#i am holding timothy in my arms. i just think he's neat!!

[cherrytraveller]

absolutely forgot i had these doodles and somehow i also vividly remembered someone once asked me about more Franky content so here we are featuring Donnie & Franky's Autism Hostility and @pinetreevillain 's Most Guy Ever Timothy, whom Franky consistently calls Tim Avocado.

Twitter || Ko-fi || Instagram

[butwhyduh]

Pregnancy scare with the Batboys?

These all happen at different times in their lives. Dick at 24, Jason 26, and Tim 20 because I feel like that’s the ages they’d like have this.

Warning: it’s gotta little bit of everything. Fluff, smut, convenience story robbery, blood, one little crude sex joke.

Dick

“I stopped at the store and got everything we need before the store comes in. Even got those pad tampon things you use,” Dick said waving the box proudly. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the box.

“And what prompted that?” You asked, eyes narrowed.

“A coupon deal on them,” Dick answered and you laughed.

“That makes more sense. Let me put these up and I’ll cook dinner,” you said, walking to the bathroom.

“Nope! I’m cooking,” Dick said happily.

“Okay,” you said planning to help him anyways.

You walked in the bathroom to put the box in your usual drawer only to find it full. When was the last time you needed one? You did the math and realized that it’s been almost 2 months. With your university schedule being crazy and Dick got hurt a few weeks ago, you’d forgotten all about your period.

You skin chilled at the thought. What if you were- what if you were pregnant? You were too young. You were 24 but it felt too young. You were only dating. You hadn’t gotten to the kids talk yet.

“Hey babe, where is the- what’s wrong?” Dick asked from the doorway. He looked at the package in your hand and the matching one in the drawer with confusion.

“Uh, I missed my period last month,” you said and his eyes widened. “I completely forgot.”

“Oh.”

He looked at you frozen. “Wait- are you saying you might be...”

“Maybe,” you answered. “We gotta get tests and everything. And stress can mess it up. And we’ve been using protection every time.”

“Yeah. I’ll run to the store, okay?” He said before hurrying out the door. You sat on the toilet with the box still in hand. What if you were pregnant? Dick was a good guy but he didn’t exactly have a ton of money. He was a part time gymnastics teacher. You were in college.

“Okay I got 4,” Dick said, back in record time. He gave you the bag and watched you.

“Dick?”

“Hu?”

“Get out of the bathroom.”

“Oh right,” he said, leaving and shutting the door. You could hear him pacing as you took the tests. You unlocked the door as you waited for the tests to finish. A neat little row of absolute terror on the side of the bathtub.

“Are they done?” Dick asked anxiously.

“No. We wait two minutes,” you said almost hollowly with stress and he nodded roughly.

“If you are... I’ll be here. I’ll be here for whatever you decide. No matter your choice,” Dick said holding your hands. You gulped.

“Yeah. Thanks. I can’t believe I forgot,” you said with a little laugh. He hugged your shoulders.

“Things have been crazy,” Dick said with a shrug. Your phone alarm went off and you quickly looked at all of the tests. Negative. You both relaxed. You sighed in relief.

“That would have been crazy,” you said with a laugh. Dick laughed a little too. “I am not ready to be a mom.”

“Yeah. Same. I’d need a better job and a better place. Not that there’s anything wrong with our apartment but it’s too small for a baby,” Dick rambled on. He stopped when he noticed your little grin. “You know, I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you.”

You didn’t answer but pulled him in for a kiss that Dick eagerly returned before finally pulling away because you were in the bathroom surrounded by used pregnancy tests and boxes of menstrual products.

“I’ll clean up while you get dinner started. Yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dick said with a kiss to your cheek.

Jason

You’d been thinking about it for a few days with a sense of denial. Your period was late. And you were mentally freaking out. You were too young. I mean, you were 26 but it felt too young! Your relationship was too new! You had been dating for 2 years but it felt too fast!

You hurried down to a corner store that you didn’t normally visit near your apartment to grab some tests. You jumped a little when the bell on the door rang as another customer entered the store. You had been too worried and stressed about picking from the 7 different types of pregnancy tests. Were they all the same or totally different? You just wanted to know ‘baby or naw.’ You grabbed three and put them in a hand basket.

“PUT your hands up where we can see them,” a man yelled and you froze before looking up, your hands above your head, basket on your wrist. “Take off any jewelry and pull out your wallets. We’ll be taking those,” a man in a ski mask said. There were a total of 12 customers and 2 shop clerks.

You carefully pulled your crossbody bag off your shoulder and held it out. A man grabbed it roughly from you and you made a tiny noise that made him smile. He looked you over and you wanted to shrink away.

There was a loud crashing noise as the side glass was broken and a man with a pair of guns blazing stood in the middle. The bright red helmet let you know that it was Jason and you almost sagged in relief. Almost. He pointed the gun at both criminals and shot at their knees. The rubber bullets hit them both in the knees and they fell before you could even move. He quickly punched them both in the head and they lost consciousness. Jason roughly tied them up by the register and everyone started to leave the building quickly while grabbing their things.

Jason grabbed you and pulled you from the building and up to the roof, basket still on your wrist. He rolled his helmet off and looked you over.

“Are you alright?” He asked holding your face in his hands. You grasped his wrists.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” you reassured him. He looked you over before his eyes fell to the basket. Jason froze as he looked at the contents. A candy bar and 3 pregnancy tests.

“Are you? Why do you have these?” He asked, looking at your face quickly. You sat the basket down.

“Maybe,” you answered quietly. His mouth opened a little as if you speak but he didn’t. “I mean, I’m late.”

“Okay. Alright,” he said nodding. “We just need to test first. God, you were almost shot and you might be pregnant.”

He pulled you tightly in his arms until the armor pressed against you. Jason’s lips pressed against the side of your head. For one of the first times, he looked scared.

Back at your apartment, you could hear Jason pacing as you took the test. You unlocked the door and he came in, staring at them. Neither one of you spoke before the results came in. Negative. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“I would have been there for you. No matter what. But I’m glad that it’s negative. We should plan this stuff, you know? My job... it’s too dangerous,” Jason said carefully.

“I know. We can’t,” you said with a dry smile.

“I’d quit. If you were. So that you and the baby would be safe,” he said and you quickly looked at him.

“You shouldn’t have to,” you said.

“But I would.”

Tim

Tim’s hands were tight on your hips as he thrust in your from behind and you couldn’t stop making little noises. God, were you always this tight? He could barely control himself and the second you clamped around him in pleasure, Tim came as well. Both of you panted as he roughly and slowly thrust through your highs. Tim pushed in deeply before stopping to catch his breath and then pulling out.

“Fuck,” he said in a terrified voice. You turned to look at him confused. “The condom came off.”

Your eyes widened at the implication. “Did you- did you finish inside?” You asked as cold panic flooded your body. You were only using condoms at this point in time.

“Yeah. Definitely,” he said, looking down and in literally any other situation he would have loved the sight before him. His cum leaked out of you and Tim winced.

After a few minutes of trying to finally get the useless condom out, you were almost in full freak out. You were only 20. You couldn’t get pregnant!

“I’ll get plan B. Unless you don’t want it,” Tim said looking at you.

