#i never saw batman losing his posture like that

[colossrat]

Anyone interested in the superficial lives of Gotham's socialites knows what a chicken Bruce Wayne is. This is a persona that Bruce puts a lot of effort into as no one would think that a playboy like him would be Batman, he's too busy kissing and making bad jokes with hot people.

That said, he is careful not to repeat the people he spends a night with. He makes mental notes to only be seen in public with this person again after a semester maybe

But one day, he finds himself forced to attend a party alone. The women he planned to flirt with and appear in front of the paparazzi just did not show up and he finds himself needing to pull someone to his side. He watches every corner of the room intently, looking for people he hasn't hung out with in the last six months, only for his eyes to be reluctantly locked on an oddly familiar, yet unfamiliar man.

This would be Clark Kent aka Superman, disguised as a high society figure looking for information from Lex Luthor and perhaps some gossip for the daily planet. Changing his posture, clothes, a fake earring and wig he SURPRISINGLY passes off very well as a shy playboy who has a lot of money but little attitude.

Outcome? After Bruce stares at Clark for 20 minutes mentally cursing himself while trying to remember WHERE he could know that guy, his mind suddenly wanders to memories of another strong man with a jaw as sharp as his, and he subtly finds himself thinking, "He kind of looks like Superman...?" and then once again “I never got with him? Strange” because IN FACT he has already effectively flirted with all the gay bi pan or any men from Gotham's high society who would subtly remind him of his co-worker.

Clark, breaking into a cold sweat (not really) thinking that Bruce Wayne was suspicious of him because of his farm boy attitude, begins to sweat even colder (not really) when the prince of Gotham approaches with a charismatic smile  and an extra drink, sticking to himself for the rest of the night with stupidly bad but very effective flirting. He finds himself laughing awkwardly as Bruce eats him with his eyes from head to toe.

But no matter how much Wayne flirted with that guy, making him blush, laughing like an idiot with those hands without knowing where to stop, he couldn't get ONE PHOTO. Clark was just very good at turning his face away at the right time, or covering up, hiding like a little mouse. Bruce thought it was strangely cute, but MY GOD, what's the harm in letting yourself be part of a little gossip? He needed an alibi that he was at that party before going around like Batman beating up some bad guys, but Kent wasn't cooperating at all. None of his photos would be in any gossip magazine if they weren't newsworthy like “Bruce Wayne caught swapping spit with mysterious playboy from Gotham”

Normally it wouldn't be that difficult for him, normally it wouldn't be difficult at all. This made him strangely motivated and curious about his new friend. However, he was never really able to find out more, as Clark left the party in the blink of an eye when he heard some crimes nearby.

In the end, Bruce had to cause a scene by pretending to be drunk to get the flashes in his direction. Nothing that showing your underwear while taking a shower in a decorative fountain won't solve.

This happened and months passed, to this day Bruce feels stupid for not having gotten that man's contact, also wondering how he disappeared from the face of Gotham since he never saw him again. But he wasn't a villain or informant since nothing happened in any way related to that party after that. So he wasn't a bad guy? Who was he???

Sometimes he thinks about it before going to sleep, losing the will and going to spend three hours in the Batcave researching the socialites who have already set foot in Gotham and trying to find this handsome man that he couldn't figure out.

im sleepy so maybe this is messy

[hohoz]

I never read comics before so I bought a Kindle and I'm tryin to change that, the hard part about this is that I don't know the correct order to do so.

So I downloaded some old comics and there was THIS (?), I saw this before but reading and understanding what was going on makes 1000x better.

Wonderbat is always going to be a pleasure to read, AND PLEASE if u know some issues that they have some moments, leave a comment plz.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 21: Apologies (Father’s Day)

AO3

Prev

Marinette purses her lips as she looks at the neatly wrapped package in her hand. She knew she should still give it to her dad, shouldn’t let her hurt over the Gala stop her from celebrating Father’s Day with him for the first time. She’d already gotten confirmation from her Maman that her present for her Papa had arrived. So that was taken care of. A small part of her, the petty part, wanted to use Kaalki and go back to Paris for Father’s Day. But she also didn’t want to hurt her dad, no matter how much he’d hurt her. She had to be better than that, she is Ladybug after all. Sighing, she drops the present onto her bed. Grabbing the rest of what she needed for a movie night at one of Jason’s safe houses, she rushes out of her room. She knew that her dad’s conversation with Superman in the Batcave wouldn’t last too long, and then he’d be looking for her and Damian to lecture the hell out of them. Unfortunately for him, neither of them planned to be around to listen to it. 

“Got everything Pixie Pop?” Jason asks as she rushes down the last of the steps, barely stopping herself from falling. She quickly balances herself and shoots her brother a small grin. 

“Yup. Let’s go before I can get grounded.” She says, rushing past him and out the door, grinning as she hears his loud cackles behind her. It will get better. She’d talk to her dad eventually, and shove the bad feelings away. But she was going to let herself mope for another day. After all, letting herself feel negative emotions was part of the reason her parents agreed to let her stay in Gotham for the summer. 

---

“What do you mean there’s an entire movie about you and Cat boy?” Jason asks, shoving another cookie in his mouth. Marinette shrugs. 

“I mean we have a movie. It’s not my favorite, it’s kind of ridiculous. None of it is accurate. Except, Adrien did voice Chat Noir for the movie...still not sure why he thought that was a good idea.” She says, thinking back to the original premiere of the movie and all of the drama that came with it. 

“Well shit. He’s not the brightest kid, is he?” Jason asks with a snort. Marinette opens her mouth to argue, then remembers some of Adrien’s….less brilliant moments. Okay, so maybe he’s not perfect.

“Ya know, we were once cast as Ladybug and Chat Noir in a music video.” She says, snorting at the look on Jason’s face. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding. Really? Kid, please tell me you didn’t go through with it.” He says, looking mildly distressed. Marinette just rolls her eyes. 

“No, we didn’t. The concept for the video changed and so no more hero costumes. I was terrified though. Kept losing the mask on purpose ‘cause I was convinced the mask would be what gave it away.” She admits with a small laugh. 

“Ya know, that’s almost as bad as the time that someone at WE thought it’d be a good idea to enter B in a Batman look alike contest. Sent in his photo and everything.” Jason says with a snort. Marinette’s jaw drops.

“Wait, really?” She asks. He nods. 

“Yup. But that’s not the best part.” He says. Her eyebrows furrowed together. What could possibly be better- Oh. No, oh my-

“He lost, didn’t he!” She cheers, laughing at Jason’s huge smile. 

“Of course he did! You didn’t really think Brucie Wayne could ever be THE Batman, did you?” He asks with a smirk. 

“Who entered him?” Marinette asks, kind of assuming that Jason did it with Tim’s computer. 

“No one could ever prove anything, but Lucius Fox couldn’t stop smiling for weeks after it happened.” Jason says. 

“No way, Lucius Fox? Oh my god!” She starts laughing again, the negative feelings from earlier almost completely gone. Disappeared. Times like these, she was beyond relieved that she wasn’t an only child anymore. She doesn’t know how she’d ever function again without her brothers and Cass. 

---

Bruce takes a deep breath before knocking on Marinette’s door. He’d spent some time talking to Clark in an attempt to calm down. He still couldn’t believe his two youngest children had gone to the Watchtower without permission...well, he could believe that Damian went. But not Marinette. And then there was her attitude towards him at the Tower. Her posture was very Damian, but her words and tone were very much Jason. He couldn’t decide if he was glad that they were bonding, or frustrated with the way his sons were corrupting his daughter. Not hearing an answer on the other side of the door, he knocks again. 

“If?” He says. Alfred nods. 

“Marinette, I know you’re angry, but shutting yourself away in your room is not the answer. I’ll give you ten more minutes, but then we need to talk about your behavior today.” He says, nodding to himself. That sounded good. That was right, right?

“I’m certain that wouldn’t work on Miss Marinette even if she was in her room, Master Bruce.” Alfred says, giving him an unimpressed look. Bruce’s eye twitches. 

“Indeed, sir. It seems that Miss Marinette will not be sleeping at the manor tonight.” He says, turning to walk away. 

“And I’m assuming you know where she is?” Bruce says, doubting that Alfred will actually give up her location. He’d definitely been picking the kids’ side the last two weeks or so. It was different, and he wasn’t fond of the change. 

“Of course I do, sir.” Alfred says, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge. 

“Will you tell me where she is?” He asks, trying hard not to huff when Alfred shakes his head. 

“Of course not, sir.” He says before walking away. Right. So she wasn’t sleeping at the manor, but she was safe. If she wasn’t, Alfred would have told him where she was. He mentally runs through a list of possible places she could be. Dick’s apartment, one of Jason’s safe houses, the Siren’s apartment, Paris- He pales as he realizes that she could definitely be in Paris. Was she really so upset that she would go back to Paris? Would she ever come back if she left? He lets out an uneven breath. He messed up. He messed up and now she was going to go back to Paris and she’d never talk to him again. Unless- maybe she didn’t. Swallowing the guilt that appears at the thought, he pushes her door open. If she had left for Paris, she would’ve taken everything with her. The sight of her clothes and sewing supplies still scattered around the room makes him breathe a sigh of relief. She hadn’t left Not yet. He’s about to walk out when an envelope on her bed catches his eye. Frowning, he walks over and picks it up, ‘Dad’ written on it in neat cursive. Now standing by her bed, he realizes there’s also a neatly wrapped package (Batman wrapping paper) on it. He smiles, then glances back at the envelope. He opens it, smiling at the art on the cardstock. It was clearly Marinette’s art, but he was confused why it was addressed to him. 

‘Dad, I just wanted to let you know that I’m so happy you’re my Dad, and I’m so glad that I got to meet you. Finding out that I was adopted was a little scary, but you’ve made sure I’ve been okay through it all. Happy Father’s Day! Love, Marinette’

Bruce blinks. She was scared. If he had to guess, she was most likely scared that the family wouldn’t accept her. They’d been getting along so well, until the Gala mistake. Until he’d decided for her. Assumed she wouldn’t want to go to the Gala. And now she didn’t even want to stay at the manor tonight, and she was angry enough earlier to throw a chair at him. He pushes a hand through his hair, cursing lowly under his breath. He had to fix this. 

---

A sharp pounding at the door makes Jason leap off the couch. He holds up a finger and gestures for Marinette to hide. No one should be here. No one else knows which of his safe houses he was at today. Grabbing a gun, he walks over, glancing through the peephole. He scoffs. 

“Get the fuck outta here Bruce.” He calls through the door, watching Marinette as she immediately tenses as if she’s gonna run. He shakes his head at her. She didn’t have to run, he sure as hell wouldn’t open the door if she didn’t want him to. 

“Jason, open the door. I need to talk to Marinette.” Bruce calls, Jason snorts. 

“Yeah, not gonna happen B.” He says. 

“I would like to apologize to her.” Bruce says. Jason blinks. That’s new. Did the old man finally figure out that fuck ups warrant apologies? He glances over at Marinette, raising an eyebrow. It was her call. The unsure look on her face almost makes him decide for her. Almost. The kid’d had enough of people deciding shit for her. 

“Let him in.” She says. He opens the door, glaring at the man. 

“Is it okay if he comes in?” She whispers, and Jason nods.

“Up to you kiddo.” He whispers back. She stands taller, pushing her shoulders back before nodding. 

“She’s the one who let you in. Don’t fuck this up.” He warns before stepping aside and letting Bruce walk in.

“Marinette.” He says, nodding at her. Jason groans. Yeah, B was totally gonna fuck this up. 

“Father.” She says, shifting so that her arms are crossed, a neutral expression on her face. God, he really hopes her mimicking Demon Spawn is just a phase. 

“I would like to preface this conversation by letting you know I went into your room.” Bruce says. Marinette just raises an eyebrow. Yeah, Jason wasn’t seeing the connection either. “I apologize for invading your privacy like that, Damian has definitely reminded me several times that your personal rooms are not to be messed with. However, when Alfred let me know you weren’t sleeping at the manor tonight, I was worried that perhaps you had gone back to Paris.” 

“I wouldn’t have gone back without telling you. Well, other than akuma attacks. Do you really think I’d do something like that?” She asks, frowning. 

“I know that I’ve done things I’m not proud of when hurt. Things that I came to regret. And I saw earlier today how hurt you actually are. I didn’t realize-” He pauses. “I also read the card that was on your bed.”

“What! No, that was- that was for Father’s Day.” She says with a sigh. 

“I didn’t open the gift. I originally thought the envelope would have a note from you on where you had gone. Or that you never wanted to see me again. I thought the chances were pretty even.” He says and Jason snorts. 

“Oh, okay. Wait, why would you ever think that? Yes, I was hurt. I still am hurt, if I’m being honest. But I don’t want to cut you out of my life.” She says, shaking her head. 

“Nor do I want you out of ours.” Bruce says. Marinette blinks. “I realize now what it must have looked like, to you. Not informing you about the Gala, taking the rest of the family. It was, admittedly, not my best moment. I made a decision for you when I should’ve asked you what you wanted. You could have even come with us as MDC, but I took that option away from you. I am very sorry, Marinette. I am glad that you’re my daughter, sweetheart.” He says and Jason blinks. Well shit. The old man did have feelings. Too bad no one would ever believe him if he tried to say something about it. He watches as the tension in Marinette’s body drops almost instantly before she runs over and launches herself at Bruce. She wraps her arms around him and Jason can see the way her body shakes. Bruce just stands there, staring down at the top of her head in shock. 

“You wrap your arms around her.” Jason snarks. Bruce blinks before listening, returning Marinette’s hug. Well, they were still dysfunctional as hell, but at least now he’d be able to take Pixie Pop to the manor without feeling like an asshole brother. 

---

Marinette bounces nervously in her seat as she watches her brothers hand her dad presents. She’s shocked when Jason hands over a small gift, knowing that the two’s relationship wasn’t….great. She leans forward in anticipation, watching and waiting to see what he’d picked out. 

