you,” Bruce said as the police caravan drove away, “Both of you.”

He drew something from the pouch of his retrieved utility belt. “I believe that this belongs to you,” He held out Mary Grayson’s robin necklace to Emma, securing it around her neck.

“Happy Birthday, Emma.”

[my-one-love-is-music]

The Successful Acrobat’s Guide to High School Ch.8

So this was supposed to be posted a week ago, but because I was insanely sick for the past week I've only had the energy to do it now that I'm finally coming out of it.

As always, I love this fic and am stoked to get to share an update with y'all so please enjoy!

Also on AO3!

Dick bit his lip as he paced in front of the school. He hadn’t bothered changing out of the shorts and crop top he wore for practice, not in the mood to put his sticky, soda-covered clothes back on.

The rest of the cross-country team had already walked out of the building, some of them being friendlier than usual, but Dick was more concerned with Wally. He knew his fall hadn’t been a bad one and he’d been walking alright, but Dick knew if he got injured badly enough that he was out for the season or even just a couple of practices, it would be enough to send his mood spiraling.

“Dick, I’m sure he’s okay,” Megan said, trying to catch his arm as he carefully kept out of reach.

“But what if he’s not?” he huffed, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s fine, Dick,” Zatanna said with a roll of her eyes. “He just had a cut over his eyebrow and maybe a skinned knee. It’s nothing that won’t heal in a matter of days.”

“I guess…” Dick said. “But what if-”

“No, what ifs!” Zatanna cried. “You’re not doing yourself any good imagining the worst-case scenario and it’s ridiculous you’d think he’d have internal bleeding from a little fumble.”

“I don’t think he’s got internal bleeding,” he muttered even as his brain latched onto the idea.

“What’s up with him?” Connor asked, wandering up to their group.

Megan grinned and wrapped her arms around Connor’s arm, watching Dick with soft eyes.

“Dick thinks Wally’s terminally ill because he fell at practice,” Zatanna bit out, crossing her arms.

Connor frowned. “Oh yeah, I think I saw that. He was fine though, right?”

“He was completely fine,” Zatanna agreed. “But for some reason Dick can’t wrap his head around that even though we keep telling him there’s nothing to worry about.”

“But what if-” Dick started, whirling around to face her.

“No!” Zatanna shouted, pointing a finger at him.

“Is everything alright?”

Dick’s shoulders slumped and he pouted, glancing over his shoulder to find Kaldur behind him.

“Don’t even ask,” Zatanna threatened.

“I don’t think I need to, it would be pretty difficult to not understand Dick’s concerned for his boyfriend when you’re not being subtle in your argument,” Kaldur said with a smile. “But don’t worry, my friend. He will be fine.”

Misery curled in Dick’s stomach and he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Wally’s not my boyfriend,” he sighed, ignoring how he sounded more miserable than he should. They were best friends. That was all he needed. He shouldn’t be allowed to be bitter about something he’d never have.

He ducked his head, missing the confused look Kaldur gave Zatanna who shook her head.

Zatanna sighed, her irritation draining away. “Look, Dick…”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I just…you know what? Never mind.”

The door opened behind him and Dick whirled around, eyes hopeful. Relief washed through him as Wally stepped through the double doors.

“Wally,” he cried, rushing over to him. “Are you okay?” he asked, gripping his face between his palms to turn his head from side to side to get a better look at the cut on his eyebrow. “You’re good to keep running, right?”

Wally cleared his throat and stepped back out of Dick’s reach. He scratched the back of his head and Dick watched his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

“I’m fine, Dick. Just a few scrapes and cuts. There’s nothing that’s going to keep me out of practice or our upcoming meet. I just need to be more careful.”

Dick sighed and smiled, the tension and worry that had been holding his body hostage finally draining away. “Good, I’m glad you’re okay.”

Wally nodded, his hand falling back to his side.

“Well now that we’ve got proof you’re not getting whisked away to the hospital, how do all of us feel about going to the diner for a snack?” Zatanna asked.

Dick nodded at her and turned to say something to Wally when he caught the shake of his head.

“I think I’m just going to head home today. Thanks though,” he said, taking a few steps to the side.

Dick’s good mood soured slightly that Wally was leaving so soon.

“I’ll talk to you later. Okay, Dick?” he said, walking a few steps backwards before he turned on his heel and left them behind.

Dick frowned. “Maybe something is still wrong with him,” he muttered. “He never says no to food. Maybe I should go check on him and make sure he gets home okay.”

“He’s fine, Dick,” Zatanna huffed, grabbing his arm. “And you’re not going to do yourself any good by chasing him down.

“She’s right, Dick,” Megan agreed. “I’m sure he’ll be back to his usual self tomorrow at school. He’s probably just embarrassed and frustrated at having fallen at practice. Didn’t you say he was ahead of the rest of the team? He was probably hoping to beat them.”

Dick shook his head, trying to put what he was feeling into words. He knew Wally. And this kind of behavior was so far off from how he usually was.

“Come on, I’m sure a snack from the diner will make you feel better,” Zatanna sang.

Dick shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not today.”

Zatanna huffed.

“I’m just gonna call Alfred and have him take me home. I’ll see all of you tomorrow, okay?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Zatanna’s expression softened and she patted him on the shoulder. Megan waved and Kaldur and Connor nodded before they walked off.

Dick pulled out his phone and shuffled over to the bench in front of the school. He rang the house phone, biting his lip as he waited for it to be picked up.

“Wayne residence,” Alfred answered politely.

“Hey Al. It’s me, Dick,” he said.

“Master Dick, what can I do for you?”

“Can you come get me from school?”

“Is everything all right?” Alfred asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…I just want to come home,” he murmured.

“Very well. I’ll be around with the car soon.”

“Thanks, Al,” Dick said and ended the call. He shoved his phone into his pocket and buried his face in his hands, his leg jiggling up and down on the sidewalk.

He was worried about Wally and he felt terrible and awful like he could’ve done something to help him. Avoiding a physical injury was a miracle and Dick could only hope it would stay that way. Maybe he could make Wally feel better if he took him out for pizza after his first meet of the year.

But knowing Barry and Iris, they’d do the same thing and it wouldn’t matter what he wanted to do…

“Master Dick?”

Dick sighed and dropped his hands, looking up at Alfred who was standing in front of him.

“Are you ready to return home?” he asked, gesturing to the car.

Dick nodded and stood from the bench, shuffling over to the waiting car. He climbed into the back, letting Alfred shut the door behind him before he slid into the front seat and pulled away from the curb.

Dick stared out the window, glad for the momentary silence as they drove through the streets of Gotham.

He sighed and rested his head against the glass, letting his eyes slide shut. He could practically feel Alfred’s gaze on him through the rearview mirror and only hoped that he wasn’t so concerned he wasn’t paying attention to the other cars around them.

“Why don’t you go and get changed and meet me back in the kitchen?” Alfred asked, breaking the silence.

Dick blinked his eyes open and found they were already crawling up the drive to the house.

“Why?” he mumbled.

“Trust me, Master Dick,” Alfred said, slowing to a stop in the garage.

Dick hummed and shoved the door of the car open. He crawled out and shut it behind him before shuffling through the door into the house.

He navigated the house by memory until he reached his room and dumped his backpack on the floor, barely remembering to pull his dirty clothes free to toss in the hamper. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a tee to replace his sweaty cheer clothes.

Dick sighed, feeling a bit better once he was changed. There was more pep to his step as he jogged down the stairs and pushed through the door to the kitchen, but his swirling thoughts about Wally still weighed down his shoulders.

“You’re already looking much better,” Alfred said, placing a plate of cookies on the table. “Now, I think it’s time for a snack.”

Dick slid into one of the chairs, pulling his legs underneath himself to sit cross-legged as Alfred took the seat across from him.

“Would you care to tell me what has you so down, Master Dick?” Alfred asked, giving him a moment to enjoy the warm cookies.

Dick swallowed and stared at the food in his hand. “It’s Wally.”

“Is something wrong with him? The two of you never fight so I can’t imagine it’s something like that.”

Dick shook his head. “Not really. I mean, he fell at practice and got a little scraped up, but he’s okay. He didn’t get seriously injured. But he wasn’t really acting like he usually does and I’m worried about him. I mean, he didn’t even want to go to the diner for a snack! And food is always what’s on his mind.”

Alfred nodded and smiled. “Well, I think with such a kind friend as you looking after him, he’ll be just fine.”

Dick nodded and swiped another cookie from the plate, taking a large bite from it. He chewed slowly, the sugar helping lift his mood a little more.

“You know what I think, Master Dick?” Alfred asked.

Dick raised his head and swallowed. “What?” he asked.

“I think you should meet me in the car because there’s somewhere we should go.”

Dick frowned. “But what do we have to do? There’s not an event for Bruce’s work tonight and I just got home from school.”

“Trust me, Master Dick. I think there’s one other place where you should be.”

“Okay,” he said, not sounding convinced. He shoved the rest of his cookie into his mouth and stood from his chair. He swiped two more cookies and padded out of the kitchen.

He stopped in the foyer and grabbed a pair of shoes that hadn’t made it back to his room, shoving his feet into them as he munched on one of the cookies.

Dick pulled open the front door and jogged down the steps turning towards the garage, the door still open from when they’d arrived home.

He didn’t crawl into the back seat of the car, choosing to lean against the trunk as he waited for Alfred to exit the house.

“Go on and get into the back. We’re going for a little bit of a drive,” Alfred said, unlocking the car.

Dick nodded and crawled into the back, putting his seatbelt securely in place as Alfred slid into the front seat and started the car. He backed out of the garage and closed the door, turning to face the gates as they creaked open for them.

Dick stared out the window as they navigated the streets, not giving much thought as to where they were going until he started to recognize the familiar streets that led to the less affluent suburbs on the outskirts of Gotham’s main city.

“Um, Alfred?” Dick asked.

“What is it, Master Dick?” Alfred asked.

“Where exactly is it you’re taking me?” he asked.

“I’m taking you where I think you need to be,” Alfred answered cryptically.

Dick froze as Alfred turned down the next street.

“Alfred are you taking me to Wally’s house?” he cried, sitting forward.

“Of course, Master Dick. Where else would I be taking you?” he chided, slowing the car to a stop at the curb in front of Wally’s house.