“Good idea. We definitely need that,” you said nodding. “But you can’t go to the store and buy plan B. Timothy Drake-Wayne buys plan B. Playboy like his father Bruce Wayne? I could just see the headline. I’ll go.”

“Smart,” he said. You quickly took a shower and threw on clothes before running down to a pharmacy. Your heart pounded as you asked the pharmacist for a plan B but she simply gave you a box that you paid for. You took the pill before even leaving the store and threw away the evidence as if someone cared what you did.

That night you had some nausea and cramping but were fine otherwise. Tim was extra nice in the next few weeks as you both waited to see if your period would ever come. He put in effort to see you more often and stay off his phone when you were together. Finally you woke up one morning with cramps where actually pleasantly happy to see that you had finally started to bleed. That didn’t happen often.

You told Tim who sagged in relief. He didn’t even know how much tension he held in his body before releasing it. He kissed your cheek and you laughed a little.

“Never buying that brand of condoms again,” he swore.

“I’m making an appointment to get birth control,” you said and he quickly turned to you.

“Really? No more condoms?” Tim said hopefully.

“It’ll take a little while to start working but yeah,” you said with a little smile. “Then I can be your Twinkie instead of your toaster strudel,” you laughed.

“Wow. I wish I could time travel to unhear that,” Tim said covering his face with a hand while laughing.

“You know that’s a good joke,” you laughed pushing his shoulder.

“...yeah,” he said with a grin.

[growup-thatbeautiful]

I love the song Pretty boy by the neighborhood and I think of Timothy

what a beautiful song! i hope you like it<3333

send me a song and i’ll write a fic!

pretty boy

you’ve had a shitty day.

first, you woke up late. normally, it wouldn’t be so much of a problem because timothee was good at waking you if you were awake on time, but he had an early meeting and had needed to leave extra early. you don’t blame him, how could you? but it makes for a rushed and stressful morning, something you personally hate. you didn’t have time for coffee or tea, and you couldn’t stop by the local shop because the line was too long. you were pleased to see that they’re doing good business, though.

your boss screwed up and decided that it was, conveniently, all your fault. you wouldn’t of minded taking the blame if it had been something remotely related to your department, but it hadn’t been and you had to bear the worst of his yelling. to top it off, he had yelled at you in front of everyone, snapping when you asked him if there was something you could help with.

all of that was before lunch, which you realized too late that you had left at home. you didn’t have time again to go pick something up, so you ate an apple from the break room and a bag of stale chips from the vending machine. not great, and even worse because it had been freezing in the office all day.

you got water splashed on you walking home, your phone decided it was a good time to update and you can’t use it, and your feet hurt.

you’re just happy to be home at this point, even though you’re stuck in the kitchen doing all the dishes that you two have been putting off for most of the week.

you’re immersed in self-pity and dish washing, so you don’t hear timothee when he comes through the front door.

“rough day?” he asks, coming behind you and wrapping you in his arms. you can see his reflection on the white tiles, and that alone is enough to make you smile.

“feels like the world is falling apart around me,” you admit, leaning back into him. “but you always make my day better.”

“i try,” he says with a smile, burrowing his head in your neck. “i’d be happy to be by your side of the world was ending, though.”

“come on, i’ll finish this later. we can watch your favorite movie. i’ll make popcorn, and we have mnms.”

“that sounds great, but i really have to do this. then i have some work to finish up, because i spent a lot of my day at work crying.”

you can hear the frown in his voice. “you need to take a break.”

“no. i can’t. if i do then i’ll be so behind, and then-“ you break off with a choked sob.

“love,” he says, a sentence and meaning all in one word. “come on. i’ll do those for you later, and if your boss gives you shit tomorrow he’ll have me to deal with too, okay? you need to take care of yourself. it looks like your world is going crazy right now, so i’m going to be here for you as long as you need me and will have me.

now, i’m going to finish these while you go take a long shower and put on some comfortable clothes. do whatever you need to do, baby, okay? don’t worry about me waiting for you, cause i’m going to be here all night., and then we can talk about whatever you want and you can cry if you need to.” you nod slowly, holding onto him a little while longer then going to do just what he said.

you decide to treat yourself in the shower, using the special soaps that smells like fresh strawberries. if you’re going to cry all night you might as well sleep good.

once you’re out, you steal one of timothee’s shirts and put on a threadbare pair of sweats.

true to his word, the dishes are put away and the kitchen is neat. he’s sitting on the couch, your favorite blankets laid out and the aroma of your favorite candle from its place on the table is calming.

“hey, pretty boy,” you say softly. his sunshine smile makes you feel better and like crying more simultaneously.

“hi, lovely. you feeling better?”

“i am now. thank you,” you say earnestly.

“nothing to thank. i just did what i could to make you feel okay again. i’m guessing you want to watch a movie?” he asks.

“you know me so well.”

“happy or sad?” you consider your options. sad movies somehow revertly make you feel happy at the end. happy movies do too, but in a more superficial way.

“sad. you choose a good one.”

“a movie night for the end of the world.” he says, inviting you under the blankets and kissing the side of your head.

[kumeko]

For @dickgraysonexchange2020, for courage_boss! I had a lot of fun with this one.

Prompt: Dick gets a coupon book for his bday and uses all but the last one.

…

…

…

…

If there was one good thing about Bruce Wayne’s string of adoptions, it was that events were never a quiet affair. No matter how much Jason or Damian might have wanted them to be. Dick, on the other hand, embraced the fullness of the manor. The place felt too empty and stuffy on a normal day, what with most of the family out and about.

 It was only for special days, like his birthday, that everyone gathered together again. Between his friends and family, every room felt full, the manor bursting with sound and life. A far cry from the dreary dinners when it had just been the three of them, with Bruce awkwardly figuring out parenting and Alfred kindly filling in the gaps.

 Walking around with a slice of cake, Dick spotted Alfred and grinned. He meandered over. “Alfred, one of these days, you’re going to realize just how much you’d make running a restaurant.”

 Alfred chuckled. “Perhaps, Master Richard, but the last time I left, the manor collapsed.” His expression was fond. “It’s too much work fixing it after.”

 “That…” Dick couldn’t even argue. Anytime Alfred left on vacation, sabbatical, whatever, nothing went right. The kitchen burned. Bruce forgot to eat or sleep. Mold and dust became new tenants. “It’s all a ploy to keep you here longer.”

 “Then it is certainly working.” His smile looked more amused than weary. “You certainly do keep me on my toes.”

“Dick!” Tim poked his head out of the study. Spotting him, he gestured for him to come. “Got a sec?”

 “It’s only a party,” Dick teased, nodding to Alfred before going. “Not like I have anything important to miss.”

 Tim rolled his eyes. “You could have been talking to someone.” Despite his cavalier words, his cheeks reddened from embarrassment.

 Dick didn’t press the matter, storing it away instead for later teasing. “What’s up?” he asked as he stepped into the study.

 There was no such thing as a small room in the Wayne manor. Yet, crowded with Damian, Cassandra, Tim, Bruce, and Jason, the study suddenly felt cozy. Dick grinned, unable to help himself. “The whole gang’s here!”

 Jason clicked his teeth. “Let’s get it over with.”

 “For once, I agree with the failure,” Damian added, crossing his arms.