“Thank you, Jason. Clark will never let me live this down.” Her dad says, the fondness in his tone not matching the frown on his face. He turns the box around and the room erupts in laughter. Somehow, Jason had found a company that made customizable bobbleheads. The body was probably just a stock body, dressed in civilian clothes with a superman suit peaking through the shirt. And the head, the head was hilarious. It was very obviously crafted to look like their dad, specifically with his ‘Brucie Wayne’ smile. It was awful and amazing at the same time. 

“I think Jaybird wins best gift.” Dick says with a grin. 

“Tt. Unlikely. The new katana that Cass and I gave him is obviously superior.” Damian says, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t know Damian, I still haven’t given him my present.” She points out, grinning at the slight frown on Damian’s face. 

“While I doubt your present could be better than mine, there is no doubt it will be better received than Todd’s.” Damian says. Marinette snorts at the look on Jason’s face. 

“Listen Demon Spawn, there’s this thing called humor. That’s what my gift had. I know you wouldn’t know anything about humor, so let me explain it to you.” He starts, and Marinette jumps in to cut him off before they can start arguing. It was Father’s Day, the least they could do is avoid fighting with each other for a couple more hours. 

“And this one’s from me.” She says, passing him the present wrapped in Batman wrapping paper. She grins as Tim and Dick both laugh, not having seen it before now. 

“I think Mari might win just ‘cause of the paper.” Tim admits, taking a large drink of his iced coffee that Marinette had picked up for him. She’d had to fight an akuma right before they started presents, so she’d stopped and got Tim coffee from the shop that he’d tried when they’d all been in Paris. She watches in anticipation as her dad carefully unwraps the box, opening it and pulling out the black suit jacket. He smiles at her. 

“Did you make this? It’s amazing.” He says, and her brothers nod in agreement (though Damian does so reluctantly). 

“Look at the inside of it.” She says, gesturing for him to unfold it. His eyebrow twitches, but he does as she says. She watches his face for the moment he spots it, and grins when his face drops into a wide smile. On the inside of the left side of the jacket, she’d added a breast pocket. It wasn’t really for anything though. Instead, it was so that she could embroider all of his children’s names in a way so that it would rest above his heart. The jacket also had tiny bat logos embroidered at the cuffs of the jacket. The thread was shiny and very dark so that it would barely show up against the black of the jacket. It had to be lit just right to see it, but as he tilted the jacket again, she knew he saw it. It had taken longer than suit jackets normally do for her, but it was because she knew that it had to be perfect. It was, after all, the first piece of clothing she’d made for her dad. 

“It’s perfect, Marinette.” He says softly, running a hand over the names. She lets out a sigh of relief before smiling at him. Things were still a little rough, but they were so much better than they’d been the night of the Gala. She was glad that she had stayed, that she hadn’t ran like she had so badly wanted to.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @mizzy-pop @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Don’t Tell Your Brother

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (this one’s got a bad word in it lol XD)

Original Idea: These kinds of stories are always fun. Either best friend’s big brother or big brother’s best friend... yeah, I’m weak for it. XD

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is short but sweet. At about 1,200 words, this is about the length a lot of my older one-shots were before everything started getting carried away. I’ve had it in my head for several days and finally got it written down. @jason-redhood @welovegroot

^^^^^

Knock-knock-knock!

Jason looked up from his book. $#!+, did Bruce find this place? he thought. He got up and crept to the door and looked through the peephole.

Worse. It’s Roy’s kid sister, he thought. I know you’ve liked her forever but she’s still your best friend’s little sister. And said best friend will murder your face off if he catches you flirting with her. Be cool but friendly and don’t flirt. Say something like, “Hey Harper, how you been?”

He opened the door. “Sup, brat?”

Aaand you blew it. Great job, Todd.

—

I smirked. “Not much, how about you—dick?”

“Dick’s my brother’s name. I’m Jason,” he teased.

“Oh I know. If I wanted to insult you by calling you one of your brothers’ names I’d call you Tim.”

He paused. Offense crept over his expression. “That world work,” he admitted.

Both of us laughed. He leaned against the doorframe. “So I’m guessing you’re looking for Roy?”

“Guessed right. Seen him?”

“He’s passed out in the spare room, sleeping off a hangover.”

My face dropped. “Has he been drinking again?”

Jason hunched his shoulders and cringed guiltily. “Well… it was my birthday like a month ago and Roy couldn’t come to Gotham to celebrate with me so since he was dropping by we decided to…” He cleared his throat. “Well. We went to karaoke.”

I snorted so hard I hurt my throat. “Karaoke. You took my tone-deaf brother to karaoke?”

“In my defense it was one of those private room places. So no one had to hear it. And the tablet that lets you pick the songs also lets you order drinks from the front. We thought we’d just get a margarita and call it good; but Roy ordered me another one for my birthday and after that we lost track. I tend to hold my liquor better than he does, so… yeah he’s sleeping off a hangover and I’m not as bad.” He shrugged. “Come on in. Let me get you something to drink. Water? Tea? Soda? Coffee?”

“Water’s fine,” I said. Jason let me into his apartment and I stood awkwardly on the welcome mat.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable!” He waved toward the sofa as he walked to the kitchen.

I stared at his back. His blue T-shirt stretched taut between his shoulder blades. The way his jeans hugged his thighs tight enough to show off his muscles but loose enough to be comfortable.

I stumbled to the couch and sat down. Get a hold of yourself, Harper, I thought harshly. He’s your brother’s best friend! It doesn’t matter how hot you think he is—Roy will kill you if he catches you flirting with him!

Jason came and sat on the other end of the sofa, handing me a water bottle. “Alright. I gotta ask. Batman doesn’t even know I have this place. How did you?” He draped his arm over the back of the sofa so his hand was inches from my shoulder.

“Roy told me. Said if he went MIA and didn’t check in I should look for him in a couple different places. I knew he was in Gotham so I figured I’d check here. I haven’t heard from him in almost a day so I came running. Wanted to make sure he wasn’t, you know, dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Nah. Not on my watch.” Jason fixed me with a stare. “You’re a good sister to him, brat.”

I snorted. “Do you ever change?” I asked. “Always mean to me!”

“I’m not mean to you—I’m teasing you. I’m a big brother too, I know the difference.”

“You absolutely do not. I’ve watched the way your family works. All of you were an only child before being thrown together as siblings and none of you inherently knew how to handle it. I was adopted too—but since it was when I was a baby and Roy was little he learned how to be a brother fast and I never knew anything but being a little sister. Believe me when I say, you’re not teasing. You’re being mean.”

Jason lounged with a characteristic devil-may-care posture. “Well. Maybe I’d like to be nice to you but I’m scared that if your brother saw me being nice he’d misconstrue it as flirting and murder my face off. Did that ever occur to you?”

“Why would it?” I retorted. “You’ve never been nice to me. Mildly friendly when Roy’s not around maybe, but never nice. Doesn’t matter how hot you are if your personality is that of a—” I cut myself off and swore under my breath as an impish smirk started pulling on Jason’s face. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant was—”

“Little Harper thinks I’m hot,” Jason interrupted, tone full of relish.

I rolled my eyes. “This was a mistake. Tell Roy I’m staying at Daisy’s.” I got up and stalked to the door.

Jason somehow beat me to it, blocking my path. The guy had to be over two-hundred pounds. No way I could shove him out of the way. I was strong for my size—but not that strong. Not when his feet were planted like that. “Come on, Harper. I’m just messing with you.” He was still smirking, arms crossed over his chest in the way boys did to make their arm muscles look bigger. I wondered, vaguely, if his shirt sleeves hurt him where they were digging into his muscles at the seams.

“Let me out,” I said flatly. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

Jason sighed, dropping his arms and pushing his hands into his pockets. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I run my mouth a lot. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings.” He huffed. “Can I tell you something?”

“I have no choice. I can’t leave. You’re in the way.”

Jason glanced at the ceiling with a tiny smile. “True.” His expression turned grave. “Truth of the matter is, I find you… really attractive. Have ever since we first met.” If it weren’t Jason Todd, I would have thought his face was turning red. “I guess you could say I have a crush on you. I just never said anything because I know Roy wouldn’t approve.”

“You’d think he would,” I remarked. “You’d think he’d know both of us well enough to know whether or not we’d actually work well with one another.”

“You’d think,” Jason said.

Well, he admitted it first. Nothing to lose now, I thought. “For what it’s worth,” I said, “I have a crush on you, too.”

His face lit up. “Really?” I nodded. He gathered me into a hug. “That’s all I could have ever hoped for.” He glanced over the top of my head toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms, then looked back at me. “Can… can I kiss you?” He bit his lower lip, looking awkward.

I smiled. “You can,” I said with a smile.

Beaming, he leaned down. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell your brother.”

Then he was kissing me. His body was warm where he was pressed against me and his lips were soft. I took a deep breath through my nose as I wrapped my arms around him, eyelids fluttering closed. He smelled musky and a bit citrus-y and I could taste his chapstick. Vanilla, if I wasn’t mistaken.

Our arms tightened around one another. Jason tilted his head for a better angle and cooed softly. I sighed. Content.

He pulled away after several long moments. “I think we have some things to talk about, Harper.”

“We absolutely do, Todd,” I replied.

[internalsealpanic]

Work In Progress

summary: Your best friend calls you in the middle of the night telling you to meet him at his new pent house. Not finding anything strange about this you comply and meet him there where a 5(?) year old proceeds to threaten you with a kitchen knife. 

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

a/n: This is a mini scenario for the Dick Grayson x Merc! Reader. This is set during that time when Dick was batman. 

“Grayson, who is this woman?”

 You blatantly ignore  Damian “Wow, Dickenson, when you said he was rude you weren't kidding.” Dick grimaces  as he can already sense these two won't get along. You and Damian size each other up. You enjoy towering over the little gremlin. 

“Hey baby vamp, the name's (y/n),”

 “My name is Damian, you will address me as such, and that doesn't answer my question.”He snarls. There's an easy to miss glint of amusement in your eyes and a pinching in your brow. You can tell Dick and Damian are both pretty apprehensive about this from the tightness in their shoulders, the frown on Damian's face, and the slump in Dick's usually open posture. You’ve  been here before. You can do this. Not first or the last brat that will test your patience. 

“I'm Dick's-uh- friend and I'll be helping him out a little, considering-”flourishing your hand ever so vaguely ”And since you were rude, you'll have to earn the right to be called by your name,”

“Or I could just rip your throat out,”

You level him an unimpressed look, eyes half lidded almost sleepy. “Baby vamp, you're gonna have to do better than that if you wanna scare any of Flippy's friends least of all me,”

Even with the knife's point pressed to the thin flesh of your throat, all you could focus on was just how amusingly angry he was. The image of a dirty red hoodie briefly flashed in your mind  and some part of you withered at the memory. Unbeknownst to you the slip of memory was betrayed in the slightest tightening of your lips. There was a heavy coil of tension settling on the room as you two stared at each other. Neither of you is willing to back down. The slow, casual drumming of your fingers against the granite top carrying their collective nerves higher and higher. 

"Master Damian, I do hope that isn't how you intend to greet all of our guests." The tension in the room is suffused with Alfred's entrance. Damian lowered the blade making an odd 'tt' sound. 

"Ms. (y/n), I hope you don't intend to antagonize him" Alfre said, directing a look of stiff disappointment. 

"Tim and Jason were both ok with their nicknames" she dismissed in a half hearted defense. 

"Speaking of which where is Timbers?" You lied.  Dick let a little air out of his nostrils in place of the laugh caught in his chest. He could only imagine how frustrated Tim would be when he discovers he still hasn't shed his nickname. 

"I assume Master Richard hasn't properly briefed you on the situation,"

"Does he ever?” Dick gave you the ‘how dare you’ look while you simply shrugged taking a bite out of the sandwich you had made. “Nope, got home after a nice night out, opened my phone to a couple of voicemails telling me he needed help, and here I am making both of us a sandwich in the middle of the night with a crotch gremlin pointing a butter knife at my throat. What am I missing here, Mr. Pennyworth?"

Alfred sent Dick, what you considered,  a satisfyingly withering look which made him age, at least, 30 years. The poor man was going to age 100 years by dawn. "Well, to start off Bruce is- well, he's not here-" this got your brows to shoot up. "-Tim's gone off somewhere and well, I've taken over as Batman" 

"Well that's certainly a turn of events. And the crotch gremlin?"

"Bruce's"

"Bruce's" you repeat obviously bewildered as if the repetition could make it make sense. 

You look at Damian again. He glares at you with as much visceral contempt as he could. You turn to Alfred. 

"He's too lively,"

"Ok,  he scowls like him, but so did Dick when he was microbial," 

"Hey!"

"You're right. You still scowl like a 5 year old when you lose at air hockey" He makes an affronted noise. “At least, I didn’t punch the crane machine,” You glare at him and Alfred, again, ages. 

 “Anyway, what d'ya  need me to do Fly Boy?”

“She just never calls anyone by their name does she?”

 “Nah, she's just cranky?”

 “Well?” You prompted putting a hand on your hip and mentally noted to shove his sandwich down his throat before you go home. Dick could see the murder in your eyes. He knew he had to pick his next few words carefully. Sure, you retired from being a merc but you were still deadly as hell, hot but still deadly.  

“I am going to ask you a huge favor. It's temporary til I've worked something out-” 

“You want me to check up on Haven, don't you?”

Dick nods sheepishly looking at you with earnest blue eyes which he knew would work on you even if you saw it coming. 

 “Manipulative bastard” you hiss under your breath as you pinch your nose. Your shoulders rose then sunk then slumped. “Fine but you do understand I can't do that full time?”

“I know,” He said, trying not to look smug. “Thank, boo, you’re the best,” Dick said, giving you one of his patented Grayson hugs and a sloppy peck on the cheek as thanks(?). Dick was a usual still overly affectionate with you. Not that you really minded. You roll your eyes and look at the brat who was still glaring at you and you could already feel yourself getting sucked into co-parenting the kid. It was inevitable. 

Getting sucked back into the life of capes and cowls wasn’t your idea of a Friday night but because your best friend's family is a clusterfuck and a half you weren’t exactly gonna turn him down. Not when he had eye bags running down his dumbass face. 