“But Wally doesn’t want to see me,” Dick muttered, pressing himself back against the seat as Alfred walked around the side of the car and pulled the door open.

“Why, I think you’re being rather ridiculous Master Dick. Of course your best friend would want to see you. It would make him feel better after a rather eventful practice. Now out you,” he said, waving him from the car.

Dick carefully unclipped his seatbelt, keeping his eyes on Alfred as he slid to the open door. He hesitated before climbing out, but Alfred waited patiently, shutting the door behind him.

Alfred placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder and guided him up onto the path that led to the front door. Dick winced when the wood of the porch creaked and groaned under their feet.

Alfred raised his hand and rapped on the door.

Several moments passed and Dick almost thought the door would go unanswered, but Barry pulled it open with a grin.

“Al, so nice to see you,” he said with a grin. “I really appreciated your call earlier and I’m glad you could stop by.”

Dick frowned and glanced up at Alfred.

“Dick, you can head on up to Wally’s room. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to see you here. He’s been in a bit of a funk since he got home. Alfred, would you like to come into the kitchen? Iris was making some cookies and I’m sure she’d love to have someone like you on hand to help out,” he said with a chuckle.

“Of course, Master Barry. I wouldn’t mind in the least.”

Barry chuckled and stepped to the side. Alfred nudged Dick over the threshold and gave him a pat on the back. Barry shut the door and they disappeared around the corner, leaving Dick at the foot of the staircase.

He glanced up the stairs, the second floor silent. He swallowed and placed a foot on the first stair, glad when it didn’t make noise. He took a deep breath, knowing it was too late to run. He just hoped Wally wouldn’t throw him out on sight.

Wally’s room was uncharacteristically quiet as he approached. Normally, Wally had some music or a show playing or was making some noise since he could rarely stay still, but it wasn’t until Dick was at Wally’s cracked doorway that he heard him muttering under his breath.

He couldn’t make out the words, but Wally didn’t sound happy.

Dick raised his fist and knocked on the doorframe, listening as the muttering stopped.

Wally huffed and the springs of his bed creaked. “Barry, I already told you that I don’t want any-”

His protest died when he pulled the door open and came face to face with Dick. He blinked and Dick smiled, feeling sheepish and small.

“Hi,” he said, giving Wally a little wave.

“Dick,” he breathed, staring at him. He shook himself. “I mean, hey, hi, hello, what’s up? What are-what are you doing here?” he asked with a small chuckle, his cheeks turning pink.

“Alfred brought me and has abandoned me in favor of making cookies with Iris. Are you busy? I’m not bothering you, am I?” Dick started to take a step back, ready to go back downstairs and tell Alfred it was hopeless.

“No!” he said, shaking his head. He cleared his throat. “No, you’re not. I was just trying to read for one of my classes, but-”

“But’s it’s the last thing you want to be doing,” Dick said with a smile.

“Kinda, yeah,” Wally said with a shrug.

“Are you feeling okay after the whole…” Dick waved at his face.

“Yeah, I feel fine. Great even. I’m ready to lace my shoes back up and get ready for our first meet. Do you want to come in?” he asked, realizing they were still standing in the hallway.

Dick nodded and slipped past, throwing himself into one of the beanbag chairs in Wally’s room. Wally fell into the other one, sighing as it wrapped him in a hug.

“Feel like playing some video games?” Wally murmured, eyes still shut.

“I mean sure, but it’ll be easier than usual to beat you if you’re going to play like that,” Dick said, sitting forward to press the power on the game console. He grabbed the controllers and tossed one to Wally who caught it easily.

“Don’t think you’re going to beat me this time,” Wally said, sitting forward to brace his elbows on his knees.

“You say that every time and what happens? I beat you.” Dick crossed his legs on the chair underneath him, sitting up taller to hold his controller in his lap.

“We’re still going to Jason’s soccer game later this week, right?” Wally asked, clicking through the menu options they’d long ago memorized.

“Of course,” Dick scoffed, watching as the screen faded to black before opening on their first battle arena. “We can’t not go to his game. Besides, Tim is going to be there and we have to catch him drooling over Jason in his uniform at least once.”

Wally chuckled. “We don’t have to go to a game for that. He drools over him practically every day.”

Dick snickered, making his character jump over Wally’s as he tried to attack him first. He used the control expertly, making his character spin and bring their sword down on Wally’s head.

“You’re right about that. But I’m hoping one of these days we can convince them that they really should date.”

“How about this?” Wally asked, tongue sticking out as he concentrated on countering each of Dick’s moves. “If they don’t get their shit together by prom, we stage an elaborate flash mob in the school to get them together as dates.”

Dick grinned, sneaking in under Wally’s defenses to take another swipe at him and lower his health bar. “I think that’s a great idea. I would counter that with we should do that in time for Homecoming, but I’d like to give them a little more credit than just October.”

Wally snorted. “They’ve gone how many years already without realizing they’re basically in love with each other?”

Dick shrugged, bringing his sword down on Wally’s head to take the last of his HP for the winning strike.

“Oh come on!” Wally whined.

Dick cackled. “I told you, you can’t beat me.”

“We’ll see about that,” Wally promised, pointing a nonthreatening finger in his direction as the screen shifted to the next round.

If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

[somestorywriter]

for the prompt thing, hrrrrr, it's so hard to choose, I want all of them. um, 23? with rochoo??

Well, what’s stopping you ;)

23. “You have a picture of me? On your fridge?”

Yao rubbed his cold hands together. How could it be so cold even with the sun shining? And how could he tactfully ask Ivan to turn the heating up to a reasonable temperature? He promised himself to buy ridiculously warm clothes just for his visits to Russia. Fashion be damned.

Ivan hummed while he poured the tea. “Are you warmed through?”

“Not yet. But being inside does help.”

“It’s not that cold today.”

Yao raised an eyebrow and watched Ivan move around in the kitchen in his t-shirt. He shuddered and pulled his vest tighter around him.

Ivan put the big cups with tea down on the kitchen table. “I think our bosses will be pleased that we could meet on such short notice.”

Yao rubbed his hands again and Ivan wrapped them in his own. “They really are cold.” He blew against them, his lips touching Yao’s fingertips briefly.

Such contact was nothing strange between them. During the Cold War they had turned each other inside out, and even in present times, they knew the way to each other’s beds.

“Better keep those warm,” Ivan said, putting Yao’s hands around the cup.

“Maybe you should try to keep this house warm.”

“The house is warm enough, if you’re cold then we should warm your body up.”

“Thanks for the offer, but not today.”

Ivan opened the fridge and took out a bottle of vodka. He poured a generous amount in his own cup. “You too?”

“No thanks.”

He put the bottle back and when he closed the fridge door, Yao noticed the image that was stuck to it with a magnet. “…Is that the picture from my World Meeting ID?”

“Mm?”

Yao got up and walked to the fridge. Yes, that was his official picture. A plain grey backdrop, no smile allowed. The most boring picture of him in existence. Not only that, but it was enlarged many times. “You have a picture of me? On your fridge?”

“Oh!” Ivan’s face turned red. “I can explain.”

“Did you take a picture of my ID, crop it down to my face, and then put up?”

“It’s for America.”

“…You have three seconds to explain before I grab my frying pan.”

Ivan grabbed the bottle of vodka again. “I was at America’s place and he has lots of pictures of his friends on his fridge. He has one with Gilbert, and with Francis, and even with you. Although you didn’t look too happy on that one…” He opened the bottle to take a sip.

“So? You decided to redecorate with my picture?”

“I just want America to think I’m cool, and that I have friends. I looked up some pictures with my sisters, and with Latvia and Estonia and Lithuania… But those are all old and yellow. America would never believe it. This picture of you… is the only modern picture I have.”

Yao took the picture down. “This is not how to do it. Come on, I’ll show you how selfies are done.” He took the vodka bottle from Ivan and put it back in the fridge.

“You’re going to give me a picture of you?”

“Of us both. And we’re going to look happy, and radiant, and that America boy is going to eat his heart out.”

Ivan excitedly took out his phone. “I’m going to have lots of pictures with Yao-Yao!”

“Not lots. Only put up two. You don’t want to seem desperate.” He looked around. “There, by the window.”

Ivan sat down in the chair by the window and Yao pulled up a chair next to him. “Put your phone away, mine’s better.”

Ivan discarded his phone and straightened his clothes. “Should I change into something else?”

“No need.” He tussled Ivan’s hair a bit. “It needs to look spontaneous, like a screenshot in the middle of our lives.”

Ivan nearly bounced up and down in his seat.

Yao redid his ponytail and raised his phone. “Get ready to shine.”

Ivan looked at himself on the screen. He tried an awkward smile.

“Relax. You don’t need to impress anyone.”

He tried to keep a neutral face. Yao, on the other hand, had transformed into something else. He leaned slightly against Ivan, his expression careless, yet alluring. It reminded Ivan of a model looking effortlessly gorgeous. “You’re good at this.”

“I do it a lot. Now, try to look at me.”

Ivan moved his gaze to Yao. Yao looked up at him, his eyes smoldering. Or, that was how Ivan saw it. “Ivan, imagine that the camera isn’t there. How do you normally look at me when we’re together?”

Ivan felt his face soften, his shoulders loosening up. He imagined that it was one of those nights when Yao stayed over for dinner and they grew closer over a glass of vodka, speaking softly due to their proximity, the air heavy with an unspoken want. There was really only one way for those nights to end.

“Let’s see what we’ve got.” Yao pulled up the pictures he’d taken during Ivan’s daydream. Ivan was surprised by how different he looked, eyes fixed on Yao’s lips, resembling one of those guys in a perfume commercial, about to have really hot—

“It’s a start. Now, imagine that we’re having a good time.”

“…Aren’t we having a good time?”

“Yes, but… Remember that time during Chinese New Year? How big your eyes were when you looked at all the fireworks?”

“How can I forget?”

“Imagine we’re there again. And imagine we want to show everyone how happy we are.”

Ivan looked into the camera with a big doofus smile.

“Don’t let people know that you’re trying to convince them.”

He smiled even wider.

“No, just… Don’t try so hard. You are the happiest person on earth and everyone can only wish they were you.”

Ivan’s big smile shrunk into a more modest one.