 “Aww, don’t be like that.” Dick sidled up to them, planting himself in between. Before they could react, he loped an arm around their shoulders. “You both came, after all.”

 “I made sure of it,” Bruce said simply. Dick wasn’t sure what that entailed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

 Damian squawked. “I didn’t—”

 “Don’t you—” Jason growled, tossing off Dick’s arm.

 “We got you a gift!” Tim interrupted, before a fight could erupt. He held out a small, neatly wrapped box. The wrapping paper and ribbon were a soft blue, matching his Nightwing costume. “Everyone chipped in.”

 “Chipped in?” Dick reluctantly let go of the two to accept. Ignoring how Damian and Jason immediately escaped to the other side of the room, he carefully pulled the ribbons and unwrapped. What could it possibly be, if everyone chipped in and it was so tiny? Tickets? A gadget? A thick wad of cash?

 Oddly enough, none of those. Instead there was a small book inside, roughly the size of a chequebook. Scrawled neatly on the top was Coupons.

 “A coupon book?” Confused, he looked up at Tim. “You guys chipped in for a coupon book?”

 “Look inside,” Tim encouraged, his smile so wide it nearly split his face in half.

 “Okay…” Still bemused, he quickly flipped through the pages. Defeat your enemies. Do a chore. Take the night off. Massage. The writing differed from page to page, from Damian’s neat, cramped writing to Cassandra’s messy flowing one. Most of them were made by Tim though, and they were of course all the normal ones.

 It was better than anything he’d imagined. Feeling utterly soft, he quickly hugged Tim. “Thanks.” Without missing a beat, he pounced on Damian and Jason. Despite their protests, they didn’t squirm out of his grip. Finally, he rounded on Cass and Bruce, both of which hugged him back awkwardly, as though they weren’t sure quite how.

 “I can’t believe you made this,” he said, finally untangling himself.

 “Well, considering everything we have, it’s hard to buy gifts.” Tim shrugged. “Steph had the idea, actually.”

 Well, that made sense. She always had the fun, interesting ideas.  Dick made note to thank her later. “I can’t believe you two agreed to this,” he said, looking at Damian and Jason.

 “A little strong arming from Cass,” Tim explained.

 “I did not get threa—” Damian protested, glaring at Tim. Hopefully this didn’t lead to the two of them stabbing each other in the batcave later. Then again, there was a clean the batcave ticket too, maybe he could have them clean up after their mess.

 “I did not have to…convince Damian,” Cassandra replied stiffly. Despite how much time had passed, words were still her second most fluent language. “He was…agreeing to this.”

 “Really?” Jason guffawed.

 “That’s because no one can strong arm me,” Damian growled, his lips curling into a sneer as he glared at Jason. “And that means she did strong arm you.”

 “Stop,” Bruce warned, rubbing his forehead. “We’re in the middle of a party.”

 “Oh, don’t worry, I have that covered.” Dick whistled as he flipped through the coupon book, stopping at one of them. Tearing it out, he grinned. “Now, one of you two has to compliment me…who should I pick?”

 -x-

 “You…want me to cook?” Cassandra’s brow furrowed as she stared at the little slip of paper in her hands.

 “More or less.” Dick grinned as he led the way to his kitchen. His apartment was a small thing compared to the manor, but it was home, and there was something energizing about having someone over. If there was one thing he loved about the coupon book above all else, it was that it gave him an excuse to invite his far-flung family over.

 She cocked her head, still looking troubled. “I am not…good at it.”

 “That’s fine!” Dick hummed as he pulled out two aprons from his cupboard, handing one over to her. “As long as it’s edible.”

 “You…have one too?” Cassandra awkwardly stared at the bird-print apron, then at him.

 Laughing, he slowly put it on, demonstrating how to tie it all together. He should have expected that; his family was more comfortable fighting than they were in the kitchen, and it showed. “Yeah, we’ll cook together. It’s more fun that way, right?”

 Cassandra smiled, a small thing, and nodded. “Yes.”

 -x-

 Standing next to the old grandfather clock, Bruce crossed his arms. Honestly, he didn’t need to wear a mask to intimidate; his scowl was more than enough to scare off any random two-bit goon. “This isn’t what they were intended for.”

 Despite his words, he still hadn’t opened the passage to the batcave, and Dick considered that victory. It at least meant that Bruce was willing to hear him out. Holding out the paper, he shook his head. “How? I’m using them.”

 Bruce’s frown grew deeper. “Dick, that is supposed to be a night off for you.”

 “No, it just says night off.” Honestly, Bruce should have known better: Dick loved arguing semantics. Finding loopholes in Bruce’s rules was what he lived for. “So I’m giving you a night off.”

 “I—”

 “Babs and the Birds of Prey agreed to cover.” Dick pressed the coupon on Bruce’s chest confidently. “You’re not in the middle of a case. Perfect time for a night in.”

 “Dick…” Bruce ran a hand through his hair. Another push and he’d cave in. “Look, I appreciate it, but…”

 “Master Richard, Master Bruce.” Alfred stepped into the room and while Dick would never accuse him of something as underhanded as eavesdropping, the timing was suspect. “I have prepared the living room for your marathon. Master Timothy and Miss Cassandra are already there, though Master Damian has refused to join.”

 “Et tu, Alfred?” Bruce sighed, giving in. “Fine, but drag Damian down too, Dick. He’s not allowed to worm his way out.”

 “The if I go down, he goes down with me gambit.” Dick grinned. “I got it covered.”

 -x-

 Tim stared at the fruity mocktail he was holding, worrying his bottom lip. “I don’t think this is what Jason had in mind.”

 “I never go by what Jason has in mind,” Dick countered, drinking his own cocktail. Sipping from his ridiculously curly straw, he leaned back in his seat. “It’s always more fun that way.”

 “That’s…true,” Tim reluctantly agreed, surveying the rest of the batcave.

 Honestly, there couldn’t be anything better than relaxing by the computer, eating popcorn, and watching Damian and Jason handle all of the cleaning. Sure, they had automated robots and machines to handle this. This chore had been struck from the list years ago, after Bruce had upgraded the whole cave.

 Yet, sometimes Dick just wanted to see things done the old-fashioned way. Like Jason washing the batcar. Or Damian scrubbing the costumes. Both of them were quietly swearing as they worked, occasionally shooting him a dirty glare. He didn’t have to read their minds to know he’d have to watch his sleep for the next week; if they could murder him, they would.

 “Don’t forget the bat droppings,” he added cheerfully.

 If he was going to die young, might as well go out with a bang.

  -x-

 Dick sighed as he stared at the coupon book. In the span of a month, he’d managed to use almost all thirty of them, most of them in the most frivolous way possible. He didn’t regret it; it had been fun. No matter what ridiculous thing he came up with, his family had done it. Begrudgingly, at times, but they’d still done it.

 The whole thing had given them so many excuses to hang out, no matter what else was going on in their lives. And now it was all over. All he had left was a single Do whatever you say for a day ticket. One last one and the gift would be done.

 He sighed again. This gift was far too precious to use on a passing whim. Carefully, he folded up that last coupon, tucking it in securely into his wallet. Dick would save it for the best opportunity, for the final memory that couldn’t be replaced. A rainy day when he needed a pick-me-up.

 More importantly, it literally would force someone to do whatever he said for a day. Power like that had to be considered before he used it.