Thanks for reading!

tag list: 

@idkmanicantenglish

@birdy-bat-writes

@batarella

@anothertimdrakestan (I thought you might like tiny Dami)

[littleoddwriter]

Scared of Losing You | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

"Hello there! Your Roman X Reader fics are awesooome! And I want to suggest a request: an Roman Sionis X Male Reader when the reader is caught in a fight between Sionis, the Joker and the Bat family, and gets badly hurt (Joker 's fault). Roman had to deal with the Batman to save his love from death - Angst and fluff at the end + The Batman trying to save reader as he sees him as the only person who can calm Roman. Thanks in advance!!!" @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama

A/N: Thank you so much! That means a lot! <3 I really hope you like it and that I managed to do your idea justice! Thanks so much for this delightful request!!

summary; Basically what it says above: You’re badly hurt by the Joker, Batman helps you and Roman basically, Roman is afraid of losing you.

notes; TW/CW // Hospital; Severe Injuries; Flesh Wounds; Broken Bones; Stab Wounds; Violence (none of these things are really explicit, though, but if any of this triggers you, please be cautious!). Male!Reader; Angst; Fluff; Anxiety; probably non-accurate descriptions of hospitals and such, because I suck; Roman’s usual nicknames for Reader in my fics.

Never in his forty-plus years of living, had Roman thought he'd end up in a situation such as this. It all happened far too fast for his liking; and in retrospect, he should have guessed this would happen. The clown just wasn't to be trusted. Nobody was. Not in this line of business anyway. The Joker had some specific connections that Roman needed in order to acquire a special kind of weaponry. Of course, upon discussing this with the clown prince of crime, he had been a little too agreeable, which should have made Roman more suspicious of him than he had been in the end. Either way, they had made a deal and discussed when and where to meet to get the business going. Now, Roman found himself in a fight with the backstabbing son of a bitch, namely the Joker, and also the fucking Batman and his little birds. Of fucking course! The latter had come in addition, as they had gotten wind of the ruckus caused by Black Mask's, and also the Joker's, underlings. It had already been bad enough, but with the bat and his birds there, Roman had been distracted, busy fighting the one and only Batman, who had gone between him and the Joker. All the while, the clown had taken the opportunity to snatch you away from the corner behind some wooden boxes, where Roman thought to have placed you safely. He hadn't thought the deal to be too dangerous, nor for it to take long, so he had allowed you to tag along, whilst being surrounded by his men. Unfortunately, those precautions hadn't been enough, when the fight had started.

Roman hadn't even noticed what had happened until he had heard your anguished screams, the agony and bone-chilling terror in your voice. His stomach turned almost painfully as he finally registered those sounds, suddenly frozen in place. Graciously the bat had noticed it too, and stopped the punch he was about to land onto Black Mask before it actually made contact with him. When he finally turned his head to seek you out, he saw the Joker looming over your bloodied, twisted and bruised figure. Rage, anxiety and hurt filled Roman to the brim. His sight narrowed in on the Joker, his vision red, his posture tense and dangerous. With a rapidly beating heart, he stepped towards you in quick, booming strides. Holding his gun against the Joker's temple, Black Mask spoke lowly, hissing his commands, "Let go of him. Right now! Or else I will blow your fucking brains out." "As if you aren't planning on doing that anyway," the Joker replied, grinning maniacally with blood splattered on his face. Your blood. "No, actually. I'm planning on fucking torturing you to death some other day. Let him fucking go. I won't fucking repeat myself!" To his chagrin, the Joker's grin only widened, especially when he noticed that Roman's hand was a little unsteady. This never fucking happened! He was a good shot! He always had steady hands! In quick succession, the clown had suddenly grabbed onto Roman's arm and twisted it, making his grip loosen and the gun clattering to the floor. Fuck! Not too long after, Roman wrenched his arm out of the Joker's hands and swung fist after fist into that ugly grimace of the other man. With sickening cracks resounding from either Roman's knuckles and the Joker's face, the Black Mask kept punching until he was suddenly pulled off the other man by a strong pair of arms. "You need to stop," the Batman growled into his ear. "Fuck you! You don't fucking tell me what to do, you fuck!" Roman yelled, trying to get out of the steel grip the bat had on him. The Joker was coughing and wheezing, as he writhed on the grimy, bloodied warehouse floor, a grin still spread on his battered face. He was dragged away by the little birds. Then Roman was suddenly let go of, and he collapsed to his knees. You laid only a few feet away from him. You hadn't moved at all, couldn't possibly. From the looks of it your one leg was broken, an open one, one of your arms was twisted sickeningly, and there was way too much blood all over you to have only been caused by those two limbs. "I'll help him," the Batman rasped, looking at Roman, who swallowed thickly, barely even looking up for a second, his mouth slack. "How? Why?" "I believe he's the only one that will keep you from going on a killing spree right now. I'll take him to the closest hospital. The staff there is really good and can be trusted, I promise. But I need to take him immediately, or else he won't make it." Cautiously, Roman looked at the bat for a few moments, assessing, then he looked back down at your mangled body and nodded weakly, whispering his broken agreement. After that, everything happened in a rush, a haze, Roman couldn't possibly piece it all together. He just knew that the Batman carefully picked up your almost lifeless, quietly whimpering, body and brought you outside to his car. He instructed his birds, Roman couldn't remember what he said, but he knew for some reason he was let off the hook that night, as Nightwing helped him away and to the hospital, after the other birds took care of the Joker and his men until the police would arrive. It certainly wasn't one of his best moments, Roman had to admit. He was trembling, unable to speak, shaken up. This wasn't like him at all. Nothing had ever made him feel quite like this. He hated it. Yet, the thought of losing you was something he hated even more. Hours and hours later, in which Roman had paced around the waiting room of the hospital, thinking up the worst possible scenarios that could have happened from then on, a doctor finally came in to update him on your status, "The surgeries were a success. There weren't any major complications. Obviously, his leg and arm were broken, quite cleanly even, so it was easy to fix those. He also suffered from some stab wounds to his abdomen and thighs, such as cracked ribs, and many bruises and open wounds due to impact from dull objects, probably. We were able to fix him up well enough, though. He's in CCU now and will be put into a general room, when he's woken up. You can go to him now, of course, Mr Sionis." "Thank you," Roman rasped, nodding curtly and then following a nurse to the CCU and your room there. As he went in, Roman had to halt for a second and take a deep, steadying breath. You looked awful, mangled, still so lifeless. Tubes and wires were connected to your body, your broken, twisted arm was in a cast and a sling, such as your hurt leg. Your body was basically all bandages, up to your neck, from what was visible to him outside the blanket and hospital gown. Your face also had some bandages and plasters on it, such as swellings in various sickening colours and some crusted blood. Roman never wanted to see you like this ever again. Thanks to his money and influence, he was allowed to stay, and you were given a sizable bed, so both of you could fit on it. Cautiously, Roman laid down on the mattress, on your 'better' side, without the broken arm and leg, which were both on your left side. He kept a few inches between himself and you, carefully lacing your hands together. Gently, he stroked his thumb over your knuckles, lifting your hand up to his face and kissing it softly. Not for the first time that night, he wondered what exactly the Joker had done to you. He wondered why he had done it. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it sooner, why he hadn't been able to stop that fuck before it had gotten so bad. Shaking his head slightly, he tried to get rid of those thoughts. They were of no use. It was done now anyway. You were still alive and that was all that mattered to him. He didn't care if you were immobile for a while, or perhaps forever. He didn't care if you had to be fed by a tube for a while, or perhaps forever. He just cared that you were still here, alive. And wasn't that a weird thing for him to feel and think- to want? Looking at you like this, he focused on your chest and it's gentle rise and fall. The proof that you were still here, still alive. The beeping of the monitors underlined it, but it wasn't the same as seeing you breathe. Even if it was helped by the tubes in your mouth and throat. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered into the nearly silent room. Roman has never told you that. He started to regret that now. It was something that didn't pass his lips easily. It was something that was tinted with lies and trauma for him and you knew that. He had explained it to you one day when the two of you had gotten into an argument about this whole thing. He knew it had hurt you that he couldn't say it back, whenever you uttered those sacred words. Neither of you had wanted to have a fight ensue, but in the end it had helped to make the two of you understand each other better. Ever since, it hasn't been a problem anymore. Yet, Roman had to admit that perhaps he should have tried harder to make those words work for you at least, after all. Even a variation of synonyms could have been an idea, but he didn't really think of that before. He couldn't be happier for you to still be alive, so he could make up for it. At least he hoped he could still say it, when you woke up. Those words always got stuck in his throat, when he had tried to say them before, and then he had given up. With a heavy sigh, he kept watching you in silence, trying to stay awake until you would finally wake up, but as time passed, his eyes slipped shut and he fell asleep next to you, your hands still intertwined. After two days of constant anxiety, regular check-ups from the doctor, and sleeping as restless as he never had before, Roman finally felt and saw you stir, your eyes fluttering open. The night before, the tubes in your mouth and throat had finally been removed, now you had breathing aids through your nose instead. "Hey, baby," Roman whispered softly, grasping your hand in his, gently stroking over it with his thumb. Blearily, you turned your head and looked at him, a grimace of pain on your face. It made Roman's heart clench painfully. A weak grumble left your lips. With a sweet kiss to your knuckles, Roman leaned over and pressed the button to call the doctor. They checked you over and then put you in your own room on the general station. There, Roman lay down next to you again, gently taking your hand into his once more. Fortunately, the doctor said you were bound to recover completely, and so far there were no complications or anything, but you would have to rest a lot. "Roman," you rasped quietly. Smiling slightly, Roman leaned into you and kissed your bruised cheeks softly. "Welcome back," he whispered against it, his lips brushing over your skin. "What even...?" "You don't remember what happened?" "Not entirely. I kind of, I- I don't know. I know we were in the warehouse to meet the Joker and that something went wrong. But I don't remember much after. The doctor said it was normal, and it would probably come back soon, though," you explained, your voice raspy and broken from not having used it and having had tubes down your throat. "Alright, 'kay. It's probably for the better that you don't remember it, right now." "Yeah, I can see why. Even through the morphine, I can feel the pain, ugh. I must have caused some shit, though. I'm sorry." "Is it bad?", you shook your head. "And don't you fucking apologise. Fuck, you haven't done anything wrong, I'm sure. I don't know exactly what happened or why he did it, but that fucking clown was suddenly on you and---" Roman couldn't continue that sentence then. The thought alone made him choke on the words, a lump forming in his throat. He swallowed thickly and squeezed your hand tightly. "Oh, alright. Are you okay, Roman?" "I'm alright. Don't fucking worry about me. Oh my fucking God, baby! I'm not the one, who is fucking attached to tubes and wires!" "Right, right, sorry!" Shaking his head, Roman leaned into you and shut you up by capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, pecking your lips repeatedly. "I was--- really fucking worried about you. I'm just glad you're alive. And especially awake again." Smiling slightly, though it pulled more into a kind of grimace, probably due to the bruises all over your face, you looked at Roman. Even though your eyes were so bleary, they held so much adoration in them. It was truly breathtaking to him. The words were climbing up his throat, wanting to get out. Roman opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it once more. Patiently, you looked at him. "For fuck's sake!" Roman muttered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them back up and looking at you with tears shining in his eyes and an open expression on his face. He heard your breath hitch. "I- fuck! I love you, Y/N. I was afraid of losing you. I never fucking want to go through that again. 'Kay?" Tears gathered in your eyes and one slipped out and down the corner of your eye. Gently, he wiped it away with his index finger. "I love you, too, Roman. So much. I- I'm glad I'm still here, as well, my love," you whispered, a watery smile gracing your chapped lips, "And I'm very proud of you for saying it, y'know?" "You better not get too used to it, my sweet boy," Roman rasped, grinning, but quickly sobered up again, "Enough of those heartfelt moments, though, ugh!" "Hmmm, not really, but yeah, okay. I'm tired anyway. I think I should sleep some more, right?" "Definitely. Go to sleep, my little prince. I'll be here when you wake up, 'kay? I promise. I'm not going anywhere." Your eyes fluttering shut, you were still smiling, when your breaths slowly evened out, while Roman was looking at you like a hawk, making sure your chest kept rising and falling, despite now having evidence of you being alright. It didn't feel like it just yet, but it would have to do. You were alive and going to be better. He just had to keep telling himself that. At least he could now sleep with the knowledge that he's been able to tell you that he loved you.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

whumptober

12 October: grief

Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent

"Could you tell me what happened?" Bruce asked.

Clark paused to consider the question, or, rather, the shape of it. In the kitchen at the lake house, steel and black marble surfaces dimly glittered from the glow of a single lamp on the windowsill. He didn't need light to see by, but he found himself almost desperately curious to parse Bruce's inquiry and, in the effort, to watch Bruce for some further clue. 'Could' had been proffered. The chosen form wasn't an order. Bruce's posture spoke of ease, as though he asked nothing tasking from the barstool opposite the one Clark sat in. What did Bruce assume he'd say; what would be the subsequent result for any given response?

Clark was rarely bothered by inclement weather. The hollow feeling in his chest was not caused by the extant temperature of the room.

“I understand Diana's the one who's concerned," he said, "and it's on me to reassure her--"

"We're all concerned." Bruce held up a hand before Clark could protest. "We know Circe didn't hurt you physically, other than throwing you into animated suspension for a few minutes to keep you busy. We don't think your ability to do your job has been compromised. We're not." He stopped and looked at Clark. "We are not worried about that." 

It seemed to Clark that Bruce struggled, just a little, on the word 'we'.  

"Circe showed me something," Clark said, feeling some part of himself begin to slip out of kilter, as if he were sinking beneath a sheet of ice, paralyzed. "Not a dream, nor a hallucination." He cleared his throat. "Or I don't think it was." 

Two heartbeats silenced, blackened agony gaping in him wide and infinite. 

Bruce had gone motionless, watching Clark with dismay plain in his expression. Bruce hated missing things, Clark knew; he would hold himself personally responsible if something had harmed Clark and he hadn't even known to try to prevent it.

Clark didn't have the energy to bear the way Bruce was looking at him, not with having slept at most no more than an hour or two at a stretch for going on two weeks. Easily remedied. He closed his eyes. 