“Not just that, but we need to make our chemistry work too. So… Think of how you’re the only one to have me.”

Now, that did the trick. Ivan’s smile turned into a smug grin and he rested his head against Yao’s, pulling him close. No one could have Yao. Only he knew the true bliss of having him. Others could dream. Oh, they dreamed. They all looked and talked and imagined. But only Ivan could have the real thing.

“That’s it.” Yao looked up at Ivan, lips slightly parted, a longing look in his eyes. It only made the fire in Ivan grow hotter. He leaned forward and captured Yao’s lips. Yao cupped Ivan’s face with one hand, and later Ivan returned the gesture. They moved closer until they threatened to end up in each other’s lap.

Yao broke the kiss first, moving back slowly, looking at Ivan with those smoldering eyes of his. “Now there’s just one more picture to take…”

Alfred played with a fold in the tablecloth. “So, let’s talk.”

Ivan put the cups of tea down. “Let’s start with the notes your leaders made.”

Alfred reached over to grab the papers when he noticed the pictures on the fridge. “Dude…”

“Mm?”

“I didn’t know that you and Yao…”

“That we what?”

He nodded to the pictures.

Ivan had trouble suppressing a smirk. Yao had chosen the two pictures which were currently on display. One of them showed the two of them looking into the camera, smug and happy. The other one was Yao on his own, taken by Ivan. Yao wasn’t looking at the camera but at Ivan, relaxed and smiling, looking as if he was in the middle of a happy conversation and laughing about something, in love with the person behind the phone.

“Yao-Yao always looks so good in pictures, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but… Say, do you have any of those cookies?”

“Oh! The ones you had last time?”

“Yes, I did love them.” Alfred was already slipping his phone from his pocket.

“I’ll be right back!”

Alfred quickly took a picture of the fridge and sent it to some other nations. This was the kind of gossip he lived for.

Ivan came back with a plate of cookies. Alfred put his phone away and took a generous bite from one of the rock-hard cookies, his teeth fighting for their lives. “Juicy.”

[static-ink-blog]

Batmom Origin Part 3: The Word

A/N: This is the last installment in this series and was requested by anon. I have no idea how it had gotten this long, I did rewrite it a few times, but I had fun writing it. Hope you like it.

Tagging: @doctorwhoandrory and @tgwltw

Part 1 Part 2

    Light tickled your nose. Rolling around you faced the warm next to you in bed. You cuddled into it as you tried going back to sleep, but you were already too awake to do so. Making a face you blinked your eyes open. Your eyes focused and you looked up from the bare chest right in front of you to the man's face. Bruce's eyes were closed, his face was relaxed. His arms were around you, holding you close while still leaving you a tiny bit of space to move.     You smiled as you watched his face. Studying his face you soaked in the moment, feeling like you could stay here in this bed with him forever. A sigh escaped you and you closed your eyes in content. When you opened them again he was grinning, his eyes closed all the while. "How long have you been up?" you asked as you laid your head on the pillow next to his.     His grin twitched and Bruce opened one eye. "Did I wake you?" he asked. You shook your head and he hummed in return. He pulled you close, tugging your head under his chin. One of his hands reached up to move through your hair. Shaking your head at his antics you raised your head and kissed him. Bruce was all to eager to return it, deepening it as he rolled over to hover over you.     Your hands came up to cup his face, but he caught you right hand before it could do so. Stopping he separated from your lips to look at it with something akin to wonder and love. At your finger was a silver ring with a diamond engraved in it. He kissed it, looking in your eyes. "I still can't believe you said yes." he admitted.     "I can't believe you were worried I would ever leave you." you said, a huge smile on your face. Nearly a week had passed, but it was still a bit surreal. Bruce had asked you in the garden. You didn't believe there had been a moment in your life where you had been happier. The feeling had lingered ever since and you couldn't believe your luck. Your smile was returned by your fiance.     Only slowly you two got up, mainly because Bruce kept on pulling you back into bed and ask for five more minutes. Neither of you really wanted to get up, but you had to. It was nearly noon when you finally got dressed. Sure enough you met Alfred in the hallway, having been on his way to retire you. "Good afternoon." he greeted you with a knowing smile. "Glad to see you back under the living." He reminded you of the charity gala later tonight and left you give you some alone time.     Shaking your heads, Bruce and you headed down in the kitchen. You were no longer surprised to find breakfast plates waiting like you had been at the beginning of your relationship with Bruce. Later you went to the library. Sitting together you in the large armchair you read a while till Dick came home. The boy, now thirteen years old, had grinned when you asked how his day had been, soaking up your attention as he gave you a detailed answer about the happenings at Gotham Academy. Alfred watched the three of you with a smile, feeling his heart melt on the sight of how happy this family had become.     Yet before long it was time, and Alfred send you up to change for the gala. You didn't look forward to interacting with the 'high society' and you weren't the only one to do so. Bruce didn't say a word but rolled his eyes a bit, which he got a stern glance from Alfred from. Dick tried a bit harder. "So, I don't really have to show up there, right?" he turned to you with an innocent look on his face. "We can just say I'm sick. Then I could stay here. Please? Batmom, please?"     Laughing a little you shook your head. "Except that we already did that last time." you reminded him. He made face and laid an arm around him. "Besides what am I supposed to do without you there?" you added conspiratorial. "You know I would be completely lost."      Dick raised an eyebrow at you. He knew you would be fine on your own. Then he grinned. "Are we going to make a big escape after right the met and greet." he leaned in to ask. You couldn't deny it would be tempting. Unfortunately Alfred heard him and started scolling both of you on how important connections were.

   Boring. This about summed up this gala. Only the thought that this was for charity made the fake smile remain on you face as you and Bruce talked to several other millionaires. Dick stayed glued to your side, throwing you pleading looks whenever he thought nobody was looking. There were are lot of congratulations for your engagement and every second person you met wanted to know when the wedding was. All you could think of was how you did not want to invite them.     At one point some of the ladies had dragged you off you had lost your boys in the crowd. It took a while till you found an opening allowing you to excuse yourself without seeming rude. Maneuvering through the room you kept on being interrupted by different people. Finally you decided you needed a break. The second the coast was clear you slipped into the gardens. Away from all those people you were able to breath.     Here the gardens were mostly deserted. A cold breeze was blowing through the night and felt nice against your skin. Leaving the sound of the gala behind you wandered a bit. You knew you would have to return soon, but for now you allowed yourself a few moments of quiet.     Suddenly a figure threw themselves at you. Catwoman took you by surprise, pinning you to a tree. Her hand held your throat, her claws digging painfully into your skin, but not breaking it. You starred at her shocked by her appearance but at the same time understanding that she didn't want to hurt you. If she would have wanted that she would already done so. Frowning you scowled yourself for having let your guard down enough that she had been able to caught you off-guard in the first place.     "Too easy." Selina commented on top of that. She studied your face for a moment then gave you a playful grin. "You aren't getting soft on me, are you?" Her voice was mocking, but her eyes were serious. They searched your eyes, before turning to your surroundings and finally back to you.     You realized that she was expecting someone to show up. And in the first place you didn't expect her to show up for small talk. Not here, not in full costume. Straightening up you gave her a cold glare. Dick once called it your bat-glare, but you pushed the thought from your mind at the moment. Selina smiled at your reaction and let go of you. "Good to know." she mocked as took a few steps back and crossed her arms. "You'll need it. Now more than ever."     "And why would that be?" you  questioned. You didn't trust the Catwoman, you had never really gotten along. She was a thief, you a cop, so you had been off to a bad start from the beginning. Then she fell for Batman and you would lie if you were to say you didn't got jealous from time to time. But she wasn’t all bad and you respected that in her.     "Oh, I don't know." Selina inspected her claws. "Maybe two-million dollars." Her eyes focused on you. "Two-million, put up for your head." Subconsciously she checked her surroundings. It was part of why you believed her claim. The other was the look in her eyes.     "The underworld would be all over a job like that." you brought up your only doubt. That amount would any wanna-be try to get a piece of you, and most of the underworld didn't like you in the first place. Word would be all over the city. Yet in the last few weeks there hadn't been a whisper of it on the streets.     "Believe me, they are." the other woman rolled her eyes. "News arrived only a few hours ago." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her posture was relaxed, unless you counted that her eyes were always moving you wouldn't guess how she really felt. "Of course this is spreading like a wild fire. Can't be long now."     "Who is the client?" you asked. Suddenly being out here didn't seem like such a smart idea anymore. You could hold your own, but you had no weapons on you and that gave you a limited defense. Your mind flashed to Bruce and Dick, knowing you had to warn them and leave the gala immediately, both to prepare and to not lure any idiots here. And you had to call Gordon to sent out a warning, you didn't want any of your female colleges shot because they were mistaken for you simple for wearing the same uniform.     Selina rose an eyebrow. "Who did you piss off that has that much money?" she asked. That alone didn't give you an answer, but then she looked at the ring on your hand and your eyes widened. "Officially the job came from the League of Shadows."     "Thalia Al Ghul." you realized. You never met the woman, but you knew about her. Bruce had told you about the assassin that had declared that she loved him. "The League of Shadows doesn't need help assassinating people." If Thalia was crazy enough to put a prize on your head over your engagement, you couldn't imagine her leaving it to street gangs. No, she would sent her own people to be sure the job got done. "It's a distraction. To keep Batman busy and out of the way."     "That woman is crazy, if you ask me." Catwoman agreed. Now that she had delivered her warning she turned to leave. "You better watch your step from here on. It's not my problem."     "Wait." you stopped her. She turned to look over her shoulder at you and raised an eyebrow. "Why warn me?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at her. "You had no reason to do so." And she clearly didn't want to be mixed up in this.      She sighed. "You mean because we want the same man?" she asked back. Selina would never admit how over the years of fighting you she came to respect in a way. "If he chooses me in the end I don't want it to be because you are dead." she said instead, knowing full well how unlikely that was to happen. Walking  away from you she didn't look back to see your reaction. Just in front of the wall she stopped. "Y/n." she hesitated, not turning around. "Be good to him."      Jumped over the wall she disappeared. You looked after her for a second, before you sprang into action. On the way back to the Gala you called Alfred, telling him to pick up up right away. Finding Bruce, you made up a excuse that you had to go home right away. Confused your fiance looked at you, knowing it was a lie. He must have caught something in your eyes as his eyes sharpened.     Together you quickly found Dick and went outside where Alfred was waiting in the car. "Y/n, what's wrong?" Bruce demanded as soon as you were inside. He was worried. You had hid it well from the others, but he knew the look in your eye. The one that said something real bad just happened.     Meanwhile you were already on the phone. You looked at him as you talked both to him and Gordon on the other side of the line. "I just had a run-in with Catwoman." you explained. "The League of Shadows has put a prize on my head."     Color drained from Bruce's face before the Batman took over. Dick whispered a small 'no' and starred at you. In the rear mirror you could see Alfred's eyes widening as he froze for a second. Grimly you nodded.