[whichstoodonrockyshores]

Chapter Five

(gay gay homosexual gay)

The days leading up to the wedding weren’t much better. Danny was almost always upset, and the only things that made him feel better were reading and cooking, and talking to Vinnie. He liked the kid, he was much smarter than he thought. He just needed a little more education, and he could definitely flourish later in life. But Danny couldn’t worry about that right now, not when the wedding was so close. He was getting married, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Uncle, you’ve been kinda sad for days! Is somethin’ wrong? I thought you were gettin’ married tomorrow, ain’t that a happy thing?” Vinnie asked, the night before the wedding, as he and Danny were eating dinner. Danny paused at the question, not sure how to answer it yet.

“I guess it’s a happy thing. I just… I didn’t want to be married.” Danny paused, trying to think of a way to explain this to a child. “Um… have you heard of Uncle Hamish?” He asked.

“Mhm! He’s the guy who lives in the woods, and no one likes him.” Vinnie responded. “What about him?”

“Well..son, do you know why no one likes him? That ain’t true by the way, I like him. He’s a good man.” Danny explained. “I think I’ll bring you to see him sometime.”

“Um..alright, why don’t some people like Hamish?”

“Before you were born, Uncle Hamish fell in love. With another man, like himself. His name is Otis, and they kept their relationship hidden until Grandpa Milton found out. He wasn’t happy, nearly killed them both, but they came to an agreement that they could both live as long as they never came back to town. And they didn’t.” Danny explained.

“A man can love other men?” Vinnie asked, looking pretty confused. He’d never heard of the concept before.

“Yep. It’s called homosexuality. And that’s why I don’t wanna get married.”

“You’re a homosexual?”

“Yes, I am. But don’t go sayin’ that to other people! Especially Lucy when she moves in, okay? And that’ll be tomorrow. And don’t say it to Grandpa Timothy or Grandma Helen either. In fact, just don’t tell anyone. Okay? I...I can’t risk it.” Danny explained, and Vinnie nodded. They both silently finished their dinners, and soon went to bed. Danny was laying in bed again, the gravity of the situation settling. He was getting married tomorrow.

He was getting married tomorrow.

And no amount of running would get him out of this.

Danny drifted off to sleep soon after, barely able to keep himself together. There was a sudden knock on his bedroom door, and he woke up and quickly looked out the window. It was a little after dawn, surprisingly. He felt like he’d barely slept at all. He got up and saw the person at the door was Vinnie, who looked a little upset.

“..hey, son. What is it, why are you still awake?”

“It’s nothin’ Uncle, I just realized somethin’! You’re not marryin’ this lady for love!” He cried, and Danny sighed.

“You’re right, Vinnie, I ain’t.”

“I don’t wanna turn out like that too! Forced to marry someone I don’t love!” He cried, as Danny bent down and pulled him into a hug.

“You won’t, okay? I’m sure that by the time you’re of age, the world’ll be different. And this arranged marriage bullshit will all be behind us.” He explained. He hoped his words would ring true later. He really hoped that.

“If you say so, Uncle.”

“And guess what, kid? You’re the ring bearer! You get to carry the rings down the aisle for us. Ain’t that neat?” He said, and Vinnie nodded.

“Yeah, that does sound pretty neat, Uncle.”

“I know! Now, I’m gonna make a great breakfast, and we’ll do the whole weddin’ stuff, and we'll come home and I’ll read to you again? How’s that sound?”

“Great, Uncle Danny.”

“Yeah, it is-“

There was a knock on the door, which Danny immediately answered. Vinnie, the curious child that he was, listened closely.

“A letter for Daniel Peachy. I was told this is his address?”

“It is, sir. Who’s it from?” Danny asked.

“Ronald Soto, it says here.”

“Oh! Thank you.”

“No problem, mister.”

Danny had a huge smile on his face, as he closed the door and sighed happily, holding the letter to his chest. He felt his cheeks get warmer as he twirled around, just elated Ron actually wrote back. Vinnie was slightly confused, as Danny sat down and opened the letter.

“Who’s that? Who’s Ronald Soto?”

“Um..my lover. He’s wonderful.”

“Oh! That makes sense. I’ll be back out for breakfast!”

“Alright, see you later Vinnie.”

Danny unfolded the letter, slightly anxious as to what it could be. He hoped Ron wouldn’t be too mad at him, he hoped he would understand-

Dear Danny,

It’s very saddening to hear about your marriage. I wish there was something I could do. And frankly, it makes me unbelievably angry that you are being forced into this by your asshole of a father! I would like to be there, so I can give him a piece of my mind! It’s just frustrating! Because I love you, I should be your husband, and that’s all that there is to it.

Thank you for the offer of letting me stay with you. I am considering it, and I might take it. Despite your marriage, I trust that you still have somewhere to house me. The local sheriff is onto me, so I might have to run again soon. I think I might just come to Hamish, Alabama.

And Danny! I love you. Don’t forget that, dumbass. Never forget that I love you. I can’t wait to feel your lips against mine again, and your big hands holding mine. You might be an idiot and all, but I can’t stop loving you for being yourself. Don’t worry about me, though. I’ll be alright.

Love,

Ron

Danny sighed happily, putting the letter on his room's desk, with the other one. He really hoped Ron would come to him. That would be so nice. He could finally hold the other man in his arms again. He’d give anything just to lay eyes on him again. He was smiling throughout breakfast, and Vinnie was giving him an odd look.

“Uncle, what did the letter say? You look giddy.”

“He said he might come and stay here for a little bit. The man is always on the run. But I’d love to see him again!” Danny explained.

“Why can’t you get married to this Ron fellow? You really seem to love him.” Vinnie asked.

“Well, it ain’t legal. Unfortunately.” He explained, and Vinnie sighed.

“So you can’t marry the person you love? Never?”

“..no, unless it’s legalized sometime soon. Which it won’t be. Most folks view it as an abomination. Goin’ against God and that..” he explained, a sad look on his face.

“..oh. Well, I’m sorry, but can we get changed? We should probably get ready for the weddin’.”

“... right, sorry.”

“It’s okay, Uncle."

Danny and Vinnie went into their rooms, and Danny changed quickly. The frills didn’t itch as much as he thought they would, which was definitely a plus. He looked nice. He took his hat off and brushed his hair back. He looked even better now. He was officially finished and left his room to see Vinnie struggling with his tie. He had messed it up significantly, and Danny sighed.

“Son, just, stop. Stop, put your hands up.” Vinnie stopped fiddling with his tie and put his hands above his head. Danny quickly did his tie for him and smiled. “There! You’re a handsome young lad, you know?”

“Oh, thanks, Uncle… I’m glad you think that.”

“Alright, I think it’s time for us to go.”

“You look weird without a hat.”

Danny just laughed at that and led Vinnie out of the house. The two of them walked in the side door of the church and saw Danny’s father, who was talking to Nancy. They seemed to be setting things up for the wedding.

“Hi, Grandpa Timothy!” Vinnie cried, and he turned his head, with a scowl.

“Hi Vincent…” he muttered back, and Nancy sighed. All of this made Danny kind of angry. That was just a child! Why did they hate him so much, he hadn’t even done anything to them!