"What she showed me, I." The words stuck. He pried and a few more came loose. "There's another universe, or timeline -- another Earth with another us." Clark took a shallow breath; an echo of pain cracked against his sternum. "And in it, I'm everything you've ever feared I could become."

He squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. His fingertips dug into his palms. 

"Whatever you think you were shown, you're not him." Bruce spoke at a pace so steady it had to be deliberate. "Clark," he said, his voice just a little sharper on the name. "You must know that." 

"It doesn't make the people he's killed less dead." Clark wanted to spit the words out like blood, but instead he'd barely raised his voice. He knew Bruce would hear anyway.

"And that's what you've been grieving," Bruce said. "That other world." 

Clark shook his head. He finally opened his eyes, to Bruce waiting with as much patience as Clark had ever witnessed from him. 

"It should be, I guess. Those victims deserve to be mourned." Clark uncurled his fingers, kept his stare on the furrows in his palms. His lungs were filled to drowning. Saltwater stung the back of his throat, his eyes. "The other me. He loses his family. It… Everything he does afterwards is because they die at his hands, or that's his excuse, anyway." 

He could feel, at the furthest edge of his senses, the way Bruce was counting his own breaths to keep from interrupting, how intensely he was listening. Clark knew it should have been a comfort, but there were all these words left, a chain of them winding around his chest in a vise as crushing as Circe's magic had ever hoped to be. 

Because Bruce was being kind and because he was his best friend, Clark managed to say, "I keeping thinking about how when I was a kid, I was scared of everything. Of being found out, of what people might do to me. Of hurting someone accidentally." Words like ropes, like rusted nails, like knives that would flay humans with the lightest pressure. "Maybe most of all, I was scared I would never have a family of my own." 

He was almost out of air. He inhaled shakily. Too late to quit. 

"I knew my parents loved me; I knew Lana and Pete loved me. The idea that I'd never find anybody to share my life with -- it was sorta more terrible than I could even let myself think about." He gave a small laugh. His cheeks were wet, and Bruce's eyes were too dark to look into. "But for all that, I never thought. I never thought it might be better if I didn't find...if it really was dangerous for people to be with me…"

As a writer, Clark weighed words constantly and therefore understood their limitations. Sometimes, however, they were all that was left of the truth. "I'm a weapon," he said, the words tumbling out like flat stones he wouldn't be able to budge once they landed. He'd closed his eyes again. "I'm not supposed to be someone's home." 

There was a noise only Clark's abilities would've caught, as though a thin blade had been cleanly slid into the most vulnerable point beneath a ribcage. He didn't catch up quickly enough to realize he himself wasn't the one who'd made the sound before Bruce said, "You haven't eaten much recently."

Clark blinked. "What?"

Bruce's expression had changed to open, neutral, downright placid. "Food, Clark."

"Ah. No. I haven't been hungry." Clark shifted on the barstool. He blinked again, wiped his face, clasped his hands together. Some strange veiled heaviness had been lifted from his peripheral vision, from his shoulders and hips. 

Bruce was stretching his legs and standing up, headed a few feet to the large refrigerator. "I should call your fretful mother and tell her you're wasting away."

"Don't. Guilt tripping me by invoking my mom is dirty pool." Was this what whiplash felt like? Clark wondered. He couldn't remember. "You don't have patrol tonight?"

"It's raining," Bruce said, like something as common in Gotham as rain was a well-known Batman deterrent.

Clark hadn't noticed the water sheeting down the windows, nor the insistent drum of a downpour on the roof; probably not the best sign of mental stability. "Pizza'd be all right, if ChowWagon will deliver out this far."

"They would. I'm Bruce Wayne," Bruce said with the flair he usually reserved for taking the piss with reporters who weren't Clark. He tugged open the bottom freezer drawer and removed a large disc. "But we already have pizza."

"Convenient. Alfred?"

"Hn. I can forage for sustenance all on my own." Bruce poked at the oven display. "I can even toss a crust and slow-simmer a red sauce." He picked at an edge of plastic wrap until he figured out how to unwrap the pizza and made a cagey face at Clark for a second. "Don't suppose you'd care to share who other-you was married to."

Clark suppressed a groan. He sighed and said, "Lois. You absolutely cannot mention it to her, ever."

Bruce quirked up an eyebrow. "Noted."

"It's not-- She's great." Clark winced. Well, she was. She was one of his smartest, scariest friends. He hadn't been anguished specifically about her counterpart's death in another reality, or even the thought of her and a child they might have together dying because of him. His grief, he'd discovered, was less bound to them, there, and more rooted in his own terror in this world. "I'm keeping this info in my arsenal, for future occasions where she's so mad at me she's about to kill me."

Bruce's other eyebrow appeared to have an opinion on the matter.

"I'm counting on being able to make her laugh hard enough to forget why she's about to kill me," Clark said.

"Good plan." As Bruce placed the twelve inch pie on the middle rack, he said, all mildness, "You know why your conclusion that 'Being alone forever is best' is bullshit."

It didn't seem like the kind of not-question he needed Clark to answer. 

"First," Bruce said, "to merely temporarily remove you from action, a powerful sorceress tortured you for one hundred and eighty-nine seconds with visions of another universe the existence of which you cannot possibly be expected to either confirm or ameliorate. Second, whoever you saw in those visions who looked like you isn't you. Worth repeating. Third, you are not responsible for him." 

Clark didn't quite believe him, and didn't quite trust Bruce believed such logic either. But Clark could let him finish his lecture. Bruce had opened the long fridge door and taken out two beers in bottles. He gave one to Clark, pausing for a second as if making sure Clark was paying attention. He sat back on his barstool, and Clark clutched at the cold glass with both hands.

"Fourth. There aren't any guarantees about what may or may not happen to anyone who becomes part of your family," Bruce said, like it wasn't the biggest understatement he could utter. "You meet people every day who've suffered the worst, most unimaginable tragedies, sometimes of their own doing, and they take that pain and loss and accomplish astonishing things with it. They found non-profits and fund scholarships, serve their sentences, advocate for victims' rights or new legislation. They get better. They live to honor their loved ones. Most people, in mourning or otherwise, don't become homicidal despots. You're not as strong as them?" He took a drink of beer in a manner that Clark would describe as almost smug.

Clark thought about both pinching and hugging him. The heaviness in his shoulders had come back. He was hunched forward, trying to breathe against it. He wasn't sure he was even strong enough to keep having this one conversation.

When Bruce spoke again, there was no trace of arrogance in his tone. "What are we up to, fifth? Fifth, not to be mean about who you were as a kid, but." He tapped his fingernail against his bottle. His thoughts on Kansas farm life and Clark's once-upon-a-time place therein had been the source of delicate ribbing as long as they'd known each other's real identities. 

Bruce gave a rueful head tilt. "You missed a key element of the bigger picture when you were younger and you're doing it now, and not just because of course you, you specifically, are supposed to have a family." His voice sounded a little odd. But then he went on, turning so that he was looking out the window. "One person isn't really a family." More softly, he said, "If you decide to keep everyone away, it also means you're keeping out someone who might want to be your home."

Clark's hands seemed too stiff. He put the beer on the counter to keep from shattering the bottle and opened his hands, feeling the cold lift away from them. When he looked at Bruce's profile, he saw him exhale very, very slowly, as though he were lowering to the ground something immense but easily fractured. Clark heard the rain on the metal roof of a barn seventeen miles away and the ticking the oven made as it came up to full temperature. He waited until Bruce looked over at him again. He sat perfectly still and held his gaze as gently as he could. The minutes passed between them, quiet, shadowed, and warm, until Clark was able to find a place to start whatever was to come next.

"What's on the pizza?" he asked eventually, not bothering to be embarrassed at the roughness in his voice.

Bruce smiled small at the corner of his mouth. "Mushrooms, tomatoes, green olives. Asiago with extra mozzarella." 

An order in a greasy pizzeria years ago, the two of them battle-wearied and starving at three a.m. One of the first times, perhaps, Clark had sat across from Bruce and thought of him as anything more than a teammate. 

"My favorite," Clark said, reaching for Bruce's wrist.

"I know," Bruce said, letting him.

[heartless-error]

Broken, not perfect, but together. - Chapter 15

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairings: Jonathan Kent x Damian Wayne (JonDami) & Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating/Tags: Family feels, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, running away, brotherly love, fluff

Other(s) links: AO3

Broken.

The Batfamily was broken.

It was six years ago, and they had barely stood together since then, trying to stand up despite guilt and regret.

Damian  was sure there was nothing to save, not after losing something that he didn’t know he cared about. But when a new opportunity to get back what they had lost appears, he cannot help to doubt as his past decisions haunt him again.

If you love somebody, set them free. But you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Chapter Summary:

“What did you do? What are you afraid of?”

That question asked by Conner Kent that morning was repeated in Damian's mind over and over again as he could hear every second how the fragile threads that had held his composure together all these years were slowly breaking.

Crack. Crack. Damian listened to him.

Turns out he was afraid of many things, but he thought he wouldn't have to face any of them for a long time. Until now.

“Damian...” Timothy said in a low voice, surprised, and betrayed.

Chapter 15

 Now

 "Damian, what did you do?"

 That question asked by Conner Kent that morning in a pained and curious tone as he stood in the doorway of his kitchen, was repeated in Damian's mind over and over again as the same way a loud and muffled echo could invade the corners of an empty and spacious place.

His head wasn't exactly empty, but there was certainly a great lack of logical thought or reaction that made that conversation with his brother-in-law hit him where it hurt at the right time, reminding him of everything he had wanted to say and yet didn’t.

 Motionless and trying to assimilate the image in front of him, the youngest of the Wayne family swallowed hard to try to get rid of the strong pressure in his throat that was stopping him from breathing normally.

 "What are you afraid of?" Kon had asked, clenching his fists, and looking at him pleadingly, hoping to confirm his suspicions and find out what they had been keeping from him all this time. While he, overwhelmed, used his facade, and turned his back to pretend that everything was going well and didn’t feel the guilt devouring him inside.

 Just like now, he was doing his best to step aside on that avenue and act naturally so as not to stand out. Reaffirming his posture so as not to be noticed by the crowd that had begun to disperse and barely controlling the emotions that invaded him. It was the way to keep his sanity even though he could hear every second how the fragile threads that had held his composure together all these years were slowly breaking.

 Crack. Crack.

 He could feel them splitting in two, falling apart as he looked more at the happy family. It almost hurt him physically, because those threads, those patches, and strings that he had patched up with and tried to fix himself like a broken toy so long ago, had lasted too long. They were old and wrong, badly stitched, and inaccurate. And now they were splitting, falling, leaving the multiple wounds to his heart and soul open and bleeding in a way he hadn't been able to afford before.

 Crack. Crack.

 The girl in Jason's arms was talking about something while waving her hands and her entire body with excitement, the adult listening patiently with a soft smile and his eyes shining with genuine happiness and affection.

 Crack. Crack.

 Timothy laughed at what she said, encouraging her to continue as his hand gently cradled the head of the boy he holds, who had leaned on his shoulder sleepily and listened in silence.

 Crack. Crack. Damian listened as he remembered. Relentless and painful.

  "Damian, what are you afraid of?"

 The question arose within him, with regret.

 "What are you afraid of?"

 Wasn’t sure.

 "What are you afraid of?"

 Doesn’t know.

 "What are you afraid of?"

 Many things.

 "Are you afraid?"

 Yes.

 "You do?"

 Yes. He’s afraid. He is very afraid.

 Or had, rather.

 The answer came instinctively, without thinking. He knew he should have answered the same to Kon that morning rather than ignoring him and pretending nothing was happening. He should have been sincere and said yes, indeed he was worried and feared of many, many things, and although he couldn’t explain what they were he had been dreading them all this time.

 That little part of him that still belonged to the battered young Damian, barely held behind the patches, could say a lot about it. Could tell him that he was weak, insufficient, that he had softened, and that fear was not something a warrior like him should feel because it was stupid, insignificant.

 But given the circumstances, Damian believed that he had a right to have those fears. And, this time, to stop feeling them.

 Let go Tim and Jason was not easy. At all.

 Not because of everything that happened, not because of the dire consequences that had led him to where he was (all of that was already quite clear at a glance), but because it had fueled insecurity within him which had been dragging all these years.

 It wasn’t guilt, nor regret. It was just fear. One so big and magnified that it had paralyzed him to the extreme, that it had fueled his nightmares even more times than deep regret. One he already knew, had already plagued him before in his childhood and whose dominance and poisonous words he had already suffered without being able to avoid.

 "What if you have failed?" It was saying.

 "What if you have made the wrong decision?" It said.

 "If you have, you have ruined everyone's life again." It sentenced with cruelty.

 Yes, Damian had been struggling with his insecurities and fear of failure his entire life. Which had undoubtedly been quite harmful, even dangerous.

On this occasion, not only did resurface strongly, but he saw no reason to stop it. After all, despite knowing that Tim and Jason had to go, that he was doing the right thing by helping them, who assured him that it would turn out okay? Uh?

 No one.

 Once they both disappeared after the airport security check, he was blind, totally, and absolutely blind. He wouldn't know where they were going if they would be safe there, what they would do, how, or if they would be alright.

When he decided to do what he did, he was sure about the reasons, but he didn’t think about what little he would know later and how much that would torture him. And although doing it he was aware of what he was causing around him, the only thing he had in mind was that he would make his brothers happy, that he was giving them what they deserved despite although everything indicated that he would never see them again.

 But that insecure part of him, that part that he had decided not to listen anymore after realizing how poisonous it was, didn’t hesitate to begin and whisper and reveal options that he didn't want to take into account, that he hadn't wanted to think about while helping them.

 But that voice didn’t stop, it didn’t stop talking and resurfacing as time passed without hearing from them.

 What if they are dead? What if they have broken up? What if it went wrong? What if something has happened to them and no one will ever know? They went alone, without equipment, without backup, and nobody knew where they had traveled. The danger was in their lives no matter how much they left it behind, they may have been attacked, or injured, or maybe they had separated, maybe things hadn’t gone well between them when they saw each other in a place other than Gotham, or worse situations could have arisen that nobody has been aware of.