    In the next days you were never alone. "I'm starting to crawl up the walls." you told Gordon over the phone. He was on loudspeaker in the cave. This allowed you to keep typing away on the bat-computer. You were searching the city virtually for  any signs of the League-Assassins, working from what you found in the file Bruce had about them. So far you had no luck. It drove you crazy knowing that Batman and Robin were out there right now, searching themselves for the same thing. This was other than the other times, this time they were in danger because of you.     "I'm not putting you back on duty." Gordon sighed over the loudspeaker. "That would presenting you on a silver tray and I'm not doing it. Listen, I know you hate doing nothing, but right now the best thing you can do is to stay put. We are working as fast as we can, and we got the Bat on the case."      You sighed, you knew that. "Ellen is in the hospital because a druggie thought I was her." you reminded him, glaring at the display. It had been just as you had feared. "They are after me. Jim, you can't just keep me out of this. I have a right to be on this case. When they put a target on my head they not only put it on me but also on all those close to me. My friends, my family."      "Y/n..." Jim sounded tired. You knew he was pulling over time on this case, you had noticed the bags under his eyes when he come over to the manor to check on you. "I know it is hard. But please just try to stay safe. What does Bruce say to you wanting back on the case?"     He didn't like. Sitting back in the chair you ran a hand through your hair. Bruce was overprotective at the moment. And while he had all the reason to, you hated just sitting here. Your eyes went to the girl sitting on the table next to you. Batgirl hadn't said anything as she didn't want her father recognize her voice, but  she was watching you closely. You tried to give her a reassuring smile but you weren't feeling it at the moment.     Jim took your silence as an answer. "See?" he asked. "Y/n, think about your family and stay safe. I'm going to do everything I can to get this off your back, but you have to be patient. Stay put."     It was your family you were thinking about. But that was something you couldn't tell Gordon. You nodded you head in defeat. "Alright..." you gave  in, hating doing so. A relived sigh came over the loudspeaker and you shot them a short glare. "But you better watch your back while you are out there."     Gordon chuckled and insured you he would before hanging up. You looked at Barbara. Deep down you knew Jim would kill you would he know his little girl was involved in this. Having seen her in action you knew she could handle herself, but this was big and you hated getting her involved. She crossed her arms at first, then her face softened and she put her hands back on her side. "We are doing to catch them soon." she tried, not sure what would be the right thing to say.     Nodding you smiled. "We will." you agreed. But in reality you weren't that sure. All you knew was that it had to end soon or you would go crazy.     Engine sounds made you look up and see Batwoman come through the entrance on her motorcycle. Kate and you meet some years back and had been close ever since. She had gotten word of the bounty on your head and had come here right away. Throwing you a smile she got off and joined you. "Anything yet?" she asked. Giving you an once over, she raised an eyebrow and gave  your shoulder a light punch. "Ease up, we're nothing going to let them get past us."     "Quiet right." Alfred appeared out of nowhere. He was carrying a tray of his famous sandwiches and some drinks. Kate's eyes lit up at the sight of food and Barbara snatched herself one of the drinks right away. Looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes the butler handed you an cup of coffee. "The masters have faced dangerous odds in the past. They are capable of protecting themselves, you wouldn't need to worry. Everyone here is."     Taking the cup you gave him a thankful smile. You knew he worried himself, but he was also right. Bruce and Dick faced the League of Shadows before. Looking down at your coffee you told yourself that you had to believe your fiance and son would be safe. They had to.     The hours ticked by. Kate and Barbara stayed with you and helped your virtual city search. Finally the batcar arrived. Jumping out Batman immediately called for Alfred. Feeling the blood in your veins freeze you ran to the car, where Bruce was carefully gathering Dick up in his arms. You starred at your bird, who hissed under his breath as he was moved. "I can walk." he complained weakly. His voice was barely more than a whisper.     "No." Bruce disagreed, his voice masked. "You're still weak from the poison." He looked up when you stepped next to them, then looked away from your painted eyes. The boy had been stabbed. Of course Bruce had been able to stop the bleeding and as well as give him the anti-poison, but there had been a moment he had been scared he would have lost him. You didn't stop him when he took Dick to the medical bay, laying him on the table there. Alfred went to work right away.     Sitting next your bird you took his hand, making him look at you. "I'm going to be fine, Batmom." he told you. You nodded and did your best to smile since you didn't want him to worry. While Alfred worked you kept your eyes on Dick. Bruce stood behind you, watching his old friend patch up his son. With one hand he reached out and squeezed your shoulder.     Dick grinned at you but winced a little when Alfred touched his wound. Batman told everyone how they had found Thalia's hideout and how her men had surprised them. When Robin got hurt they had to retreat, all they had was a phone they had found previous to the battle. By now they could be anywhere. Kate started demanding why they hadn't called for back-up, Barbara agreeing wholeheartedly with her.    You frowned as you listened to them, squeezing Dick's hand. This was your fault. Thalia was after you and your family was getting hurt trying to protect you. Because of you. "Batmom?" your bird called out for you, but you didn't react. Frowning he bit his lips. "Mom?"     Surprised you looked at him. This was the first time he had called you Mom. A smile, a real one, appeared on your face. "Yes, bird?" you asked.     "Don’t worry so much." he told you. "I had worse. We are going to  be fine. Big B and I got a plan. This is going to be over soon. You'll be safe." He wouldn't lose you. Dick didn't think that he could handle losing his mother a second time, he was going to do anything to keep you safe and he knew that Bruce was feeling the same.     "We're getting through this." Bruce agreed, turning to you. There was so much love in his eyes. He brushed a tear away you hadn't known you had been crying and kissed your cheek. His eyes searched yours, trying to reassure you.     Not saying anything you didn't disagree as you held his glance. But you knew Thalia wouldn't stop. You stayed with Dick as Alfred finished. He told you the boy was out of danger and only needed rest. Yet that wasn't true, as long as that woman wanted you dead your family would continue being in danger. Slowly Kate and Alfred left to run scans on the mobile phone Batman and Robin had brought with them. Bruce stayed with you, watching over both of you, till Barbara came back telling him that they had found something. He kissed your forehead before leaving, letting Batgirl stay behind.     By that time Dick was sleeping. You were still holding his hand. Your eyes hardened when you made a decision. It might be stupid, but you refused to do nothing as your family got hurt. "Barbara, would you mind staying with him?" you asked getting a blanket out of the cabinet. Gentle you tucked your bird in. You looked at the girl next to you. "I have to talk with Bruce for a moment and don't want him to be alone when he wakes up."     She nodded and you went to the front of the batcave. Bruce and Kate were comparing the information they had downloaded from the phone on the big screen. You glanced at it as you came up behind them. Then you turned to Bruce. "Dick said you had a plan." you started.     Looking up Bruce nodded. "Not much of one, but it could be a way to stop this all and I am willen to try it." he said. "We found proof that Ra's doesn't approve his daughter's action. If we  can convince him that it wouldn't be a good idea to wag war against me he will order her back."     "But he didn't stop her till now." You moved next to him and looked into his face. "There was no guarantee that he would strike a deal with you -or what he would have asked in return. It can even be that he would call Thalia back but let the bounty up."     Bruce frowned. It was a possibility. "No, Ra's doesn't do things half-assed." he said. "We convince him and he will take the bounty down. The only question is how to convince him." He glared at the file pictures of Ra's and Thalia on his screen trying to come up with a way to do so.     "The Al Ghuls have to respect strength." you thought slowly, an idea beginning to form. "It is how both their reputation and their position in their League is build. If they were to fail and another to succeed on the same job it would result in possible clients and their subordinate questioning their abilities to get future jobs done or lead a group of assassin. That means if we  defeat their best in a way that everybody knows it they can't afford continuing painting an target on my head."     "Which means  all we have to is to find them." Kate concluded crossing her arms. "Some nice reports on the news as they are on their way to jail should do the trick." Of course that would be the hard part. Bruce pursed his lips in thought.     Looking up at the screen you hesitated. "There would be one way that would be sure to lure her out." you started. Taking a deep breath you told them your plan. While there were many risk to it you were sure it would work.     Shocked at your plan Bruce jumped out of his chair and grabbed your arms. His eyes were pleading with you. Kate's eyes widened and her hands fell to her side. As she ran over what you had said in her again her face became unreadable. "You can't mean that." Alfred came up from behind you. "It is simply too-"     You cut him off with a stern glance. "Yes, I do mean it. Else I wouldn't have come up with this." Turning to Bruce you held his glance. "This was the one sure method to lure her out. Even you could need weeks to find her. Bruce, they nearly killed Dick tonight. We don't have weeks, and I refuse to let what happened tonight be repeated the next time you meet. While you might not like this plan, it does allow us to find her -and meet her on our terms."     "Don't." he asked. "Don't ask this of me. Not this." Bruce couldn't do this, he couldn't risk losing you like this. Shaken he pulled you into a hug. "We figure something else out. There are other ways. Just let me protect you." Your plan was crazy.      "Stop." you told him. "Don't ask me to sit at home and do nothing while you get hurt." You moved back a bit so you could look into his eyes. "There is no way I could let any of you die for me."