“So, Daniel! All you need to do is walk behind Lucy’s mother, and stand at the aisle. Since you don’t have a Best Man, the Maid of Honor will walk behind you. After that is Helen, and then Vinnie.” Timothy explained. Danny nodded, that made just enough sense to him.

Before he knew it, everyone was in their seats. His mother was crying, and he was walking behind Lucy’s mother. She was a very pretty lady, he couldn’t deny that. Alice, the girl from the library, was walking behind him. His parents didn’t look very happy about that, but it was too late now. He stood up front, waiting. Danny’s niece, Helen, was gently throwing petals as Vinnie walked behind her.

Too late to do anything now.

[the-writerly-night-owl]

Tis’ the Season to Have Babies

Desire and Decorum/Ernest Sinclaire x MC + an some minor various pairs. 

Summary: In which Clara learns that she’s expecting around the same time as everyone else in London it seems.

Author’s Note: Fun fact I had this story in mind since I saw the prompt list. No joke, I was like that’s going to be the baby story. If you scroll down my list you’ll see a bunch of names that’s how it’ll connect. For the 41 Days of Cheer and the prompt Expecting.

The whole family was invited to Viscountess Lavinia’s baby shower. And Clara Sinclaire wanted to make sure that everyone was prepared and ready to leave. The party was set to start at noon after all. Waddling her way up to her room she could hear Harry and Theresa getting prepared. Then Briar and Edmund as well. Edgewater was starting to get fuller and fuller as they had children themselves.

Ernest had finished straightening his cravat as she stepped into the room. Just a quick change and make sure her hair looked nice.

“I have the present,” he said gesturing to a wrapped gift on their bed. “Are you sure I must go?”

“If I have to go full with child, you have to as well,” she said. “It will quite entertaining I’d imagine.”

After all she was expecting her first child in a few weeks. Theresa in currently in her sixth month and her dress showing off her stomach. Briar had fortunately had her daughter back in February and bringing her three-month-old daughter Katharine.

Ernest stared intently at her as she felt a blush creep to her cheeks. Then stepped in front of her to run a hand down her stomach. He could feel the kick of their child while she just smiled already envisioning him holding their son late at night together. She was positive it was a boy, but Ernest had insisted that it might be a daughter.

“Alright, only because you’re insisting. She had a son, didn’t she?” asked Ernest breaking his gaze away from her to kiss her softly. “Can you imagine our child growing up with hers?”

“I’d imagine that it’d be fun,” she said raising an eyebrow. Her hand slipped into his as they savored the moment before having to leave.

With that they were off as it was starting to get hard to move around. Smiling she sat next to Theresa in the carriage as she had insisted on going together. Harry and Theresa talking about what they would name their baby if it was a boy.

“Are you sure that we can’t argue about the name Vincent?” asked Harry to her and Ernest. Her husband had shaken his head.

“If our baby is born first and it’s a boy, we will name him Vincent,” said Ernest. “But if we have a girl and you have a boy his name will be Vincent, that is the arrangement.”

“And we stand firm with that,” added Clara.

Theresa only shrugged happy with the decision. As much as she loved the earl, she had insisted on naming the boy Timothy after her father. Harry took his wife’s hand rubbing it softly not saying anything. They both wanted to honor their late father. If only Briar had a son, she would have beaten them both to the punch!

“Jane for a girl then,” said Harry as they pulled in front of the Viscount’s home.

In front of them Luke Harper and his wife Cordelia were carrying in their son. Well the nursemaid was while the young couple holding hands, leisurely heading inside. The former Donna Bowman also struggling to walk with her pregnant belly.

It appeared that the year of the lord 1818 were so many women expecting a child. First Briar and so forth until the end of the year.

“I’ve never seen so many women together that looked like this,” said Harry a bit surprised.

“Me either, it must be half of London,” said Ernest holding Clara’s hand as they exited the carriage.

Clara was just excited to be able to give advice she had been passed onto and hear more. Clutching her gift did they enter the parlor set up all nice and neat. Lavinia standing next to the cradle to show off her and Westonly’s son.

Walking up to them did she drop off the gift with the others and peered at him. Ernest being pulled along also looked down at the child. He was very handsome with much of Lavinia’s features. Although she was thinking of what her baby would be like.

“Thank you for coming,” said Lavinia hugging her as best as possible and then Ernest as well. “Please have a snack. You’re a good friend to me Clara and I insist you hold him.”

Not even getting a chance to thank her for inviting them, Lavinia had put the infant in her arms. Oh, now that was different. Aww but he was so adorable sitting here as she had burped making Clara smile.

“You look very natural holding a baby,” said Ernest from over her shoulder. “I can’t wait for ours.”

“Yes, you’re having a baby,” said Lavinia not really hearing him. “Congratulations. Now I simply must show off little Anthony to some others. I believe that this is my chance to rub it into Miss Holloway?”

Clara passed her the infant as she laughed a little. There were a few young women here that didn’t have a baby yet, Miss Holloway included. With that she kissed Ernest’s cheek to talk with some would be expecting fathers. Perhaps Mr. Chambers who had been invited as well. It appeared that their usual social group had been invited with or without children.

From her spot she watched as Briar attempted to get Katharine to be friends with the young Westonly child. She and Edmund never really leaving each other’s side staying close to the window.

Harry and Theresa smiling at each other and exchanging long glances before eventually leaving the party discreetly to the outside area.

Cordelia and Luke part of the attention while they just praised their son like a prodigy. How she wanted to try again for another.

Watching them Clara went to find her husband. Ernest had been caught in a conversation with Viscount Westonly talking about war techniques again. Grateful for the escape she had pulled him out of site from the others. Then somewhere far away from where she hoped Harry and Theresa would be.

“Thank you for getting me away…”

Before Ernest could finished his sentence did Clara press her lips against his, arms going around his neck pulling him as close as she could. Savoring the moment Ernest kissed her back not stopping until they had to breath. Taking the advantage of the moment he peppered her face with kisses, her forehead, cheeks, that spot that made her squirm against him at the base of her neck.

She had adjusted to sit on a chair in the dining room.

“Ernest,” she breathed pulling him close. “Is it bad that just being here, I wish our baby was born today?”

Ernest sucked in a breath shaking his head no. Of course not, if anything he wished that she would have had their child last week. He took a sharp intake of breath for starting to kiss her lips, there fingers interwoven together.

“Every time you are with Katharine or even holding Anthony, makes me think of the dozens of children I want to have with you.”

Clara brought a hand up and cradled his cheek.

“And a dozen babies we will have,” she said enjoying their quiet moment as the party continued around them.

Tag list: @hellooliviaolivia @noeschoices  @wildsayeed @princess-geek @perriewinklenerdie  @lilyofchoices @indescribablechoices @writerapprentice @jlpplays1 @mfackenthal @darley1101 @brightpinkpeppercorn @itsbrindleybinch @elainew13 @paisleylovergirl @symonde @fluffy-cat-whisper @adrianadmirer @am-i-invisible777 @flyawayboo

[schweeeppess]

a/n: the au I was very excited to write! Pacific Rim au! I hope you guys enjoy! I had a TON of fun writing it, and there will definitely be more installments to this au :D

----

“Three months, twelve days, and eight hours, Bruce.”

“What?”

Dick gives Bruce a bland look, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall, and continues staring.