Who knows? He didn't, Damian couldn't because he had said goodbye to them at the airport and hadn't heard from them again. And there was a possibility that he had unconsciously thrown them under the bus or quite the opposite. He couldn't be sure because he was in the dark and that fueled his insecurity, even more, compounding his unease about having made the wrong decision.

 Rationally, he knew that this entire line of thought was born out of deep concern for his siblings, out of an enormous desire for them to be safe and happy. And that it was how much he loved them, how much he needed that all this went well which made him so uneasy and afraid that he had failed, that it had not gone as expected and in the end had also ruined Tim's life and Jason in the process.

 He couldn't bear that, he couldn't.

 He did everything for them, sacrificing himself and the other members of his family for it, not to mention his beloved. If he had failed, if it had not worked, he would have pushed his older siblings out of their life, friends, and family to make them miserable too, and that would be too much.

 There was a quota of lives Damian could destroy.

 The best thing is that he would never know if it had turned out well or not. He would never know if he had made the right decision, or instead condemned Tim and Jason for the rest of their days.

 Damian had resigned himself to being all his life not knowing the truth, to being in total darkness about it, not having a single indication of whether his sacrifice had been worth it or not.

 Until now.

 Crack. Crack.

 He inhaled shakily and then exhaled forcefully, trying to breathe and relax his muscles. His eyes felt burning, he was on the verge of tears of happiness and excitement.

 “I did it. I did that.” He thought, assimilating as he could what he was still observing. “I have helped that.”

 He had no words to describe the relief and deep comfort he was feeling at that moment. It was indescribable, overwhelming, like a balm that drowned him and lifted all the guilt and anxiety of those last two days. That anguishing weight that he had carried so long on his back had vanished in an instant, it had evaporated the moment he saw the scene in front of him and he could finally breathe, feel.

 Barbara had told him that he needed this, that he needed to see it. And as much as he was mad at her for the whole debacle that morning, she was right, she was so, so right.

 He needed to see Tim and Jason in person, without filters. See them together, embraced, with a ring on their finger and holding what was now their own family. He needed to see what he had helped to create, what they had achieved thanks to him, what his effort, pain, and perseverance had resulted in because otherwise, he would not believe it.

 Crack. Crack.

 This, all this, was what he craved and desired. The proof he wanted and now was in front of him.

 Suddenly his father's anger didn't matter anymore, or Grayson's rejection, neither his sadness nor anything else in the world, because he could breathe. He could breathe and he could live, live without problems, and move on knowing what he had accomplished.

 Damian sighed and lifted one of his shaking hands to his face, rubbing his eyes to keep from crying and his cheeks to make sure he hadn't started to do it before. He felt overwhelmed and vulnerable. So many things to think about, to feel. Feelings weren't his strength, but he'd held back so much and it's not like he'd expected to reach any other way when he found Tim and Jason. To tell the truth, it is not as if he had stopped to think about how he would act or behave the moment he met them again because it was not something that he had thought would happen.

 So, there he was, with his father behind him, also quiet and assimilating. Both trying to go unnoticed on the avenue that led to the school. Possibly drowning inside and trying to keep their composure not to run to where the other family was.

 Crack. Crack.

 Quite useless because his threads kept breaking, kept tearing apart.

 With his heart pounding, Damian fixed his gaze on the children Tim and Jason held. Analyzing them carefully as his chest swelled with unexpected pride and affection that he didn't even bother to suppress.

 Both were small and fragile, but they seemed happy and very close, especially in the arms of their parents. They were probably in preschool, four or five years old at most. The girl was a little taller than the boy, but if Damian had to guess he would say they were twins.

 The girl was energetic and smiling from what he could see. Her sleek, shiny black hair was pulled back into adorable pigtails that bounced as she leaned into Jason's arms to call her brother, gesturing with her hands, and laughing adorably as her sky-blue eyes sparkled with glee.

The boy, a little calmer and smaller straightened up and stopped Tim from stroking his short, dark, straight hair as he leaned down to let his sister's hand grip his tightly, causing the girl to let out a small giggle heard from his position.

 However, the boy didn’t seem to mind that, neither did he appear to listen to what Tim or Jason began to say, but rather distracted by something else, almost confused. Raising his head with a surprised expression and still holding his sister's hand, the boy's greenish-blue eyes turned to his left, then to the right, as if they were looking for something. He looked back, again to the right, to the left, and then directly to ...

 Shit.

 Damian froze.

 And Bruce, whose presence hadn't bothered to think until now, did too.

 He was looking at them.

 Double shit.

 The boy was looking directly at them, with intensity and some curiosity in that innocent look.

 Neither of them could prevent a chill from running through them, because how had he noticed them? As much as Damian had been overcome by the situation, he believed that they had moved away from the center of the avenue and had hidden among the people quite well. They were bats, going unnoticed was part of their charm, no one had noticed them, why did the boy?

 Crack. Crack.

 Now the little one was watching them carefully, indiscreet, amazed, and still leaning his little body on Timothy.

 Out of nowhere, the last Robin felt a change of pressure on his arm that would have surprised him if he hadn't been motionless under the unusual gaze of that kid. It was familiar, but not in a good way and he couldn't place it. But not he couldn’t stop and think about it because it wasn't that important when his father, who hadn't let go of his grip on him all this time, pulled back his arm imperceptibly as if he wanted to instigate him to leave.

 That confused him even more, because did he want a withdrawal? Batman? After everything?

 Crack. Crack.

 The boy kept looking at them without paying attention to anything else. And with his grasp on his sister’s hand wavering, she ended up looking at him realizing where his attention was, fixing those icy eyes on them in an instant.

 Bruce tightened his grip, Damian felt trapped.

 Crack. Crack. Crack.

 “Hey, kiddos.” He heard Jason say when neither of them answered what they were saying. “Are you listening?”

 Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

 “What are you looking a...?”

 When Tim asked that, he followed the children's gaze

 And then their eyes met.

 CRACK!

 Everything fell silent. The world around them paused.

 Tim stood still, stiff as a statue and a surprised expression breaking through his features. Jason, noticing his hesitation, also ended up looking in their direction, narrowing his eyes and leaving his face completely blank, indecipherable, listless in disguised but no less latent anger and rage.

 Damian held his breath, feeling completely vulnerable and destroyed inside, waiting for the illusion to break and everything to fall apart. The chances of this ending badly were high and not all results were favorable to either party. From everything that could happen maybe they would flee, or attack, maybe Bruce did, or a scene worthy of a show or even a chase could happen. He couldn’t tell, the situation was complicated and at this moment he felt trapped, undecided, the tension between them was becoming almost unbearable despite being meters apart.

 Slowly, Tim tightened his grip on the boy and cradled his head again to bury his face in his shoulder, ignoring the curiosity of the minor and preventing him from looking at them any longer. In turn, Jason also adjusted his strong grip on the girl and made a move to step back, as if ready to run out.

 A pinch went through his chest, aching and cold, realizing they wanted to flee. Of them, of him.

 But no, he wasn’t the problem. Damian wasn't the problem, he knew it.

 Who they looked at, who they didn't take their eyes off, who they fixed their eyes with distrust, terror, and deep disappointment, from whom they protected the children and who they didn’t want them to see, wasn’t him but who was behind him. It was Bruce who they wanted to run away from, who they inspected with an intense and aware glance each time as if he planned to take their children away or attack them at any moment. To be honest, they had reason to think that, and if they hadn't been caught in these circumstances, they would probably be a long way off by now.

They had seen Damian too, yes, their eyes had met for a few glorious seconds that take his breath away. But they weren't watching him, they hadn't tensed when they saw him, because they knew they didn't have to worry or take care of him, they trusted him but unfortunately, they couldn't say the same for Bruce.

 Bruce realized that he was the only problem here, that it was his very presence that was sabotaging his opportunity to speak to them. Nor was it very difficult to deduce, not only for all the times Damian had reiterated what would happen but because the sharp, cautious, warning glances were directed solely at him. If they fled it was because of Batman if they lost them was his fault.

The grip on his arm became stronger but shaky and almost hesitant. Although surprisingly, after a few long seconds, it began to slowly loosen until it completely disappeared, setting him free.

 It was like a leash was removed and Damian didn't even think about it or deigned to look back before starting to run towards his brothers.

 All he heard was his racing heartbeat, and all he saw was his older brothers getting closer, closer, closer, right there. They still watched their father closely but seemed to relax as they realized Damian was the only one approaching them and not Batman.

They decided to release the kids and leave them in the ground as they hide them behind them so as not to have their hands full, just in case. The kids stayed behind Jason's legs, stunned, and watching him as he got closer.

 By the time he was finally in front of them, he had no words.

 It was curious because during all these years he found himself many times thinking about the things he would say if they met again one day. And now that he was here, he had no idea where to start, or even to start. His heart kept beating too fast and his voice didn't seem to work right, his thoughts were racing that he couldn't focus on just one and he just stood there, looking at the agitated and still assimilating that it was them.

 “Damian…” Tim said in a low voice, amazed and looking him up and down.

 He shuddered because he knew that feeling so well, the one to make sure he was seeing who he thought it was because it was the same one he had since he'd gotten there and saw them ... like this.

Jason still hadn't taken his eyes off Bruce, suspicious and with one arm behind him to make sure the kids were still there, but he knew he was also very aware that he was two feet in front of them.

 “I…" He said in a hoarse voice, broken by nerves. “I don’t…”

 Fuck.

 He didn't know what to say.

 He was one of the most lethal people in the world and yet he was hesitating, not knowing how to talk to them and regretful as well as grateful for having found them. There were no more seams to break, there was nowhere to hide.

 He knew he shouldn’t be here, but at the same time he wanted to be here, and how could he express that?

 Tim's blue eyes kept him in place and Jason was already alternating between watching his father and staring at him in a daze. And at least he didn't seem to be the only one not knowing what the hell to say, because the elders also seemed to have problems reacting, causing silence and a less aggressive tension to settle on them.

 “I didn't want this.” He ended up blurting out. “Neither Jonathan. It was a coincidence, they found you and I tried to stop them from doing this, but they didn't listen to me. They got angry and forced me to...”

 They had to know that, they had to forgive him. This had not been his plan, he had not betrayed them, he would never, never do that and he was so mad at himself for letting this happen.

 And he was going to continue with his pathetic explanation when Tim raised his hand and silenced him by cradling his cheek gently. Didn't walk away, and the fact that he was caressing the side of his face where Grayson had punched him that morning didn’t go unnoticed.

Tim's gaze traveled from his swollen cheek to the other wounds on his face, to his head, then to his side, his hands, his torso, all of him, and then back up, meeting his eyes and repeating the process. Jason, who was no longer watching the bat, seemed to be doing the same silently and with the same disgruntled expression. Damian didn't know what they were doing, why they were examining him like this, and why they weren't scolding and berating him instead. They didn't even seem to have heard him, and if they had they didn't care, but he didn't understand, they should be furious with him.

 Timothy finally sighed heavily and when his indigo eyes met his again, they were wet, shining with pure affection and joy. A soft smile was beginning to adorn his face.

 “Dami.” He said in his voice raw with emotion. “You grew up so much.”

 The next thing was like a dam collapsing.

 Jason grabbed his shirt and dragged him towards them, making Damian lunge as they both greeted him with open arms. He ended up being hugged between the two with more force than should have given his injuries. But it didn't matter, because he, defenseless and without barriers, couldn't help but start shedding all the tears that he had been suppressing so far and found himself sobbing as he grabbed them as if they were the only thing keeping him alive.

 And he didn't care, he didn't care about anything.

 Because there were no more defenses left intact inside of him and fuck, he deserved this, he did. He knew it, he had earned it. He deserved to hold them tight, to feel how they held him in return, he deserved to grab Jason's arm and Tim's shoulder to bring them closer to him, to bury his face in the wide shoulder of one and let everything out while the other ran his hand down his back and cradled his head in that familiar way he instinctively knew.

He had been so afraid of forgetting how those touches felt, those unusual yet characteristic gestures. With each passing year, he had become more terrified of himself as he realized that he could not remember certain things, remember them in the same way. Like the way they smelled, the sound of their voices, how Jason held someone so firmly and securely, or Tim made him calmly lean on him.

 He hadn't wanted to forget any of it, but he couldn't help himself and now that he was experiencing it again, he felt like he was thirteen, fourteen, fifteen years old again. And now, he was again the insecure child who couldn’t believe that someone loved him for the simple fact of being him, that they had chosen to be his family and love him despite his mistakes, his past.

And it was in that instant, at that moment, squeezed between his two brothers, that he realized that the seams and threads he had tried to build, those that had been so easily broken a few minutes ago, were not necessary. He felt more complete than ever. The sad little boy locked up behind them was now laughing and the affection that emerged from that embrace made all previous anguish disappear.

 He was so happy. Every tear he shed was of happiness, he was sure he couldn't feel anything else now.

 “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…” He sobbed over and over, now on Tim's shoulder.

 He had so many reasons to be grateful to them. For staying alive, for moving on, for continuing to love and trust him deeply, for missing him as well, for continuing to be his brothers despite their time apart.

 “I'm sorry, forgive me..." He said that too because he felt he had to.

 “It's okay, Babybat." Jason replied.

 “Akhi...”

 "We got you, Damian." Tim whispered. "It’s okay, we got you."

 He didn't know how long they stayed there, but it had to be a long time. With one discharging all the tears that he had saved for six years (and even longer) as if he were a sprinkler and the others comforting him how they could. He was not very clear of the things he had said between sobs and he also didn’t exactly remember the quiet responses of the others to comfort him, but it had to be too much.

 If he had seen it from the outside, Damian would have even found it funny to witness how Tim, who was now much shorter, had to stand on tiptoe to reach his hair or wipe the tears from the face of a brother who was not that small.

But instead, after being able to breathe a little better and realizing that the painful, tearful explosion had been through the worst of it, he found himself busier trying to lessen the damage and rid himself of the silent tears that had been left behind.

 The universe had other plans and wanted to humiliate him even more because he had not even separated from the hug or decently dried his tears -or with dignity- when a light touch on his knee startled him, drawing his attention and of the two elders to their feet.