    Thalia was given out orders to set  up the new base when one of her men approached her with his ringing phone. The reason he did so was because the caller ID showed her number. Thing was batman had her phone. Smiling she shooed the man away as she took the phone from him. "Beloved, so nice of you to call." she picked up.     "Wrong." a female voice stated. Thalia could hear the smirk in your voice. Her face darkened as she realized it had to bee you. "You went through a lot of trouble to send a stranger a message, so I thought I say hello."     Thalia laughed at you. "Is that so?" she asked leaning back in her chair. "I put money on your head and you decide to say hello? You are either very brave or very stupid, and I'm afraid it is more of the later. It is beyond me to understand why Beloved fanicies someone like you."     "Well, what can I say? I guess there is a reason why I'm the one with the ring." She didn't answer you, so you continued. "That irks you, doesn't it? But what I don't understand is why spend money to get me killed. Weren't you the heir of an large assassin group?" You paused. "Don't tell me you are scared of little old me?"     "If that is what you really think you are ignorant." the assassin said. She could smell the bait. But you were wrong if you thought you could get away with it. Thalia happened to know for a fact that her Beloved would never let you go through with your plan. And meant you were on your own. "You are just dying to meet me, hmm? Alright, I think I can make some place in my schedule." She stopped for a moment. "Where?"     "Under one condition." you interrupted her eagerness. It amused her to think that you believed you could set the rules for your meeting, but she decided to humor you. After all she had no reason to keep to them. "Should I win you will take the bounty down and stay away from my family."     "I will always stay just as far away from Beloved as he stays away from me." Thalia chuckled self-assured. "But I can promise you that after tonight the bounty comes down. And don't worry I come alone." There was no way a little cop like you could survive a confrontation with her. So there would be no reason to have the bounty up afterwards anymore.     You were quiet for a long time. Thalia started thinking you were backing out and she wouldn't have been surprised if you did. Even you should be aware of what would happen to you when you meet. "The White Apple." you finally said and hung up right away. Looking at the phone the assassin laughed. She had known hurting Robin would draw you out.

   White Apple was the name of an old hotel. Once it had been one of the most glamours ones in Gotham. Today it stood abandoned. The wallpaper was peeling off and the roof had given way in some places. The building was scheduled to be torn down in the morning, but right now it was given you exactly what you needed. Light fell through the hole in the roof over the lobby and the windows, enough for you to see everything as you hid in the shadows.     It was a good thing you did as you saw Thalia enter through the second floor. She seemed surprised that you weren't waiting in the plain open. You kept an eye on her as you looked around to see if she had brought some of your henchmen. Just because you didn't see any didn't mean they wouldn't be around and you gave no worth to her word. Sure of herself as she was Thalia moved into the middle of the room. "Come out." she called, crossing her arms. "Or were you to scared to show up."     Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes for a second before letting your plan set in motion. Jumping from your perch you let yourself drop a few feet in front of her. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw what you were wearing and you couldn't help but smile. Your outfit had been a joke-present from Dick and Alfred for your and Bruce's anniversary years ago, not so long after the Batmom-name had come up. You had been never been meant to wear it, but they hadn't been ones for a half-baked job, so it was fully functional. It was a duplicate of the Batman-costume, identical save for the adjustment for your measures. Even the intercom had been online.     Raising to stand straight you faced your opponent. Thalia saw your smile and her shock turned into anger. "You dare step in front of me, wearing my Beloved's colors?!" she growled. Good, you wanted her angry. "I will teach you for your impertinence! For that alone I shall make your death painful, wench!"     You watched her, your muscle tense under your cape to react in a moment's notice. Making her mad gave you an advantage, but it was also dangerous. "It is Batmom." you said. Your message stood clear in the room and it was like a red flag for the other woman. "Don't worry. I don't expect you to get it."     She ground her teeth in anger and attacked. Yanking one arm up you shot your grappling hook while throwing a batarang at the wall. Hitting the switch electricity shot to the metal net between debris on the ground. It would have barely shocked her but she didn't know that and jumped back. You flung yourself at her, punching her in the face.     Unfortunately she recovered quickly, kicking your legs from under you. You managed to flip around and back to your feet. But Thalia was right on you. The fact that she was angry and made mistakes was the only reason you were able to keep up with her. She was unable to lay a hit on you, but so were you.      Suddenly Thalia jumped back. Sensing her move you ran behind a pillar. Taking cover just in time you escaped her bullets. You couldn't fight a gun head on. Removing your explosive you threw them at the inside balcony for second floor over your head. As the stone collapsed you ran forward into the door diagonal across from you while Thalia was forced to halt her fire to avoid getting hid.     In the settling dust she glared at the door you had disappeared through. Two men stepped next to her. One being Deadshot and the other being the Hook. "She's a slippery thing." Deadshot commented, leaning his unsheathed blade over his shoulders. "You sure you don't want any help?"     "Nothing I could not handle." Thalia waved off, moving forward with her gun at the ready. The other two assassin said nothing, they did what they were paid to do. They had come just in case the Batman showed up, but sent the rest of the man home.     Meanwhile Thalia was moving through an opening in the wall of the room you had escaped in and entered a hallway. She smiled when she saw a trail of red spots on the floor and started following them. They lead her to a dark room with barred windows. In it's center a figure was crouching on the floor, their back to the door and the cape unmistakable. Her grin widened and she carefully snuck closer. "Seems your luck ran out." she mocked pointing the gun at the back of their head.     Spinning around the figure got a grip on her gun and in on fluent motion broke her wrist and kicked her in the stomach. She fell to the ground. Rolling back to her feet Thalia looked up. Shook spread on her face when she realized who this really was. Batman glared at her, his fists clenching. "Beloved?" she asked confused.      A tip on the shoulder made her turn around. You punched her straight into the face before round-kicking her into the wall. That nickname was really starting to piss you off. Satisfied you looked her over and nodded. She would stay knocked out for a while. Turning you faced your fiance. Anger was rolling off him in waves. "I still don't like this." he let you know as he checked over you for any sigh of injury. It had been hard to stay hidden when  he had heard the gunfire and explosion.     Smiling you kissed him. "Thanks for trusting me." you said. It meant a lot that he had agreed to this plan and let you face Thalia on your own, knowing it had been the last thing he had wanted. But you were a team and you would protect your family together.     Not taking his eyes off you Bruce nodded. Over the intercom he called Batwoman who reported that Hook and Deadshot had separated. Deadshot had gone in one of rooms on second floor, while Hook had stayed downstairs and was at the moment making a little nap after making acquaintance with her fist. "I'm going after Deadshot." Bruce told you.     "Stay safe." you warned him and took a step back. You didn't like letting him go alone, but you know that it was  something he had to so. It was part of the man you had fallen in love with and you wouldn't change him. Bruce grinned and leaned close to kiss your forehead before he left. In the silence after you pulled your cowl back and looked at Thalia. "You know what?" you told the unconscious woman as you handcuffed her. "I hate your guts."     Quickly you took off the cape, belt and gloves and stuffed them in the bag you had laying next to the tubes of fake blood you had used for your blood trail earlier. Exchanging your top for your uniform blouse your transformation was complete. The belt was great, but you preferred the badge on your chest over the cape any day. It was also easier to explain to the squad team Batgirl just lead through the door.     "I should be taking that badge from you." Gordon glared at you. "I ordered you to not go after them." When you had called saying you were heading for a rendezvous with the woman that had put that bounty on your head he had nearly a heart attack. You were like a sister to him, why did have to do that to him? His eyes studied you for a moment. "You alright?"     "Batman says he has Deadshot." Batgirl gave the new she had gotten over the intercom. Her job had been to get the police safely passed the assassins when they arrived. Dick was at home, recovering with Alfred giving watch that he didn't come after them. He had hated being left behind, even if he could barely stand.     Getting the news that the last present member of the League of Shadows was down, you relaxed. This meant you won and your family was safe. "Never better." you answered Gordon's question. He shook his head at you, wondering what he was supposed to do with you. A few days later you got the news that the bounty on your head had been dropped.

    It was the big day. Bruce Wayne was standing in front of the mirror trying to make his tie, but that thing didn't want like he wanted. Alfred chuckled and stepped next to him. "Let me help you, Bruce." he said and took the tie from him. When he managed get it right at first try, the groom pouted at him.     Dick laughed at him. He had fully recovered and was now sitting on the bed in the room, dressed in a tuxedo. "Someone seems nervous." he commented with a grin. Bruce shot him a soft glare, but the boy's grin only widened. Rolling his eyes the Wayne tried to ignore him and pulled his tuxedo on and turned back to the mirror to make sure it sat right.     "You look fine." Alfred insured you, laying an hand on his shoulder. He looked at their reflection feeling his heart swell with joy. Bruce had grown up to a fine man. "Your parents would be proud if they could see you now." he said, for he knew he was.     Bruce looked at him with glittering eyes. Nodding he smiled. "Thank you, Alfred." he proud out. Looking at the clock he saw it was time. Dick ran ahead as the three left the room.  Alfred left to join you as the other two headed in the garden. The wedding for the media was later this week, this ceremony was only for the close circle of your friends.     The garden was decorated in white roses and ribbons. A white rug lead between the chairs where their friends sat up to a pavilion where the priest was waiting. Clark, who Bruce had asked to be his best man, was standing next to him and grinned at the groom as the later got closer. On the other side of the priest stood Ellen, your bridesmaid. Most of the Justice League and the GCPD were here. Dick joined Jim and Barbara in the first row as Bruce continued his way to stand between the priest and Clark.     Part of him couldn't believe this was really happening. You had been dating for five years, you had seen the worst and the best of him and still stayed by his side. He couldn't help but think he would have never guessed that it would come this far when he had saved you all those years ago. But he wouldn't change a thing. Bruce had never been this happy.     Music started to play. Your guests rose as Bruce looked over to you. You looked breath-taking. A wide smile was on your face and your eyes glittered in joy. Slowly Alfred guided you up to the pavilion, the trail of your dress moving behind you.       Reaching your groom, Alfred shed a tear as he handed you to Bruce. At the priests word the guest sat down, but the two of you had only eyes for each other. "Today we came together bear witness to seeing these two people join hands and set out on the path of marriage." the priest started. "To face life together, no matter what the future brings, good and bad times alike." He turned to the groom. "Bruce Wayne, do you take the here present Y/n Y/l/n as your wife? Do you swear to love them, today and forevermore? To live together and honor them, to keep them close in sickness and health, to never sway from their side till the end of your days?"     "I do." Bruce said. You could see his love for you burning in his eyes.     "And do you, Y/n Y/l/n, take the here present Bruce Wayne as your husband? Do you swear to love them, today and forevermore? To live together and honor him, to keep him close in sickness  and health, to never sway from their side till the end of your days?"     "I do." you answered, holding his hands tight.     "Since you are both willen you may exchange your vows." the priest said and Clark handed Bruce the ring.      "I promise to be there when you need me, to fill your days with sunshine." Bruce swore as he put his ring on your finger. "To comfort you and encourage you, to help you reach your goals. To be your best friend ever and to love you all my life with all my heart." He smiled at the ring on your hand and the meaning behind it. Looking back up in your eyes his heart seemed to burst in joy.      You weren't doing any better. Taking the ring Ellen handed you, you looked back at him, your eyes shining with joy and love. "I promise to be there when you need me, to fill your days with sunshine." you said your vow. "To comfort you and encourage you, to help you reach your goals. To be your best friend ever and to love you all my life with all my heart."     The priest smiled at the pair of you. "I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Bruce and you hadn't to be told twice. This was the happiest day of your life.