Slowly, he repeats himself. “Three months. Twelve days. And eight hours. You’ve had me sitting on the sidelines because you couldn’t approve anyone Drift Compatible with me. For three months.” Raising a brow, he says, “  can I meet my new co-pilot, and when are we going to try the neural handshake?”

Bruce gives Dick the most unimpressed look he’s seen in a long time.

Dick cracks a smile.

“You’ll meet him—”

The door opens, then, and a teen’s head pokes through. He’s got long hair—long enough to put in a very small man-bun, Dick thinks—and pale skin. His eyes are a sky blue color that Dick vaguely remembers, and he narrows his eyes as he tries to place this kid.

“—right now, apparently.” Bruce raises an eyebrow at the teen who flushes a little in embarrassment as he closes the door behind him. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

The teen fidgets a little, then speaks. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t know you were in the middle of a meeting…”

Dick snorts, eyeing the kid, then looks at Bruce.

“This is my Drift Compatible co-pilot?” he asks. “Seriously?”

Bruce nods as the teen tenses.

“Timothy Jackson Drake, this is Richard John Grayson, your new co-pilot.”

Timothy Drake. I know that name.

Frowning as he tries to remember just where he knows that name from, Tim sticks his hand out to him.

Glancing at the hand, then to Tim, Dick smiles and shakes his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Tim,” he says. “My name’s Richard but you can call me Dick. I prefer it, actually.”

Tim nods.

Clearing his throat, Bruce says, “You’re scheduled to attempt a neural handshake in thirty minutes, so I suggest you spend some time getting to know each other.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” Dick replies sarcastically, letting Tim’s hand go to salute mockingly before opening the door.

“Yes, sir,” is what Tim’s response is, but he doesn’t move to follow Dick, instead awkwardly shifting once.

Dick blinks, then laughs.

“Bruce,” he says, still laughing. “He wants you to dismiss us.”

Bruce seems surprised as he says, “You’re dismissed.”

As Dick and his new co-pilot leave the room, Dick keeps laughing, throwing an arm over Tim’s shoulders.

“You’re great, kid,” he says, still smiling hard as they walk to Dick’s room. “I like you.”

Tim nods once.

“I’d hope so,” is his response as he loses all nervous and fidgety-ness. He collects himself, looking disinterested yet invested, calculating yet alive, serious but loose.

Dick’s grin widens.

—

“So, how you wanna play this?”

“What?”

“Twenty questions style?”

“Wh—”

“Twenty questions style it is!”

Tim gives his new co-pilot an exasperated look from where they sit on Dick’s bottom bunk. Dick just flashes him that grin again, and Tim rolls his eyes, relenting.

“Fine,” he says. “Twenty questions style. What’s your first question?”

Dick hums, drumming his fingers on his cheek.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

This, for some reason, makes Dick laugh. Tim raises a brow and asks him the same question.

“I’m twenty-eight,” Dick answers. Moving on from the question, he asks, “Your parents. Are they alive?”

“No.”

“Neither are mine. How old were you when they died?”

“Twelve.”

“I was nine. Kaiju?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Nah. Mobster in Gotham.”

“Sorry.”

“Me too. How’d Bruce find you?”

“Black market. You?”

“He was there when my parents died.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Where’re you from?”

“Me? Gotham. My parents? My mom was from somewhere in Asia, and my dad was American.”

“Cool.”

“You?”

“Roma, not to be confused with Romanian.”

“Neat.”

They went like that, back and forth, for about twenty minutes. When there was only ten minutes before their scheduled attempt at a neural handshake, Tim got up to crawl on his bunk—the one directly atop Dick’s—and drag his piloting uniform out of his bag.

Dick reaches under his bed for his duffel with his uniform, then rolls off his bed and stands up.

“You know,” Dick says, stripping his shirt off, “we should probably hang these somewhere.”

Tim makes a noise of agreement, dropping off the bunk to the ground, and starts to change too.

“I am, like, ninety percent sure I have a closet here,” Dick continues.

Snorting, Tim asks, “Haven’t you been here for three months?”

“Yep.”

Tim just shakes his head and finishes stripping down to his boxers, revealing his lithe muscles.

Dick wolf-whistles jokingly, and Tim rolls his eyes as he steps into his black compression suit, Dick doing the same with his own.

“These are uncomfortable,” Dick complains just for the sake of conversation. “So tight.”

Tim shrugs. “They’re not that bad,” he says. “And, either way, shouldn’t you be used to skin-tight stuff, mister ex-trapeze artist?”

Chuckling, Dick replies, “You got me there.”

Tim smiles a little and they both start pulling on the other, heavier, layers to their uniforms.

Once they’re all dressed, there's only two minutes before their neural handshake, and Dick slaps Tim on the back, saying, “Race you!”

He leaves his new co-pilot spluttering as he runs ahead and laughs. It’s barely much more effort to run, since their uniforms are designed to be as lightweight as possible.

“You cheater!” Tim yells after him.

Dick just laughs again in response.

They reached their Jaeger three minutes late, neither having broken much of a sweat and still completely energized.

Tim whistles at the sight of their Jaeger, and Wally walks over in his red and white boiler suit, flashing the two a smile.

“Hey, guys,” Wally greets. “I’m gonna be the technician monitoring your Drift.”

“Nice seeing you, Walls,” Dick says as he and Tim follow Wally to the cockpit.

Wally grins. “You too, Dick.”

Stepping into the Jaeger, Dick hums and looks around. He’s never been inside.

“Welcome aboard Tacit Tact,” Wally says, pocketing his hands. “We call it Tic Tac.”

“Tacit Tact,” Tim repeats, trying the name on his tongue. “I like it.”

Dick nods his agreement.

“Right, well, whenever you guys are ready, you know the drill.”

Wally leaves them after connecting them to the Jaeger, presumably to head into the monitoring station.

Approaching the right docking station, Dick glances over at Tim who's to the left.

“Ready?” he asks with a smile.

“Hell yeah,” Tim answers.

They both step in at the same time.

—

There’s… nothing, nothing at all, to prepare someone for something as intimate as Drifting. Nothing can compare to it.

All at once Tim goes from being inside the machine to being thrust into Dick’s mind. His memories and Dick’s collide like waves crashing against each other, every emotion, every experience, and every impression like raindrops drizzling in Tim’s consciousness.

It’s painful for about a minute before the memories easily and fluidly start to blend and mix. Tim knows everything—everything—there is to know about Dick, his co-pilot—but, now, something much more intimate than just the title of co-pilot, because that can’t quite accurately grasp the depth there is to sharing everything about yourself with someone else—and Dick knows everything there is to know about him.

Their thoughts, their memories, and their souls easily fuse.

The co-pilots open their eyes, and they hear the computer announce, “Pilot to pilot connection: engaged. Two pilots drifting in neural bridge.”

As if to confirm what the computer had said, Dick and Tim raise their fists into a ready stance.

“How do you guys feel?” Wally’s voice asks, crackling into their speakers.

In response Dick and Tim laugh.

—

Walking back to their room is peaceful, Tim thinks. He and Dick have reached a certain level of comfort with each other—a normally unattainable range of absolute and complete trust—that they didn’t have before, and might never have had if they hadn’t drifted together. Now they’re thicker than blood.