 Separating a little, it was the sight of the children looking at them with concern and frowns that reminded them that they were not alone in this reunion. Which made them finally pull away and pull themselves together a bit.

The boy had rested the palm of his hand on Damian's knee, curious and pained, while the girl had grabbed onto Tim's pants and gazed between them impatiently, waiting for their attention.

 “Hey, kiddos.” Jason said, sighing heavily, but with a smile. "Too bad of us, we forgot to make introductions, right?"

 Some of them nodded, but Damian didn't see him because he was wiping his face and trying to be decent in the most dignified way he could find. After all, he had just realized that the first image his nephews were going to have of him was that of a pathetic crybaby clinging to his parents.

 “Sorry.” Tim explained to them patiently as he separated the girl's hands from his pants and caressed the bridge of her nose from top to bottom lovingly. “It had been a long time since we saw each other, and we’ve missed him a lot. We were happy and got distracted.”

 “Like Whiskey?” The girl asked then, honestly and without malice.

 Jason bit back a laugh and Tim shook his head, funny.

 “More or less, yes.” He claimed. “But it's not the same. Because Whiskey saw you every day and it’s not a relative. You understand it, right?”

 This time he could see how they both nodded understandingly and with their eyes shining intelligent, understanding the emotion that one of their parents had just explained to them and the why of that dramatic tear-jerker show.

 And Damian didn't know what or who the fuck Whiskey was, so he wasn't sure if he had to be offended or not.

 However, Jason placed the kids in front of him, side by side, and they ended up looking at each other. It was there when Damian was beginning to understand that he was in quite serious trouble as the strong and powerful instinct of protection and devotion towards them came out of nowhere inside him and almost scared him.

 "Damian." Tim started to say, pointing first at the girl. "This is Lynn, our daughter."

 Lynn jumped a little and smiled at him, adorable.

 Damian smiled back at her and held back from looking at Timothy at all. Lynn… It was a pretty name, and he knew the reason for it, the legend of Janet Lynn Drake still resonated in the higher Gotham socialite.

 "And Will, our son." He said this time pointing to the boy.

 Will waved his hand to him but he looked down embarrassed, shy, and sweet.

 Damian smiled at him the same way he smiled at his sister even though he couldn't see him as his chest twisted. Will… Will… It could be because of William, like any character of a book Jason liked, or… it could be because of Willis Todd.

 What the fuck, Jason.

 “Okay. Princess, Snowflake, this is Damian.” Jason continued, smiling, and pointing at him without caring about the nicknames or the obvious surprise on his face. “Our little brother and your uncle. Treat him well and don't eat him.”

 Damian tried not to choke or start crying again at the warmth and excitement that ran through him when he heard Jason introduce him that way. Instead, he crouched down to be at the same level as the little ones and held out one of his hands in greeting.

 “Hi.” He said to them trying to outline a firm smile.

 Damian had no fucking idea what he was doing because he was good with kids in the field, but how did you talk to children on a regular day basis? How did you talk to your nephews? Especially with those you just met?

 Oh my god, he was an uncle, uncle. These children were his nephews, and he was holding out his hand to them, wasn't that very boring? Would a cool uncle do that?

 Did he even want to be the cool uncle?

 Lynn's warm little hand went to his and tried to take it to return the greeting, but he had to grab it because it was too tiny, it barely covered the palm of his hand, and Damian's heart squeezed when he saw his little hand disappear under his.

 “Why were you crying?” She asked, too direct, but still curious and innocent.

 He tensed. He didn't know what to say to her, he thought Tim had made them understand that it was because he had missed their parents. But of course, a child's mind works in a rather curious way sometimes. For a moment he considered lying, but there was not much to say either and with a single look into her crystalline eyes Damian knew he would never be capable of doing that now.

 "Because I'm so happy to meet you."

 That, along with his confession to Jonathan years ago, maybe was the most sincere and clear thing he has ever said.

 He heard Jason snort above them and was about to complain, but then Will walked over to him, and instead of trying to grab his hand as his sister had done, he just lifted his and placed it on his swollen cheek, the same way Tim had done when he saw him, imitating his father.

Damian blinked in surprise, his eyes watering again. His hand was so tiny and soft, so innocent and fragile, trying to comfort him despite having no idea what was going on. His heart clenched tighter and that sense of protection grew more, much more.

 “Shh. Don’t cry anymore.” Will said a little secure of himself and smiling softly. “We are also happy to meet you, Uncle Damian.”

 “Yes!” Lynn exclaimed clinging to his arm. “Finally, Uncle Damian!”

 Uncle Damian.

 Uncle Damian.

 That sounded in his head a thousand times and there was no way in the multiverse to describe how much he loved hearing it.

 He cradled Will's hand still on his cheek and let Lynn hug his side as they both began to speak to him and bombard him with innocent questions, between giggles and jumps of excitement that shook his heart.

And while he was trying to think how to answer questions like "Do you want to meet Whiskey?", "Do you want to play tea party with us?" or "What’s your favorite Disney film?", he looked up to see how Tim and Jason had re-fixed their serious glances behind him, across the avenue, right at the exact spot where he had left Bruce.

 When he turned around and looked, there was no one there.

[limenysnocket]

●The Blush Bet●

Pt. II: The Date. . .

Summary: After losing the blush bet by a few points, (Y/N) has to go out on the-- as Taika calls it-- "Worst Date of Her Life" with him. She has no idea what he's going to do, but she does know she's going to be wearing a very pink, very frilly and very short dress on the date tonight.

Request: @honorarytenenbaum

Author's note: This is about to turn into a series and I'm LIVING FOR IT.

Warnings: Alcohol usage, swearing and very unsavory clothing.

●□■●□■●□■●□■●

This was it, wasn't it? This was fucking it.

This was the thing that made sure that Taika was never ever going to be a part of your funeral comitee.

You stood there, looking at yourself in the mirror, your face scrunched up in pure disgust like a teenage girl who just got a ketchup stain on her "perfect" prom dress. But wait, imagine this. You're in the prom dress, for real and it's the UGLIEST thing you have ever seen. You would vomit on it if you could, but this date was going to happen no matter what happened, so you would just have to try and not cry/embarrass yourself any more than you will, the moment you step outside of your door.

The dress itself was pink (extremely pink) and incredibly frilly. This wasn't the thing that bothered you, despite the complete uncomfortableness of the scratchy ruffles, was how terribly short it was. It showed off too much thigh and you swore, if your panties were any longer, they would be showing. You were actually starting to hate yourself again, just by the sight of you in this dress. It was utterly disgusting. So unflattering, so horrible, so uncomfortable that you could call off this entire date right now and you wouldn't be ashamed.

You were on the verge of tearing this dress right off, but a knock at the door and a loud honking of a horn outside stopped you. You let out a long groan and a very sad whine before you even had your hand on the doorknob.

You opened the door and your eyes immediately went to the very (very) old gentleman before you, who looked like he had both feet in the grave and was so ready to lie down in it at any second. He was cheery though, despite his... appearance. He was dressed in a grey vallet suit and a dimpled cap. It looked old, but it suited him well. "Your ride is here, ma'am. He's quite the lively fellow, I must say," he chuckled, scratching his chin with a gloved finger. He turned with you to face the whole limosene, parked just outside, as the horn let out another shrill holler. You knew exactly who was inside the car and honking at her, and she saw his head come popping right up out of the top of the open sunroof.

"(YYYY/NNNNNNNN)!!" Taika yelled, the big dorky grin on his face while he used his foot to honk the horn for each extended syllable of your name.

"What the hell are you wearing!?" You blurted. You should really be saying it to yourself more than him.

"I bought it at Good Will! Are you impressed?" He cackled, bouncing on his heels.

Taika was dressed in a very daddly button up, short-sleeved shirt that was decorated in very blurry and cartoonish, red cherries. You couldn't see it, but he was also wearing tan cargo shorts and a pair of black crocs. So, he was making this embarrassing for both you and him, huh? He had no shame.

"Wow, I've never been so turned on before," you say, the sarcasm leaking out of your voice shamelessly. He only grinned at you and continued waving you over, while people on the street stopped and stared for a minute before walking on, their heads down, and some even quietly giggling over the stupid encounter.

The old driver took you down the steps slowly and opened your door for you, where Taika was waiting with an incredibly cheesy grin. You gave him an up and down look with an extremely horrified look. You still couldn't believe he was wearing that stuff. "I like you better in pineapple print..." You mumble.

Taika laughed, "Too bad."

The car engine started with a very loud complaint from the engine. If you had known any better, you'd up and think that the entire car was about to fall to bits within the first few seconds it made it onto the road. But no, you weren't THAT lucky tonight. There was still a limo to carry you around, which meant that there was still a date. Unfortunately.

"How badly do you plan to make me suffer tonight?" You turn your head and face him, crossing your arms.

"Really badly," he smirked and winked at you.

"Really really?" You said, almost through bared teeth.

"Really really," he repeated and settled himself down into an even more comfort position, spread eagle.

You rolled your eyes and scooted away, almost uncomfortable as his knee came into contact with your thigh. "Do you have to do that? We're the only people in this dumb limo besides Butler Alfred up there," you jacked a thumb at the driver's seat ahead of you, where the pleasant old man was happily bouncing along to the rhythm of the car.

"For your information," Taika butted in, pointing a finger at you and changing his posture yet again, "his name is Robert and he's way cooler than any Batman butler out there. Secondly, yes. The goal is to make you uncomfortable and give you absolutely no breaks, whatsoever."

You groaned, leaning your head in your hand as you watched the average buildings trickle into expensive French and Italian restaurants. Your eyes widen the closer and closer you got to the rich and fancy part of town, still riding along in your old fart limo. "Taika Waititi, this better not be what I think it is. You're not going to make me step out of this car, looking like princess bubblegum and her sidekick poorly dressed dad man, in front of the richest damn side of town!"

He was only giggling beside you, like a kid, and that scared you. Suddenly, the limo stopped and you sunk in your seat. Outside of your window was one of the most richest, fanciest restaurants there is in Los Angeles.

"Suuuuurpriiiiiiise!" Taika grinned at you, running a hand through his curls then quiantly stepping out of the car as Robert the vallet opened his door, then went to open yours.

"M'lady~," Taika smirked and offered his hand out to you as you prepared to get out of the car. You slapped his hand and got out of the car. "Youch," Taika chuckled, hiding the bright red pain in his hand with a grin.

You got out of the car yourself, only giving Robert a nod to thank him. You said nothing to Taika and stood at the front of the car, receiving weird and chortling glances from people dressed up snootily. They all stuck their noses up at you as they walked into the massive two story building, completed with an archway entrance. You didn't show Taika this, but now you were on the verge of a breakdown. You didn't want to go in that restaurant. Not like this. Not on these terms.

You have never been in this restaurant before. Not even close. You thought that you would have to marry a rich, Austrian Lord to get in there. You didn't know, at the time, that Taika was spending a large amount of money for you and this date. The outfits, not so much, but that was simply so he could actually afford to take you to such a place.

You sat on the hood of the limo, your stomach and knots. You could feel Taika's gaze on your skin, mixed in with the many others from passersby. You couldn't feel, however, that it was full of sympathy and regret.

There was another weight added onto the hood and it made you jump. Why, wasn't it the daddly Taika.

"Neat place, huh?" He hummed, looking up at the grand building above the two of you.

You drew in a shaky breath, a grimace spread across your face. "Yeah... It is..." You said, shame dripping from your tongue. This was hurting the poor man's heart.

"Too bad we're not eating there, huh?" He put on a sticky grin and you whirled around to face him and smack his arm.

"Are you seriously telling me that you made me sit out here and get stared at by all of these dumb rich people!?" You yelled and got sneered at by people you didn't know, also ignoring the fact that you, yourself, were infact, rich too.

"I didn't make you sit in front of all these people. I just offered to take you out of the car. Robert likes the building and asked if we could make a pittstop," Taika laughed and fended off your hand with an equally hard slap to your arm.

"Oh, Robert, my good man. I would like to request we get going. No more sight seeing," Taika grinned at the elderly man who was fiddling with an ancient quarter in his coat pocket.

"Oh, but where possibly to, sir?" Robert looked up, dazed and confused. So much for enjoying the sight of the building.

"To the bar, my good chum," Taika got up and you quickly followed in pursuit, eager to get out of the spotlight and stop becoming measly entertainment for the earnings of snooty laughter.

"Oh," Robert seemed a little confused, then took his hand out of his pocket to stop fiddling with the coin. "Alrighty then. Any particular requests?"

"Just something on the less rich side of town, but nothing too on the dumpy side," Taika put in his request while he opened a car door for you to get in, then went in to get in on the other side.

Robert nodded, lifted his cap and scratched the bald part of his head, set his cap back down and got in the limo once more.

You, including Robert, were a little confused when it came to this interaction. Did Taika check to see if Robert had a case of Alzheimer's, or was he pulling a big fat joke on you. You just kept quiet and breathed a deep sigh of relief as the fancy buildings melted away into the more average side of town.

Eventually, the long and very quiet ride was over and the limo pulled up along the curb of a pretty decent bar. It was at half capacity with people the time you arrived and it was quite simple. Simple, neon "Open" lights hanging in the window, simple sign hanging above the door and simple people, dressed in simple clothing heading in and out. You wished you could be a simple person at that moment, but Taika still refused to let you have that.

You stepped out once Robert politely opened the door for you again. You would tip him if your stupid dress actually had pockets. Yet another curse upon this night.

You step up onto the curb and Taika is waiting, extending a hand to you once more. You gulped and stared at it. Even here, you could feel the unworldly stares of those around you. Well, who wouldn't stare? You looked like the human epitome of Pepto Bismal and Taika looked like a dad trying too hard to look normal, but fucking it all up in the end.

"You know how much I hate this, don't you?" You said, hesitantly looking at his hand. His other one was tucked into one of the, what seemed to be, hundreds of pockets in his cargo shorts.

"Yup," he said, letting the P out at the end with a pop from his lips, exaggerating his pronunciation a tad more.

"I feel so spoiled," you sigh and clap your hand on top of his extended one, your fingers tangling with his, and without warning, he was dragging you inside.