.

[nish-e-r-r-o-r-neesh]

Um for that fan fiction thing can I get a family story with America, Canada, England, and Nyo France from hetalia? (Ps can it be human)

Okay, so I’ve never really written FACE family, FrUk or nyotalia so bear with me here XD. 

I hope you like this little fic, pure fluffery and family joy. I had fun writing this, so I hope you have fun reading it too.~ Thanks for the request! Everyone else who requested, you’re still getting your fics, no worries!

____________________________________

“Cookies”

“Alfred, no. Alfred, we are not doing this.”

“Come on, Matt. Mom and Dad would love it.”

“No they would absoloutely not.”

This was terrible. This was a disaster, a mistake. If Matthewhad known this was how things were going to turn out, he wouldn’t have agreedto this. It was too late now—the shaped pieces of dough were in the tray andalready half-baked in the oven. The used bowls and spatulas had been clearedinto the sink and the countertops were ready to be used as decoration-stations.

And Alfred, the idiot that he was, thinking his littleabomination of an idea would be a perfect gift, held the monstrosity of a neon-pinksack of frosting in his arms, ready to be spread out over a perfectly goodbatch of cookies.

“No, Alfred. We are not putting neon-pink on the cookies.”

Matthew knew he shouldn’t have entrusted Alfred with the shopping.

It had been working out pretty well—the dough was fun to prepare and the two went as overboard as possible to their hearts’ content with the chocolate chips. Contrary to popular belief, the brothers worked pretty well as a pair in the kitchen and agreed with almost every culinary matter.

It’s just that Alfred’s taste in pastry decoration was a little more than… unnerving.

Matthew knew his brother tended to decorate any customizable item with the most eye-catching, eye-burning and unappetizing colors possible. Food was no exception. Agreeing to let Alfred do all the shopping, falling for the chance to relax and plan at home, might as well have been the biggest mistake of his life.  

And now, since they only had several tons of neon-colored frosting as means for decoration, Matthew was once again doomed to improvise and make-do with what was available.  

He sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Well, it’s not like we have a choice.”

Alfred immediately lit up and hollered, raising his pink frosting in the air. “YES! The hero wins again!”

“Not quite,” Matthew allowed himself to smile, despite his situation. “We won’t be using all of it. The green looks close enough to Dad’s eyes, although I’m pretty sure they don’t glow like nuclear waste,” he gestured to the rest of the sacks of frosting resting on the countertop. “And the purple gives a well-enough vibe of Mom. We can use the pink in in moderation, but nothing else.”

Alfred seemed to droop a tad, but nevertheless, his “hero” smile remained intact.

“Alright, Mattie!” He raised his sack of frosting once more, declaring, “You can always count on The Hero to do the decorating!”

Matthew was torn between getting a migraine and a panic-attack. “No. I’m doing the decorating, and you set up the dinner table.” He huffed, giving his brother a little pat on the shoulder. Even though any means of offense couldn’t possibly pierce his brother’s thick ego, Matthew was always one to take caution in fear of being too rude—even when it came to Alfred.

Well, Alfred was his brother after all. And, throughout their lives, Matthew had been his shoulder to cry on for countless times that he knew well enough what made his brother tick, and vice-versa.

Setting down his sack of frosting, Alfred nodded. “Alright, Mattie.” He declared. “Don’t worry, you can count on me this time!”  

The oven-timer dinged, alerting the two. Matthew nodded and grabbed for the mittens. “Alright, just try not to turn everything all star-spangled and striped, alright?” Alfred could be a little too much of a patriot at times.

“Well don’t over-maple the cookies, alright?” Alfred retorted, sticking his tongue out in that childish way that only he could seem to pull off. “See ya in the dining room!”

Matthew tried not to stutter back a failed retort as he pulled open the oven.

_______________________________________________

“You think the boys will have something planned?”

Francine glanced up at her husband who struggled to shut the bright blue umbrella he wielded as they stepped onto their porch. It had suddenly started raining halfway through their dinner over at Antonio’s Palace. Unfortunately, neither had thought to bring a decent umbrella before the date, which led to Arthur running back to the car in the rain only to discover a crappy, hole-poked umbrella which their son Alfred, often used for his stunts. It didn’t quite… function… as normal umbrellas would after all it’d been through, but it was either that or being thoroughly soaked in the downpour.

In truth, the umbrella offered rather little protection. Arthur grumbled at its uselessness while Francine argued that it was better than nothing after all.

And now, Arthur struggled to pull the umbrella closed, only to give up half a minute later and throw the damned thing into the gutter.

Francine laughed at this, giving her husband a chaste kiss on the cheek to cheer him up. “Don’t fret, mon cher.” She let out her little tinkle of a laugh she knew he adored. “Let’s go see what the boys have planned for us.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. “How are you so sure that they’ve ‘planned’ something?”

Francine had to laugh at that. It was a little joke they made each year on their anniversary. The day her boys would stop planning little surprises and gifts for them was the day the world ended—she was a hundred percent certain of that. And indeed, it was true. Matthew and Alfred had to be just about the most dedicated children in the world, even at fifteen, Francine could hardly believe them herself.  

Every time an occasion would arise, things were always a matter of ‘what’ rather than ‘if’.

“Why don’t we go find out?” Francine let out another chuckle, taking her husband’s arm. “I’m sure we’ve stood out here for long enough to alert them of our presence.”

She swung the door open and tentatively stepped inside their little home, Arthur in tow. She had expected the lights to be off, concealing a special surprise in darkness, or two pairs of blond heads to jump out screaming Happy Anniversary! But all the couple found was a clump of balloon stuck to the ceiling with cardboard arrows attached to their strings.

Shrugging off their coats and boots, the pair approached the strange clump of balloons in the center of the living room. Upon further inspection, the arrows seemed to be pointing towards the doorway on the far side of the room with the words “GO INTO THE DINING ROOM” written in elegant cursive.

Arthur shrugged, smiling mischievously as he led the way into their designated area.

The sight that greeted the two had Francine nearly tearing up.

A romantic candle-lit dinner had been set up, far better and classier than that of the five-star Antonio’s Palace. Silken sheets over the table, two chairs draped in elegant golden fabrics, candles scattered around the room providing a romantic glow, and a single, blood-red rose resting in a crystal vase as the centerpiece.

As though on cue, the two brothers, both clothed in what looked like pristine and pressed waiter uniforms, strutted out of the kitchen doorway, covered trays in hand.

In complete and perfect sync, the two set their trays on the opposite ends of the table and pulled out the fancy golden chair.

“Please, take a seat,” Alfred bowed, trying in vain not to giggle. Matthew seemed to have a little smirk on, himself.

Chuckling, Arthur humored his boys, leading his Frenchwoman to one end of the table and taking a seat on the opposite her. This was all rather entertaining.

“This evening, we have prepared for you an appetite-filling one-course meal,” Matthew announced, his hand moving in sync with his brother’s to move to the top of the tray covers. “We hope you enjoy you meal. Thank you for dining with us tonight.’

And like a perfectly choreographed ballet, the two pulled their covers up and bowed in the most exaggerated manner possible, revealing just about the most appetizing meal on the planet—homemade cookies.

Francine squealed at the sight, a pile of still-steaming cookies decorated with purple, pink and green. Not a good choice of colors when you thought about it, yet the swirls and simplicity of the designs made them seem simply beautiful.

“You boys have outdone yourselves again!” Arthur declared, shooting the two an excited smile which had them beaming in return.

“Well, we’ve already had dinner, amour, yet suddenly I am hungry again.” Picking up a fork, Francine gave a coy smile, which Arthur was quick to return.

“What do you say? Shall we indulge once more in this,” he gestured to his cookie-filled plate. “Exquisite cuisine?”

The boys couldn’t hold back their giggles.

Francine couldn’t help but chuckle along, nodding her head. “Oui.”

_______________________________

Hope you liked it~! Imma whip up some USUK or Solangelo next. Also stay tuned for the GerIta Tangled story~

[ageeksnerdyworld]

Demonic Studies

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson Bruce Wayne & Alfred Pennyworth

Word Count: 2,440

Trigger Warning: Slight Swearing.

Summary: Unbeknownst to Bruce his youngest son was accepted to a summer study abroad program. Damian, overloaded with work, gives his father the cold shoulder and begins to flat out ignore him. Worried and angry Bruce decides to take matters into his own hands. Inspired by @pentapoda‘s drawing of college-age Damian. Click the Read More if you want.

XXXXX

“He’s studying abroad, sir.”

“Don’t lie to me, Alfred,” he threatened through gritted teeth.

The two men stood in the kitchen; on opposite ends of the room. While his butler was busy cooking an omelet he stood at the kitchen window, in full work attire; white shirt, black dress shoes, and a dark navy suit. He glared out into the bright sun of early morning. Bruce Wayne, billionaire, business mogul, Bat of Gotham, was too old to play these games with his youngest.

Not to mention that his youngest was too old to play these games.

“I would never dream of it, sir,” Alfred said as he plated the omelet.

“You can’t lie to me with one of my own, Alfred,” Bruce continued as he picked up his plate and walked to the table. “I used that exact line on that Carrie Kelly girl years ago.”

“I can assure you I’m not lying to you, sir. Master Damian was accepted to your… Well I can’t necessarily call the Ivy League school your alma mater since you never finished… And well you only went to it’s Gotham City campus and not the actual one.”