“Your parents weren’t around,” Dick hums, and Tim nods.

“You have a stuffed elephant named Zitka,” Tim says.

Dick nods. “I do.”

Stopping outside their room, Dick holds his hand out to Tim, who shakes it.

“It’s nice meeting you, little brother.”

Little brother.

Tim can get used to that.

Abruptly there’s a very dramatic gasp and Tim turns to look over his shoulder.

Dick rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“Dick!” Some guy Tim’s never seen before gasps, clutching a hand over his heart dramatically. He’s built—reminds Tim of Bruce, but not quite there—and has a white patch of hair in his otherwise ink-colored hair. His eyes are green, he’s about Bruce’s height, and there’s a scar on his neck, but Tim still doesn’t recognize him.

“Hey, Jason,” Dick greets with a smile, slipping his hand out of Tim’s as he moves to hug Jason. “I was wondering when you were gonna pop up.”

Jason makes a noise at the hug, but pats Dick twice on the back.

“You know me,” he says with a slight shrug. “I’ll be around eventually.” Green eyes flicking over Tim’s way, he asks, “Who’s the kid?”

Tim raises a hand and waves.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” Jason answers.

Stepping back, Dick turns to Tim.

“Tim, meet Jason, the first little brother I ever had. Jason, meet Tim, my new little brother and yours too,” he introduces.

Tim quirks an eyebrow at Jason and holds a hand out. “Nice to meet you, Jason.”

Jason nods and shakes his hand. “You too, Tim…?”

“Drake.”

Jason nods again. “Todd.” Glancing over at Dick once the handshake’s over, Jason gestures to Tim with a thumb and asks, “Co-pilot?”

“Yup,” Dick answers, popping the ‘p’ happily.

“Fresh.” Jason looks to Tim, asks, “How’d the Drift go?”

Tim shrugs. “Good.”

“Great,” Dick amends. “Easier than breathing.”

“Fucking finally, Grayson,” Jason teases, elbowing Dick. “Thought you’d never get a co-pilot.”

Dick snorts, and Tim turns to walk away, as Dick’s saying, “Look who’s talking. You still don’t have one, do you?”

“Oh, fuck off. All the guys they tried matching my head with were soft.”

Tim misses what Dick says next, disappearing into their room and climbing up to his bunk.

Flopping down on his back, Tim breathes a long sigh and closes his eyes, feeling drained to the marrow in his bones now that the adrenaline has faded. He hears Dick and Jason walk into the room and assumes Jason occupies one of the other bunk beds in their large room, but he doesn’t move and promptly dozes off.

When he dreams, he walks through memories that aren’t his own.

He’s standing on a platform several feet above the ground in a large tent, three people standing in front of him. Tim turns and looks around, noting the cheering crowds and banners hanging, and realizes where he is as he returns his attention to the little boy standing between his parents.

The little boy is Dick, and this was the night his parents died.

Tim remembers this. He remembers watching the flying Graysons fall victim to gravity and cut cables. He remembers the scream, above all the others, that rattled him to his very core. The scream of a boy who lost it all.

He remembers it.

Just not from this perspective.

As the older two Graysons take to the trapeze and leave their excited son standing on the platform, Tim walks forward and sits down next to where the boy stands, letting his feet dangle off over the edge.

“You’re going to miss them,” Tim says, watching Mary and John Grayson fly together, doing feats no human should be able to do.

The little boy looks at him questioningly, and Tim adds, “Soon.”

The crowd roars with cheers, and Tim remembers hearing the very sound before two birds had their wings clipped mid-flight.

He grabs Dick and hugs him close to his chest, hiding the boy’s face on his chest, and watches as the wire snaps and Mary falls with her husband, her hand outstretched to her son.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says.

Dick cries against his chest.

—

When Dick dreams, he walks through memories that aren’t his own.

He’s standing in a house too big to be so lifeless, the lights out and the air too warm for comfort, the room he stands in like something out of a horror book with all it’s neglected-looking pictures.

Dick walks out of the room, looks around, then heads upstairs. He passes several doors, turns down into a hallway, and walks past more doors, observing everything as he goes.

Dick stops outside a door like all the other ones he’d passed before it.

Then he opens it, and steps into the room.

Sitting there, on his bed and looking out the window, is a small boy in a room too big and empty to be his alone.

“Hi,” Dick says, walking over and sitting with him.

The boy peels his eyes off the window and turns them to Dick.

He recognizes that blue.

“Hi,” Tim answers, looking back at the window.

As he sits down beside Tim on the bed, Dick says, “You’re Tim.”

“M-hm.”

“Why are all the lights off?”

Tim shrugs. “Mom and Dad forgot to pay the bills.”

Raising a brow, Dick asks, “Plural?”

Tim nods. “Plural. They do it a lot, but that’s okay. They always pay them before they get back.”

Humming, Dick looks around the room.

“This is your room?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

It’s hard to believe, the room is so plain, but Dick nods anyways.

Quiet falls over them for a little while, Tim still looking out the window, Dick now with his eyes closed and lying back on Tim’s bed.

“I don’t think they love me,” Tim eventually says. “They say they do whenever we go to Mr. Wayne’s galas, but I don’t think they really love me.”

“Why not?” Dick asks without opening his eyes.

“Because they leave. Moms and Dads don’t leave their kids, right? That’s not what they do?”

Dick opens his eyes to see Tim looking at him with nothing but sadness and grief in his eyes no child should know.

“No,” he says, sorrow heavy in his tone. “It’s not what they do.”

Tim looks for something in Dick’s eyes then nods and looks back out the window.

“Okay. That’s okay.”

Heart heavy with pain for the boy who was deprived of love, Dick reaches out to pull him close and hug him.

Tim offers no protest as he curls up as small as he can against Dick’s side, and Dick in turn wraps around Tim as much as he comfortably can, his face in Tim’s hair as the boy trembles in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whispers.

When Tim starts to cry, Dick just keeps holding him.

—

Tim wakes up twice, once to change out of his uniform, and the second time because his internal clock still set to the timer he had for himself when he was scavenging on the streets after the Kaiju attacks. The second time he wakes up, Tim sits up with his back to the wall and waits for his brain to load.

In the bed beneath him, Dick snores softly.

Relaxing a little at knowing his co-pilot is nearby, Tim starts to look around the room with four other bunk beds. Their bed is in the back of the room, tucked into the leftmost corner, and there’s a bunk bed across from them, and one also pressed to the same wall Dick and Tim’s is, to their right.

In the one immediately across from theirs, the top bunk is bare, nothing on it, and Tim assumes whoever has the bottom bunk still doesn’t have a co-pilot. Glancing at the bottom bed, Tim sees Jason. The older boy is also asleep, chest rising and falling evenly, and Tim snorts at the knowledge that Jason sleeps with his mouth open.

Turning his attention to the bunk to Tim’s right, he sees some Hispanic kid asleep on the top bunk, and can’t get a good look at whoever’s on the bed beneath him, if there’s someone on the bottom bunk.

On the bed across from Hispanic kid’s is a black kid, and he’s awake too. Tim decides to talk to him after glancing at the brown kid in the bunk, asleep, under the black one’s.

Finally, there’s a boy with an air mattress between Jason’s bunk and kid-Tim-still-needs-to-talk-to’s.