A little bell chimed as the door opened again, and the smell of hot wings, booze and heady cologne. It was a smell you recognized and one you'd never forget. You couldn't count how many times you had sat in a bar like this one before you were a Hollywood success like you were now.

Taika guided you over to a secluded booth that had one, red wax colored light dangling above. If either one of you were to lean too far across the table, perhaps to steal a fry or grab the salt, your forehead would collide against the damn thing and leave a mark purple enough to make someone think that your secret lover had left a hickey smack dab in the middle of your head. You took a mental note of the light, and you were sure Taika did too.

"Allowed to spoil any plans?" You said, a grin perking up on your face since you were finally away from prying eyes and listening to Lynrd Skynrd play their hearts out over the speaker system hooked into the ceiling.

"Nope. All the plans are exclusively meant for me to know," he tapped his temple with his index finger and gave you a wide grin. You knew how much of a fib that was, for sure, just by the smile.

"You have no idea what's going to happen, do you?" You say bluntly, folding your arms. Taika's smile gets even wider and he lets out a very breathy laugh.

"Totally!" He cackled. It was a goofy enough laugh to even make you start laughing a little too. He was such a dork. You couldn't help it, honestly.

A waiter eventually came and took your order and both of you started laughing and joking about how they had looked at the two of you so strangely. There was a big debate on whether the two of you should leave a big tip for putting up with your guys' shit, or leave a small tip since they had secretly questioned your morals and the way you were dressed with just one look.

Taika took a hearty slug of pint, cheeks pink and dazed with his slight drunkness. Rock bands had been playing all night. Metallica, Lynrd Skynrd, Guns N' Roses, System of a Down, Nirvana and any other daintily old, yet popular group. You never took the time to look into Taika's music interests, and that made you all the more oblivious to the fact that he liked a few songs from the band Aerosmith.

"Oh God, I love this song," he groaned sodtly, his whole body starting to sway just as 'Crazy' by Aerosmith began to play and he closed his eyes like a weeping, dedicated fan. His eyes suddenly shot open and looked directly at you, "You have to come dance with me."

"Excuse me?" You said, just as you took a sip of your own pint. "I don't dance."

"Yes, you do. Now, come on!" He smirked, grasping your hand from across the table and dragging you, once more, out and in front of a bunch of slightly drunk people that you don't know.

"Taika, really?" You look up at him and whine. He hushes you without a second thought and pulls you up close to him and your nose buries into his chest. His arms slither and wrap around your waist. He has you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Damn you, Waititi," you whisper, your cheeks ablaze with color as he sways you around the dance floor.

"Love you too, babe," he hums, closing his eyes and grinning with glee as other drunk couples came out and danced along with the music. To be the little bit extra that he was, Taika took the liberty to even do a little fancy spin and a tiny dip. You giggled the entire way through, and nothing could have been a better sight than that to Taika.

The night ended with much more slow dances, lots more drinks, and a bill piled up high. You paid for half of everything and he paid the other half before the two of you left. Robert was waiting outside, chatting up this lovely little old lady that appeared to be close to his age. She scampered off once she realized Robert's customers had come back from their randevou.

"Did you find yourself a date, Robert?" You giggled, walking right up to the now open door that the old man was holding open for you.

"Nah. She was way outta my league. Pretty, though," he grinned and you couldn't help but laugh as you ducked your head and climbed back into the limosene while brushing off the crumbs from fries from your dress. Taika sat right next to you and pat his stomach, full from a night indulging on junk food.

Robert was the last one in and he took the limo away from the curb and joined in with the traffic.

It was a lit slower getting home, and yoh felt yourself getting sleepier and sleepier. Your eyes drooped and your body began to lean in the direction of your door, but as the weight of your body began to fall, it was redirected by a gentle hand, and your head was soon rested against a warm body. You looked up and saw Taika with that classic grin. That cheeky little shit. You laughed, "Thanks," and just kept your head there, seeing as Taika's shoulder actually was more comfortable than the cold window or scratchy seatbelt.

"No problem," Taika whispered back to you and let his body relax to the sound of faint honking horns from outside the window and the blasting air conditioning. He kept you warm all throughout your delivery back home.

You couldn't help but feel a little sad whenever you felt the limo come to a stop and you slowly lifted your head from Taika's shoulder. You refused to let the kiwi see your disappointment, however.

Robert came and opened your door, again, and you actually gave the sweet man a tip this time with quite a bit of the change left from paying at the bar. He was happy with what he got. Taika stepped out too and walked you right to your door, like a gentleman. You turned to him to say goodbye.

"You know," you started with a soft laugh, "I was kinda expecting this date to be a lot worse."

"It could have been," Taika said, "But I have a heart, you know. Always so sympathetic."

You punched his arm playfully and he did it right back, only softer. "I'm actually quite curious," he said suddenly after the both of you sat in comfortable silence, "If you had won the bet, what would you have done?"

You winced and giggled at this, biting the inside of your cheek. "I was going to bedazzle your mustache and have Pedro help, since he seems to know a lot about it. I was going to put glitter in it and everything. Like Twilight," You cheekily quoted "What We Do in the Shadows" in front of him and that put a happy little grin on his face.

"You wouldn't dare," he said right back, not thinking of a snappy enough comeback.

"Oh, but I do..."

The silence settled in again and your cheek remained between your teeth. You drew in a deep breath and Taika took a step closer. "You know," he said in a very low voice, "I can take you out on another date sometime..." He started to lean in, his face drawing closer to yours and his lips only mere inches away. "Next time... possibly as something more than friends..."

His lips were expected to come into contact with yours, but they only came into contact with something less intimate. Your thumb.

"You forgot the one rule of this date," you said in a very hushed whisper. "I'm not allowed to fall in love with you..."

You pulled your thumb away from his lips slowly, admiring how his bottom lips stuck against it and slipped so silkily over it. "Goodnight, Taika," you said, internally kicking yourself for not kissing him in that perfect moment.

He didn't say anything back. He merely watched as you unlocked your door and slipped inside, leaving him wanting and yearning on your step. He let out a heavy sigh as the porch light flickered on and he raised his hand, as if to knock on the door and plead for you to come back out again, but he stopped himself and turned to Robter, who was just getting off of the phone.

"Mr. Waititi, the big restaurant you and the Miss were supposed to go to just called to tell you that they canceled your reservation, since you didn't show up. Do you want me to call them back?" Robert said, holding up a phone.

"No, Robert, that won't be necessary," Taika sighed.

"Oh," Robert shrugged, "where to now, sir?"

"Home, if you wouldn't mind it, sir," Taika said and slipped back into the seat of the limosene, the seat still drifting with the scent of your perfume.

[what-if-i-imagine]

Shaking Breath

Amanda Waller, four bats and a Kryptonian clone have been working to create a new device for task Force X to use in the case of a Kryptonian going rogue. said device needs to be tested. Little do they know, Lex Luthor caught wind of the test, and has decided to attempt to get rid of Superman's second son, Nightwing, once and for all.

Ao3

TW: Suffocation from smoke

"Is it done?" The occupants of the lab all turned to face the Kryptonians who had just entered the lab from the elevator. Superman, the very man who had spoken, stood with his arms crossed and his young second son Nightwing closely tucked into his side imitating his posture. Supergirl and Power Girl both made their way to lean on the wall near the elevator while Superboy went to greet his friend.

Amanda Waller was the one to answer Superman, “It was just finished this morning.”

“Then testing is good to go?” Superboy asked, moving to his station at the monitors beside Red Robin.

"It doesn't have to be tested," Batman said. "We know it will work."

"Always better safe than sorry," Superman said. "It would be better for us to test it and for it to work than for us not to test it and be left with a useless device when it’s needed most.”

“I’m still not sure about this,” Batman said. “Ms. Waller already has Task Force X for this kind of thing.”

“As I said, better safe than sorry,” Superman nodded.

“And it will be safe to have one hand,” Supergirl said. “If we never have to use it, then great, but if we do, it will save a lot of lives.”

“You say that now, you won’t be saying it when you’re the one in there,” Waller said.”

“If,” Power Girl corrected. “We never plan on any of us going rogue. It’s only a possibility we have to be cautious of.”

“I meant testing it,” Waller said. “Figured she's tough as nails and would be up to the task.”

Kara shifted her weight from one foot to the other, avoiding facing Waller.

“Now that’s a surprise,” Waller said dryly, “Well then, which one of you is getting in there? Superboy can’t do it, and Supergirl apparently isn’t up to the task.”

“None of us want to do it,” Kara said, defensive instincts flaring. “Would you want to be trapped in there breathing something that makes you so vulnerable?”

“I would if it meant the world would be a safer place for it,” Waller said. “Now. Which one of you is going in?”

"I'll do it."

Everyone whipped around in varying degrees of shock and horror to the boy that had spoken.

Nightwing, Chris, shrunk under their gaze, but kept his eyes on his adoptive father. Looking up at him with an unreadable expression

"Absolutely not," Clark said once he was over his shock.

"Papa, I'll be fine-"

"I said no."

"Just hear me out-"

"Christopher Kent," Clark cut him off again, settling him with a serious look. "I refuse to allow this to be tested on a teenager."

"You refuse to let it be tested on me," Chris corrected. "But Papa, I'm the only one it makes sense to be tested on."

Waller gained an interested expression for the first time since the Kryptonians had walked in, "And why is that?"

"Because out of all of us, it needs to work on me," Chris said. He didn’t look at her, but it was clear to anyone in the room that he meant it. “Papa, Kara, Kon, and Karen are unlikely to go rogue. They've been raised in positive environments, always fighting for what's good and right. I was born in the Phantom Zone as a member of the house of Zod. I'm the most likely here to lose sight of what we believe in."

"You would never-" Clark started, but was cut off when Chris shook his head.

"It's okay. I know what you guys saw when you visited the other timelines. I was a Zod. I may be a Kent now, but that doesn't mean I can't be changed. Brain washing, amnesia, anything could happen to make me change and I would be the easiest target. We need to be sure Task Force X, or the bats, or you guys, could take me down if needed."

There was a heavy pause with all eyes on him. Everyone knew he was right, but no one wanted to admit it. None of the four bats present nor the supers wanted to remember what they had seen in the other timeline. The dirty blond haired, brown eyed boy in front of them being bathed in darkness with black hair and gold eyes that made him look like his parents in a sickening way.

But that didn't stop that reality from existing. Their disbelief that the sunny boy they all knew had the possibility to become so lost didn't stop the possibility from being real.

Clark finally sighed, and pulled his son into a tight hug against his chest, burying his nose in the boy's hair, "Fine. You can test it. But we won't ever need it for you, I know we won’t. Tell us the second you feel any pain or get even the slightest bit sacred."

"I will," Chris promised, pulling back enough to smile up at him. "I'll be okay. everything is being controlled and monitored. And anyways, I know I'll always be safe with you here."

"You are safe," Clark confirmed, just as he did every time Chris had his doubts since the moment they got him. He had had to repeat the phrase many times since they got him out of the Phantom Zone. He would willingly repeat it for the rest of his life if it helped to put his son at ease.

"I'm safe," Chris repeated one last time before fully pulling away. "It's going to be okay."

An arm suddenly slung around his neck, pulling him down into Kon's chest. He laughed a little at his older brother, and attempted to bat at his hand while he messed up his hair.

"You know you don't have to keep proving how stupidly brave you are, right?" Kon said. "Phantom Zone wasn't enough. You just have to go and prove you're up to any challenge. You're making the rest of us seem lame here!"

"I'll keep that in mind," Chris laughed.

Without giving Clark or the rest of his family any more time to worry, Chris went to the cylinder chamber, stepping in when Waller opened the door for him.

The chamber looked to be made of normal glass and metal, but in reality was made of a material not even the Kryptonians could break through, and reinforced by Kryptonite in the center in case they managed to break through the first few layers. It was designed to hold a rogue Kryptonian for as long as needed with no escape and was perfect for this very test.

"It's going to feel like it's burning your lungs," Waller warned. "It won't be a pleasant experience."

"I didn't expect it to be," Chris smiled. 

Waller nodded and closed the chamber door. The hiss and clicks of the locks echoed through the room and the seams seemingly disappeared. Chris stood still in the center, stance relaxed but prepared. With his nod, Batman, Oracle, Red Robin and Kon all flipped their switches.

Nothing happened for a second, but Chris remained prepared. A hiss sounded as the floor of the chamber sunk by just a half a centimeter and the ceiling did the same to reveal thin vents that ran all along the new openings.

Glowing green gas leaked in from them, slowly spreading across the ceiling and floor. Chris only spared the gas a glance before his eyes returned to his father's through the glass.

The gas spread, following the movement of air in the chamber, naturally drawn to where Chris stood taking deep breaths to speed up the process.

On his first inhale of the gas Chris started to choke, one hand flying to his neck while the other covered his mouth and nose involuntarily.

"Christopher, fighting back will only make it hurt," Waller said through an intercom Chris couldn't locate with his already wavering mind.

It was a struggle, but he forced his hands away, instead wrapping his arms around his chest to hold himself.

"Chris?" Clark said, worry already filling his voice to the brim.

"I'm okay," Chris managed to say. He could hear the way his voice echoed from the intercom in the lab but it was heavily muffled by the glass. He met his father's eyes again and repeated, "I'm okay."

Clark looked unsure but put his hand back down anyways.

Chris bit the bullet and took as deep a breath as he could manage, only choking slightly as the forign gas entered his lungs. He let his breath back out, and was consciously aware of the oxygen in him being quickly replaced by the kryptonite gas that was already weakening him. He could feel his ice breath and laser vision were the first the gas took from him, quickly followed by flight and everything else but strength.

Unlike the others, strength slowly seeped out of him instead of leaving in an instant. Still, it was gone quickly until he had the strength of a normal human fifteen year old.

Alarm only set in when the burn in his chest intensified and his strength lessened even more than that of a human.

He started to shake as the glowing green filled his vision. A frantic look around him said the chamber was thinly filled with the gas. He could still see through it to outside the chamber, but it was gradually becoming more opaque. It felt as if all oxygen was gone from his lungs, and the gas was the only thing he was breathing.

His shaking grew so bad he had to brace both hands against the glass to his side, using the little strength he had left to hold himself up. His breaths became frantic as his eyes uselessly searched the chamber for an escape.