“Spit it out, Alfred” Bruce said with a twinge of annoyance.

“Master Damian has been accepted to Yale’s midsummer program at Oxford. I believe he said it was the BADA program. He has been attending for possibly a couple of days, now.”

Bruce’s jaw dropped in surprise and so did the bit of omelet inside his mouth.

“Maybe even a week’s time.”

“Call him.”

Alfred is startled by the request and starts to object to the idea. He tries to say that the boy is most likely in class. Then the aging butler proposes that the long distance call might not work. But his employer won’t hear any of it.

“Call him, Alfred. Now.”

He sighs and takes his phone out of his pocket.

“Phone call or video chat, sir?”

“Video chat.”

XXXXX

Damian loved Oxford. And London. And the entire United Kingdom. There was something about it that he adored but couldn’t quite put his finger on.

But mostly he loved his classes.

Acting appealed to him for many reasons. But the main reason was that he was never himself on stage. Whether he was playing Iago or Puck or Sir John Falstaff one thing was certain. He was never a Robin or a Wayne or an Al-Ghul there and never needed to be. He was nothing even remotely close to who he really was and he loved every second of it.

As he walked from his dorm to Magdalen College, not at all bothered by the crisp night air, his phone vibrated in his pants pocket.

A video chat from Pennyworth?

When he saw the caller ID cocked an eyebrow in confusion. Not because the elderly butler was calling him but because he was calling him at this time of night. The lateness of the hour meant it was rather early back home. Which could only mean that the decision for this impromptu video chat wasn’t made by Pennyworth.

Unless, Pennyworth was just feeling sentimental. Damian thought as he clicked the phone’s green answer button.

“Pennyworth.”

The old butler smiled at him from the phone’s screen. “Master Damian how are you this evening?”

Damian smiled back; “I am well, Pennyworth. Currently on my way to an evening class.”

“That’s wonder…”

The phone quickly moves and Alfred’s face is no longer in view. Worried that the butler might be in danger Damian yells into the receiver; threatening whomever might be bringing harm to the man. But when a face fills the screen Damian’s worry changes to fear in a heartbeat.

“!خدى”

“Son, don’t use that kind of language. I raised you better than that.“

His father wore an expression of angry calm and despite seeing it on many occasions it still sent a chill down the young man’s spine. It was all in the eyes; the anger. The rest of his father’s face remained entirely poised and unwrinkled. But his dark blue eyes were filled with fury and a mix of disappointment. It was an expression his father usually saved for the scum that ran the streets of Gotham. But that didn’t stop the Bat from using it on his children.

“I apologize, Father. You startled me. It won’t happen again; I promise.”

Bruce nods and the cold anger deflates from his face just a bit. In its place is a stern calmness. “Now… When were you planning on telling me you were accepted to the summer program?”

“After I finished.” Damian replies coldly.

“Father, I apologize for being rude but, I must get to class. I cannot be late as my professor is almost as strict as Grandfather and will surely have my head. But I will call you later. Goodbye.”

Damian ends the call before Bruce can respond and returns his phone to the front pocket of his jeans. He stands on the sidewalk for a bit staring at the night sky. Not a single star was shining yet and so the sky looked like calligraphy ink; an endless void of pure black. Despite everything the call made him miss his father, Pennyworth, and Gotham City itself. He sighs forlornly but straightens his backpack and continues his walk to class.

XXXX

They landed at the London airport around midday a couple of days after Bruce spoke to Damian. Despite their multiple refusals he insisted that the two of them fly out and check on the boy. He even gave them an entire speech to convince them to go. And now they were exiting one of the many Wayne Enterprises private jets.

“B usually saves those lines for the big boss battles, you know?” Jason said as he stretched trying to remove the tension in his body from the lengthy plane ride.

Jason wore his usual attire; dark blue jeans, a black shirt, brown leather jacket and black combat boots. Dick strode up beside him and handed over a black duffle. They both brought their uniforms just in case anything happened while they attended to this family matter. Dick wore gray lace-less slip-on sneakers, black skinny jeans, a plaid navy shirt and a black double-breasted peacoat.

“You look like you popped right out of a Nordstorm ad, Dickie-Boy.”

“Very funny.”

Even though they did not fly through any airline they still needed to walk through the busy London airport. Besides it would hard to travel in any normal way being two people who were legally dead. The only difference was that one of them actually did die. They walked through the airport in silence talking only when they walked down a somewhat busy London sidewalk a block or two away from the airport.

“So, I know B is crazy worried about Damian, but, he’s probably fine. I mean the kid’s what? Eighteen? Twenty? Twenty-three? Point is…”

“He’s not a kid, anymore. I know, Jay, I know.”

Dick shook his head and sighed. In the short silence that followed he took out his phone and sent a confirmation text to their father. He would much rather rely the information to Alfred but Bruce was treating Damian’s cold shoulder like an ice blast from Freeze. Dick sighed again and hoped that short text didn’t come off as rude. But then again there wasn’t much more to say.

Just landed. On our way.

Bruce texted back immediately: Inform me of any changes in directive.

Dick shook his head at how easily Bruce could switch to mission mode. Sometimes it seemed as if there was no end to Batman and no start to Bruce Wayne; that the two sides of his double life had swirled together over the years. That or the night-life serving as Gotham City’s protector turned Bruce’s hard edges into something even harder.

Or he could just be helicopter-parenting to the extreme, he thought with a slight chuckle.

Jason was busy trying to hail a taxi but was having no such luck. Rain drops began to fall in a very slight drizzle which annoyed the both of them. London, being famously rainy, tended to have long and hard rainstorms. And that was something they needed to avoid if they wanted to get this done quickly. Finally, a black cab pulled to the curb and stopped. Jason angrily climbed in and Dick followed suit. They told the driver where they going and the middle-aged man nodded before he eased back into traffic.

“We need to do this for Bruce.” Dick said as they settled into the rear seats of the taxi.

“I just don’t understand why it has to be us.”

“Because we promised, Jay”

“Only after he threatened us,” Jason replied with a slight smirk.

XXXX

Damian sat in his dorm; alone. Using his wealth and status as a Wayne he convinced the admissions office to let him have a dorm to himself. He sat the cheaply made wooden desk writing an essay on how Shakespeare’s plays appealed to all audiences of the time through his use of higher language as well as crude humor.

He was also ignoring the fact that he needed sleep.

His eyes closed and his head drooped as he began to unconsciously nod off. But then a series of loud knocks on his door jolted him awake. Rising from his seat he marked the passage of Othello he was using for his essay with a yellow flag sticky note. As he crossed the room he grumbled threats in his native tongue under his breath aimed at whoever stood behind his door.

“ساقتل بحذف عاكاتك ناماها”

"سخيف الكلب انا سوف يقتاك ”

“ابن لا تصلح للتنفس”

But to his surprise the two people standing in his doorway were the last two people he’d been expecting. Upon seeing the two figures in his doorway his jaw dropped and his eyes went wide and then in the moment his face scrunched in anger. He grit his teeth angrily but allowed the two men to enter his dorm room.

“Grayson. Todd.”

“Hey, buddy,” Dick said with a smile as he looked around the room. “Nice place you get here.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed. “Cut the pleasantries, Grayson. I know Father sent the two of you to spy on me.”

Dick had sat down on Damian’s small, almost military cot-like, bed while Jason rifled through the young man’s miniature fridge. Then Dick rose and crossed to Damian’s desk and looked over his essay. Jason grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and a pack of trail mix. Meanwhile Damian stood near the doorway leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“Don’t you have any real food, Short Stop?” Jason asked he sat Indian-style on the middle of the floor and began to eat.

“You cannot make fun of my height any longer, Todd. We’re the exact same height. Tell me why Father has you two spying on me. Now!” Damian said through grit teeth.

Dick spun around in the chair and crossed his arms over the back. “Bruce is worried about you. He sent us because you’ve been ignoring him, kiddo. Hey, wait, are you wearing a Nightwing shirt?”

Damian’s tan cheeks turned a dark red in embarrassment and he looked away. He had completely forgotten that he was wearing the shirt. He had even forgotten that he had bought it until he put it on that morning before his 6AM stage fighting class. That early morning class was also the reason he wore clothing he would normally never wear in public; sweatpants and sandals.

“What of it, Grayson?”

“Nothing,” Dick replied with a proud smile.

“Why don’t you sit here by me, Shorty?” Jason said giving Damian a worried look.

“Oh. Sorry. Force of habit. But you look like you’re one foot in the grave. Sit down.”

Damian scoffed but sat. “You don’t understand what college is like, Todd. You never went.”

“One of the advantages of being dead, I guess,” Jason said with a slight chuckle. “I haven’t written an essay in years and besides I don’t think any of us needs to go to college. Especially you.”

“You are a disgrace, Todd,” Damian said through a mouthful of trail mix.

The three of them soon fell into conversation about their other lives. Much to their surprise Damian was dying to know about everything that was going on in Gotham. And he really meant everything from what was going on with the family to what the GCPD was doing to the adventures of Arkham’s current inmates. As Jason told a story of how he and The Outlaws took down Killer Croc one time Damian snuggled closer to him, but, Jason took no notice.

“Jason...” Dick whispered.

“What? I was in the middle of the best part.”

“Look,” he said as he pointed to the spot next to Jason.

Jason turned to see that the young adult had fallen asleep against him. His face contorted in a mix of anger and surprise. “Seriously, Dami?”

“Wait a minute, Jay. Don’t move.”

Dick walked over and bent down on the other side of the sleeping youngster. He pulled his phone out and when Jason started to object Dick shushed him. Reaching out Dick snapped a photo of the three of them. Looking at the photo he chuckled to himself. The only time that the young man had ever looked peaceful and calm was when he was sound asleep. Then he sent the photo to Bruce with a caption.

Mission’s going well. Enemy has been subdued.

When Bruce received the text from Dick all the worry left him and he smiled wider than he had in long time.