Survey of the area complete, Tim’s eyes flick over to meet the other kid’s.

“Hey,” Tim greets quietly.

“Hi,” the other boy replies just as quiet.

“Who are you?”

“Duke Thomas.” Duke narrows his eyes, inspecting Tim. “Who are you?”

Tim gestures to the bed beneath his. “Dick’s co-pilot. Tim Drake.”

Duke hums and nods. “Cool. He’s been waiting to get into the action.”

Snorting, Tim says, “Me too.” Eyes turning to the boy in the bed under Duke’s, Tim asks, “Who’s he?”

“Who?”

Tim nods at who he means, and Duke says, “Oh, that’s Damian. Cassandra Cain’s co-pilot.”

Surprise flits through Tim.

“Damian Wayne?” he asks, and Duke nods.

Gesturing to the Hispanic kid across from him, Duke introduces him as Kyle Rayner, and the boy that’s apparently in the bed under his Conner Kent. Then he tells Tim the kid in the air mattress is named Jon Kent.

Frowning, Tim says, “Conner and Jon co-pilots?”

Duke shakes his head.

“Nah, Conner is Kyle’s co-pilot. Jon’s co-pilot is Maya Ducard.”

“If they’re brothers, why aren’t they co-pilots?”

“Adopted brothers.”

“Oh.” Tim nods once, then hops off his bed. Duke jumps down too.

Tim asks if there’s a closet, and Duke gives him a Look.

“What?” Tim asks indignantly.

“Dude, our closet is fucking huge. You could fit, like, two bunk beds in there. Or maybe just one and Jon’s bed.” Duke waved a dismissive hand as he led Tim to the closet. “You see my point.”

Pointing to the door as it slid open, Duke says, “Right there. Our little spaces have our names.”

Duke leaves, then, and Tim walks into the closet that resembles a sports team locker room.

Tim snorts, walking deeper into the room, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and glances at the other occupied nooks as he goes.

Kyle! is written across the top of one in green paint, Kon in bright red on another, Jon then a smiley face in blue, Dames in black, Jaybird in crimson, then there are three blank and empty spaces near the back. Two empty ones on the left, next to Dames, and one empty one next to Jaybird.

On the floor is a closed can of golden, blue, and orange paint.

Tim stares at them for a few seconds, then puts his duffle on the bench behind him and starts to take clothes out of the bag.

—

Dick wakes up after Duke, Damian, and Jason, like always.

But he feels… weird. Like a piece of him is missing.

He makes a face as he cracks his eyes open, rolling over to face Jason’s bunk, and squints when he sees his little brothers all huddled on Jason’s bed.

Yawning, Dick decides it’s too early for him to really care about whatever they’re talking about. He moves his blanket and throws his legs off the bed, sitting up and scrubbing at his eyes as he does.

“Where’s Tim?” is the first thing he says, which surprises himself as much as it does his roommates.

Jason snickers a little, but Duke and Damian—both with co-pilots of their own—seem to understand, and Dick thinks that this is how they must feel every time they wake up separate from their co-pilots—like a piece of them is missing.

“The closet,” Duke answers.

Dick blinks. “Oh,” he says.

Digging around under his bed for his shoes and duffle bag, Dick stands and Duke points him in the general direction of the closet.

“That’s what that room is,” Dick says to himself as he walks over to it.

Jason, Duke, and Damian quietly laugh behind him.

Stepping into the closet, Dick calls, “Tim?”

He sees him a second later, and Tim looks over, nodding when he sees him.

“Morning,” Tim greets, returning to his prior task of hanging his clothes and putting them in the cabinets.

Dick smiles as he walks over. “Good morning, little brother.”

A small smile touches Tim’s lips as Dick sets his duffle down on the bench and starts taking his clothes out to organize them.

It’s peacefully quiet between them as they do their tasks, Dick humming a song to himself as his hands move, Tim folding and hanging clothes beside him, and the feeling of disconnect is gone now that he’s with his co-pilot.

They’re two halves of a whole now.

“How’d you sleep?” Tim suddenly asks.

Easily responding, Dick replies, “I had a weird dream-thing. I don’t know what to call it.”

“One of my memories?”

Dick glances over at Tim and studies him. The guess was good and on the money. Tim probably had one of those dreams too, and Dick is surprised when he realizes he’s not disturbed by it in the least bit.

”Yeah,” he hears himself say. “We spoke in your room.”

Tim nods, turning to hang his compression suit.

“We spoke too, kinda,” Tim says, tone betraying nothing.

Nodding once, Dick puts his shoes away.

It’s only quiet until Dick remembers something.

“You were there,” he breathes, freezing. “When my parents died.”

Tim doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then, “Yes.”

Turning to look at Tim, Dick squints. “I’d met you and your dad, before the show, right? We took a picture.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

Raising a brow and turning to face Dick, Tim answers, “Because I didn’t see the point? What did you want me to say, ‘Oh, hey, by the way, remember that really traumatic and horrible time your parents died? Yeah? Cool well I saw that too so trauma buddies!’” Tim rolls his eyes, putting his duffle bag away. “For some reason, that doesn’t sound like an appropriate thing to say to someone you’ve just officially met.”

Dick stares at Tim and it goes quiet as Tim meets his gaze.

Then Dick laughs.

Tim rolls his eyes again, smiling faintly, and comments, “You’re fucking mental.”

“Ah, damn fucking straight,” Dick replies, smiling brightly as he claps Tim on the shoulder. “But we’re fucking mental, oh co-pilot of mine.”

Shrugging, Tim says, “I can live with that.”

Laughing again, Dick shakes his head and turns to finish putting his stuff away.

“Hey, losers!”

Dick and Tim look over at the door, where Jason’s leaned halfway in, and Jason laughs a little to himself before saying, “Breakfast’s in ten, so I’d recommend you hurry your asses up if you want to have something to eat that isn’t grits.”

Then he’s gone, and Dick makes a face.

“I like grits,” Tim says, raising a brow when Dick shakes his head. “What?”

“Not these grits you don’t. Believe me.” Finishing up, Dick adds, “They’re called Cat 4’s for a reason.”

Confused, Tim doesn’t say anything, and Dick decides to help explain.

“Category 4-grade shits, little bro.”

Tim opens his mouth, then a disgusted look twists his face and he’s shoving Dick toward the door.

“I am not eating something nicknamed after Kaiju shit,” he says vehemently. “Move it, Grayson.”

Dick laughs, saying, “Calm down, Tim. Jason was going to save us some food if we were late.”

“Move it, Grayson.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick shakes Tim’s hands off his back and starts jogging out the door to the closet, then directly out the door of their room. He doesn’t wait up for Tim, knowing the younger boy is right behind him, and picks up the pace a little as he runs for the cafeteria. They pass Garth, from the research division, and Cassie, from Diana Prince’s Jaeger division, both holding their own breakfast trays.

Dick waves as he passes, and they call greetings.

When they reach the cafeteria, Dick shoves the double-doors open and smiles, turning to look at Tim briefly.

“Welcome to our Division, Tim.”

Tim ignores him and practically runs to the breakfast line.

Huffing in exasperation, Dick follows him.

“You ruined my moment!” he yells.

“Moment later, food now!”