[the-connection]

A new documentary reworks the memoir of Bowers, who boasts he paired Cary Grant with Rock Hudson and Katharine Hepburn with 150 brunettes and slept with so many actors he didnt have time to see their films

Scotty Bowers was a 23-year-old petrol station attendant on Hollywood Boulevard when the actor Walter Pidgeon pulled up to the pump and asked the dimpled blond to jump in his Lincoln. It would be the ride of his life. Pidgeon was gay, claims Bowers in his autobiography Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars, and that afternoon they became lovers. Bowers himself transcended labels. Years later, he startled sexologist Dr Alfred Kinsey by checking off every sex act on his list (and took him to orgies to prove it). Guys, girls, spouses, kings, consorts and a three-way with Ava Gardner and Lana Turner. Bowers had done it all.

[Kinsey] came looking for me, says Bowers, now 95, on a hot afternoon in a Hollywood courtyard apartment. Things he thought impossible, I came up with. With his devilish blue eyes and thick white hair, it is easy to picture why he was popular. He burns with energy, as though he spent his retirement stoking gossip he vowed he wouldnt spill while his lovers were alive. J Edgar Hoover? A drag. Vivien Leigh? A hot, hot lady. Wallis Simpson? A real ballsy chick.

Bowers (second from left, back row) with friends. Photograph: Courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment

Bowers used to turn tricks in this same building. Today, the vintage-style pad belongs to the director Matt Tyrnauer, a former Vanity Fair journalist who recently reworked Bowers memoir into the eyebrow-raising documentary Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood. Tyrnauer, sitting next to Bowers and gently nudging his digressions on track, confirms that he called the Kinsey Institute to check Bowers tale. They knew exactly who he was.

Everyone knew Bowers. George Cukor, Gore Vidal, Merv Griffin; Tyrone Power referred to him in letters, interviews and biographies, calling him Scotty, Sonny, or just the gas station on Hollywood Boulevard. Tennessee Williams hand-wrote a 40-page story about him, which Bowers found embarrassingly over the top.

I said: Tennessee, forget that bullshit, says Bowers. I should have kept it. Instead, for decades, people pushed him to write down his own memories. I kept putting it off and putting it off, and all of a sudden, almost everyone they wanted me to write about was dead.

Lana Turner and Ava Gardner, with whom Bowers claims to have had a threesome. Photograph: Keystone/Getty Images

In 1946, the year he met Pidgeon, Bowers was competing with millions of other returning second world war veterans for work. Canoodling with a celebrity for $20 made more sense than digging a ditch for $10. After Pidgeon spread the word about his new friend, more luxury cars began to cruise by. Soon, Bowers side-hustle had expanded to a parked trailer with two king beds, glory holes in the bathroom and a battalion of good-looking men and women to fix up with some of the biggest names in Hollywood. Bowers boasts that he paired Cary Grant with Rock Hudson back when the Pillow Talk star was still named Roy, and introduced Katharine Hepburn to 150 lovely brunettes. As for Hepburns rumored paramour Spencer Tracy, Bowers says he slept with him, too.

Hepburn and Tracys complex relationship is a fascinating example of Hollywoods hypocritical and literal moral code. Publicists decided it was better to pretend the friends were having an affair than explain the real reason why Tracy wasnt living with his wife Louise, to whom he stayed married until his death. A heterosexual affair was forgivable even romantic and it wouldnt get either actor fired. After Fatty Arbuckle was put on trial for the rape and murder of Virginia Rappe, the studios began to add a clause in their contracts forbidding actors from committing any offence that risked public hatred, contempt or ridicule. While the courts found Arbuckle innocent twice the Hollywood moguls believed just a whiff of indecency could destroy the entire industry. The swinging days of the early silent era ended overnight. Performers became studio property: they were told how to dress, how to behave, and who to date, or at least pretend to.

Bowers in uniform in the 1940s. Photograph: Greenwich Entertainment

It was a lucrative lie. Roy Harold Scherer got his teeth capped and became Rock Hudson. When the tabloids began to nag Hudson to get married, the executives betrothed him to his lesbian secretary Phyllis. Archibald Leach was rechristened Cary Grant and wed to the great beauty Barbara Hutton, although the love of his life was screen cowboy Randolph Scott, with whom he lived for 12 years as a roommate. Bowers says in his book: The three of us got into a lot of sexual mischief together.

Living double lives took a toll. Eventually, Hudson began drinking a bottle of scotch a day and recklessly sleeping with strangers. Grant tried psychedelic therapy and spoke in quips that hinted at his unfulfillment. I played at being someone I wanted to be until I became that person, or he became me, he told his biographer. Even his most famous quote Everyone wants to be Cary Grant. Even I want to be Cary Grant sounds like a whispered confession, or maybe a misdirection. What if he just wanted to be as free as Archibald Leach?

Bowers bedded so many movie stars that he didnt have time to see their movies. A movie takes a couple hours. I was busy every minute. When his daughter, Donna, died, he went back to work that day. He shared a home with her mother, his longtime partner Betty, but slept there only a few times a year. In the documentary, he teeters towards admitting regret for spending most nights in someone elses bed. But he candidly admits his only true passion was money. He grew up hungry during the Depression era, and, as a young teenager, he turned tricks for two dozen Chicago priests who paid him in quarters. That would be abuse in everyones eyes but his. In the documentary, Tyrnauer repeatedly presses Bowers about his childhood, and does so again today.

Youre very intent on the fact that you dont perceive yourself as a victim, says Tyrnauer.

I did what I wanted to do, maintains Bowers.

That is not the conventional perspective at all, but it is his perspective and I dont judge him for that, says Tyrnauer. I think people get to define who they are and tell their story and express their beliefs.

Executives married off Rock Hudson to his lesbian secretary, Phyllis Gates. Photograph: Kobal/Rex/Shutterstock

I do think that different people are different, thats very true, replies Bowers. Im speaking for myself only.

As an adult at the petrol station, Bowers never took a cut of other peoples cash. To him, that meant he wasnt a pimp; he was a purveyor of joy. The most important thing was company, says Bowers. The LGBTQ community didnt have many safe places to connect at that time. Homosexuality was illegal in California until the 1970s. When the Los Angeles Police Department vice squad the sexual Gestapo, says Tyrnauer barged into a gay bar, patrons risked being arrested, shaken down for cash, shipped to a mental institution, and possibly lobotomised. The LAPD targeted the Hollywood glitterati because they had careers to protect and money to spare.

When the petrol station became too famous, Bowers became a for-rent party bartender, which gave celebrities an even better excuse to invite him into their homes. Even that was risky. One cop memorised Bowers car registration plate and would pull him over, scare him a bit, and then undo Bowers pants while complaining about his miserable marriage. I hope he found happiness, writes Bowers, charitably.

The vice squad is responsible for Bowers impressive memory. Midway through one aside, he recites the address of a silent movie star who has been dead for 45 years. Terrified of a raid, he rarely wrote down his friends information. It was all in my head, says Bowers. I never kept anything. If I wrote down a number, I had it in my hand until I tore it up. Even then, he would swap the first and last digits to ensure the persons identity couldnt be cracked, a trick inspired by the Navajo code talkers.

Now, Bowers has no secrets. Critics have slammed the book and the documentary for outing celebrities without consent. In the film, Tyrnauer includes a film fan arguing that legendary stars deserve more respect. Bowers counters: Whats wrong with being gay? Others have thanked him for sticking up for the real person underneath the studio gloss for revealing their truth the way they might have if they were alive today. It is impossible to know how Hudson and Grant would have chosen to live in a country that legalised gay marriage. Perhaps their lives would have been happier. Although, Bowers notes, even in 2018: Everythings not going to be out in the open. More actors are out, but now must prove they can play both gay and straight characters. Neil Patrick Harris has succeeded; Matt Bomer is trying. Some have decided that it is still easier to hide.

Asked if he is biting his tongue about anyone alive, Bowers blurts out the name of a beloved actor and her 169% gay husband. He is dead; she isnt. So, Bowers will wait. Let me tell you something: when youre dead youre dead, he insists. Later, when the conversation turns to Kevin Spacey Bowers claims to know one of his exes Tyrnauer steadily repeats that Bowers information about the alleged perpetrator is merely secondhand. The director is clearly, and correctly, aware of the complexities of talking sensitively about sex in the era of #MeToo. But after eight decades of secrecy Bowers sighs: Poor Kevin Spacey, he was right in the middle of a picture and they dumped him and everything. Thanks to #MeToo, morality clauses are making a comeback. This time, one hopes they will only be wielded for good.

Cary Grant (right) with his room mate Randolph Scott. Photograph: Snap/Rex Features

Hollywood journalist Liz Smith once quipped: All this crap about coming out! Honey, I dont think I have ever really been in! Before she died last November, she affirmed that Hepburn was a lesbian.

I was pleased that she went on the record about Hepburn because I dont think shed ever done it before, says Tyrnauer. It really provides a great assist to Scottys narrative about Hepburn and Tracy, because people are in willful suspension of belief about this supposed golden couple.

Even more startling are Bowers lusty tales about Wallis Simpson and Edward VIII. Wally and Eddie, corrects Bowers, waving away their formal names. It was very easy to see how she talked him out of being king of England because she had complete control over him, says Bowers. She told him if you want to fool around and do this and that, you cant do it if youre king.

Scotty Bowers at home in LA. Photograph: Courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment

A lot of people dont believe that particular story, says Tyrnauer. But he places them at the Beverly Hills Hotel in the 50s. We found a picture of them in the Beverly Hills Hotel in that period its in the movie. Four former clients knew Edward, and the couples close friend, photographer Cecil Beaton, titled an entire chapter of his diary: Scotty.

There were many, many factors that connected them, says Tyrnauer. I cross-referenced everything I could. When Bowers described a mansions winding pathway to the pool house, or a gate in a backyard, Tyrnauer would pull up an aerial view of Google Maps and there it was, as though the nonagenarian had visited yesterday.

In Los Angeles, notes the director: You can wipe the dust off something that has been obscured and find the truth. Scottys a living example of that. Here he was in Laurel Canyon for decades minding his business. And yet hes Scotty Bowers, the infamous male madame to the stars, and either you knew it or you didnt.

He has tried to ensure Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood tells the truth instead of peddling innuendo like tabloids, TMZ, or even acclaimed smut such as Kenneth Angers Hollywood Babylon.

Am I in that, too? asks Bowers.

Tyrnauer chuckles: Maybe between the lines.

There always will be secret life happening, beams Bowers. People should do what pleases them and the other person some people just please more than a few.

Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood is out now in the US and awaiting a UK release date

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us