Belatedly he remembered what his father had instructed him to do if he got scared or if it started to hurt, and shouted, "Okay I'm done! I don't want to do this anymore! Let me out!"

Outside the chamber, Clark watched his son's expression grow panicked and heard it coupled with his shouts over the intercom.

"Let him out!" he yelled to the group who held control over the chamber.

"We're trying," Red Robin said. "Something is wrong.”

"What does that mean?" Clark snapped.

"Someone override the commands," Batman said. "They hacked into the system somehow. They won't let us access the locks. or vents."

"How could someone hack into the system? We have a more secure system than the pentagon, you said so yourself when Oracle coded it!"

"It's Luthor," Red Robin said, his own voice turning panicked. He used one hand to push off his cowl while he typed at near speedster speeds with the other. His eyes were wide, and for the first time, Clark was sure it was fear he was seeing on a bat. "He found out about the project somehow. He hacked into the system."

"Shit," Oracle cursed, causing Clark's eyes to flicker to where she was stationed in front of several monitors.

"Report!" Batman ordered.

"Luthor got into the gas chambers. It's not just the kryptonite gas filling in there."

"What else is he filtering into the chamber?"

"A normal smoke that was colored green so we wouldn’t notice. He's trying to choke out the oxygen in the chamber."

Clark was sure his heart would bruise his ribs from how hard it was beating. A soft thud returned his undivided attention to his son in the chamber. Chris had seen their panic, and it had clearly only worsened his own as he started to frantically, weakly hit the glass while on his knees. Tears were streaking down his face that was gradually paleing.

A hundredth of a second passed, and Clark found himself hitting the glass with his full strength behind each punch. He knew in the small, still rational part of his brain that he wouldn't even make a dent, but he kept trying. Kara and Karen joined him. One kryptonian couldn't break through the material, but maybe three could. He was sure Kon would have joined their desperate attempts if it hadn't been busy making his own desperate attempts through code at regaining control of the server.

It took him a few seconds to realize the shrill loudness wasn't coming from his own head, but from the intercoms that were still projecting Chris's voice out to them. He was screaming unlike Clark had ever heard him do before. Screaming and crying and calling "Papa'' over and over again. The loud hits against the glass by the three kryptonians on the outside could be heard over the intercom by anyone else in the room, but only four of them outside the chamber could hear Chris's frantically beating heart under all the comotion.

"It's going to be okay baby!" Clark yelled. He tried to make his expression reassuring, but Chris gave no reaction. He just continued to scream and cry, staring brokenly up at him from behind the glass he couldn't break through.

"He can't hear you," an oh so familiar voice said from the intercoms.

"Luthor! If you don't stop this now nothing will stop me from killing you!" Karen yelled to Clark's right.

Luthor gave no response besides quickening the stream or colored smoke and kryptonite gas into the chamber. The color of green became so opaque that Clark's couldn't see Chris's face anymore. All he could see was his boy's hands pressed against the glass, bleeding and raw from hitting it so hard so many times.

Chris's screams came to a sudden stop. His hands slipped from the glass, leaving blood smeared from where they had been. Dirty blonde hair, a shoulder, and half of Chris's blue clad arm became visible from where he had slumped over between where Clark and Kara were hitting the glass still.

Clark heard himself screaming, but had no control over it.

He should have listened to his instincts. He shouldn't have let Chris go in there. He should have listened to Bruce and not have done a test at all. Not have let anyone in there.

“We're back online!" he faintly heard Red Robin shout. Four switches were flipped before Luthor could regain control and the chamber hissed and clicked for a minute as the gas drained out through the bottom and top. As the gas drained away and was replaced again by oxygen, Chris became visible again. A mess of tears, sweat, and snot covered his face. He was slumped bonelessly against the glass, his eyes closed and head pressed against it in a way that awkwardly bent his neck.

When the gas was completely gone from the chamber it unlocked with one final click.

Clark wasted no time throwing the chamber door open, arms ready to catch him when Chris fell forward towards him.

"He's not breathing," Clark yelled. He was shaking so badly he could see the way it jostled his son. He laid him on the floor, but before he could start the CPR he usually would in this situation, Kara caught him.

"He's weaker than a human right now," she said. "A Kryptonian performing CPR would only hurt him worse.

"I've got it," Stephine gently pushed Clark away and started CPR. Clark heard two of Chris's ribs crack under the bat's force as she expertly resuscitated him. Minutes passed like hours where Clark lost small lapses of time. Kon had at some point pressed himself into Clark's side now on his knees on the ground too. He was shaking. They both were. From the corner of his eye he could see Kara and Karen doing the same while standing, hugging onto one another.

Like breaking through a water's surface while being under for too long, Chris's loud gasp was the best sound he was sure he would ever hear. his son choked a few times, his heart beat that of a hummingbird, but he soon calmed into ragged breaths.

Clark quickly scooped his son up into his arms and held him so close he was sure he would never be able to let go.

"Papa," Chris was barely able to rasp a whisper against Clark's chest.

"I'm right here," Clark promised. He was unashamed of the tears that filled his voice. "I'm right here baby. It's okay. You're okay."

The fingers of his right hand thread through his boy's hair while he leaned his own head on Kon's where it rested on his shoulder. Kon had one arm still wrapped around Clark, but the other now wrapped around Chris, palm pressed to the side of his belly so he could feel the rise and fall of breath. Karen and Kara had joined them on the ground in front of Clark, Karen's hand holding Chris's and one of Kara's circled one of his ankles.

Bruce stood on Clark's unoccupied side holding his shoulder in a comfort just as steady as Chris's now even breathing.

When Clark could tear his eyes away from his son to everyone else in the room, all he could see was fear and regret mixed evenly with relife. They were all thinking about the same things. Every time before this when Luthor had tried to kill Chris had been much less direct and less successful. But he had been getting closer with every attempt to off Clark's second son. He had almost won this time.

Never again.

Chris was breathing, and Clark was never going to let him stop again.

[rhub4rb]

Home is Where the Heart is

AO3

[First chapter] [Previous chapter] [Next chapter]

-_-_-_-

Marinette made a couple of attempts to get closer to Damian. She knew that it was a matter she couldn't really push, and normally she wouldn't, but with her living there and being his sibling now, technically, she felt like she could at least try and ease the tensions between the two.

It wasn't even that she was trying to suck up to him, it was partly that she was genuinely sorry for what was happening. Still, if he wanted to blame anyone, he could blame Alfred. He was the one that came up with the idea of adoption. 

Her first attempt was doing what her parents had always done: going to the heart through the stomach.

She asked Alfred what Damian's favorite pastry was, and started from there. Marinette would admit, she had thought it would be something needlessly complicated, what with the way Damian seemed to believe himself more important and extravagant, but that wasn't the case.

Basbousa was surprisingly simple to bake, and with permission from Alfred, Marinette woke up early and helped prepare breakfast with the butler, taking time to make the pastries for Damian. Like a peace offering or extending an olive branch, something like that right?

The Wayne family seemed surprised to see Marinette help Alfred with getting all the food out, and their eyes widened significantly when they saw her approach Damian hesitantly.

"Okay, so I know you're not the fondest of me, and I'm not trying to force it! I just, uh... truce?"

He took the plate she handed in his direction, raised an eyebrow at her.

"Try again."

Marinette slumped, walking towards her seat with her a sigh.

Time to come up with a new plan.

-

Damian didn't know what he was supposed to think of Marinette's first peace offering. In front of the family, he acted cold and uninterested, which was largely true to how he felt. If she wanted him to not hate her, it would take more than just his favorite baked goods.

He didn't even try them. Tim and Dick seemed to have liked them though.

No, Damian wasn't interested in having Marinette become part of his family. What he wanted was for her to go, and he was slowly losing his patience for that to happen as time passed on.

Of course, he had already asked Bruce about getting the girl kicked out, which clearly didn't work. Going to Drake was out of the question, as it seemed the stupid duck had actually taken a liking to the girl. Grayson was Damian's favorite, but he rarely went against Bruce's orders. And Todd... well Todd didn't seem to want to be in the same building as the girl, so Damian was on his own.

It really didn't help that his best friend was dating the girl, so he definitely couldn't go to him for help on this.

Pennyworth was the sole reason the girl stayed in the first place, Damian had no doubt about that. Going to the butler was a no-go as well, though really, it was rarely even an option.

So instead, Damian took to being as cruel to the girl as he could be. He would trip, especially if she was walking down the stairs, leave snide remarks whenever she was minding her own business.

Normally, Damian wouldn't be acting as uncouth as he was at the moment, but he felt no reason to respect the intruder.

If he hardly respected his father and brothers when he first met them, what would push him to respect her? He knew the big bad bat had noticed, of course he had, but so far, he had only gotten a warning.

Damian had no doubt that Pennyworth would be taking him aside soon to have a talk, a talk Damian would very much not be interested in.

On the bright side, Damian doubted he needed much time to fulfill his plan to get rid of the pest.

-

Marinette wasn't actually the one at fault this time. It was Alfred.

Apparently, Damian had ruined a shirt of his, a button-down, nothing too bad, but there was a hole that needed stitching. Alfred, for whatever reason, had approached her with it, asked if she couldn't fix it for him while he went out on an errand.

Marinette agreed. It was just a hole, nothing difficult to fix, it didn't even take her very long.

The thing was just... she didn't know where to put it once she was done. Alfred didn't tell her, and something didn't feel right about leaving it in her own room. It was like the shirt just brought bad vibes. So, considering there should still be some time until Damian came back from school, Marinette saw no harm in leaving the shirt in his room.

She didn't plan on putting it back in the closet, she didn't know if he had a special order of things that he liked to keep, but she figured she could just leave it on his bed.

Despite knowing he wasn't home, she knocked on his door anyway. Marinette didn't want to upset him more than she already had, but the boy was also starting to get on her nerves. She didn't want to run into him more than necessary while still trying to make things less stifled.

When Damian didn't come and open the door like she knew would happen, Marinette opened the door and headed towards his bed.

Their rooms weren't too different, save for the fact that his was more personalized.  That didn't surprise Marinette though, she hardly had anything with her when she arrived in Gotham in the first place, and it didn't feel right to her to buy anything with Bruce's or Master Fu's money.

Marinette put the shirt on the bed, but stopped dead in her tracks when a voice spoke behind her.

"Just what are you doing in my room?"

Damian's voice was cold and calculated, and she could the relation between him and Batman.

"I was just- Alfred asked me to fix- and you weren't here and-" she kept cutting herself off, getting her words mixed as she scrambled to explain that she wasn't doing anything.

"Get out!" He roared, and Marinette quickly walked out of his room. "Father will hear about this, and when he does, I will make sure that he finally kicks you out!"

Marinette didn't know whether to believe him or not, but she still felt a sinking feeling of dread in her chest as she closed her bedroom door and sunk down to the floor, the kwamis coming out to comfort her.

-

Damian and Marinette avoided each other since that incidence. Damian had told his father about it, but Bruce still didn't want to kick the girl out.

Luckily for Bruce, or more luckily for Damian, Bruce didn't need to be the one to kick the menace out of the house.

Damian approached Marinette's bedroom door, posture perfect, eyes cold, his steps quick and certain and confident as he walked. Damian knew what he wanted, and he also knew exactly how he was going to get it.

He knocked on her door, and when the girl opened, he kept his face schooled into an unreadable expression.

"Father has a message for you," is all he said, before pulling out his phone and clicking play on a saved audio.

"Tell Marinette to leave the vicinity and never come back! That's final."

For a moment, Damian wished he could have taken a picture of the girl's shocked face. Instead, however, he had to focus on the task at hand.

"He wants you to be gone before he gets home," Damian said, feigning disinterest and checking his wristwatch. "I would get going now if I were you."

And just like that, Damian turned around and left, leaving behind a girl crying silent tears as she slowly went back onto the bedroom that used to be her's.

Damian simply went back to his own bedroom, and when he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing, he headed down to the training room with his katana. He hadn't gotten in any proper training since the pest had arrived, he hadn't wanted to be the one to blow the family's cover.

Inside of the manor, all was warm as Damian went through his exercises, but outside where a poor girl with ladybug side-effect was walking, a storm was beginning to rage, the wind was beginning to pick up, and snow was beginning to fall. 

-_-_-_-

@constancetruggle @mojos-biggest-fan @lysslovesanime @heredmaquam @luciferge @scribblinggraveyard @thatfandomsgirl @eliza-bich @ki77h3dr4g0n @crazylittlemunchkin @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @skyel0ve @serenacross200 @valeks-princess @thebananathatwrites @aurordraws @nothernbluetongue @bluerosette23 @xxmadamjinxx @graduatedmelon @tritaledkitsune @tinybrie @shamefullove @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @danielslilangel @vivilakitty @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @theatreandcomicfreak @naoryllis @lordsmeldingtonthethird @thanks-captain-obvious @iloontjeboontje

[peter-parkers-passport]

Flower Child (Peter Parker x ofc)

Chapter 10: Every Batman Needs a Robin... or an Alfred

warnings: mentions of traumatic occurrences, depictions of anxiety, two mad scientists, and very inaccurate science it’s fine

Had Lila not been completely washed over with shock, she may have thought she stared at the mask for far too long. But it wasn’t necessarily her fault, she’d been through the wringer that day: first having to actively compete in the academic decathlon, then almost dying, and finally seeing that Peter Parker, the boy she had more than a small crush on, was Spider-Man. It was a lot for any fifteen-year-old to swallow.

As soon as Lila saw what Peter had pulled out of his backpack, the red mask with white eyes that had saved her life twice now, her mind went on the fritz, and all conscious thought ceased. She barely even heard Peter ask, “Now do you understand?”

A significant span of time must have passed after the initial question, for the look on Peter’s face grew worried. Lila still hadn’t moved, spoken, or blinked after locking eyes with the Spider-Man mask. “Lila?”

Finally, Lila looked back up at Peter. Mouth opening and closing like a fish, she struggled (more than usual) to find the right words. “I…I - and y-you…” She trailed off, suddenly finding the need to sit down. She moved to her desk on wobbly legs and sat in her chair, gaze focusing on the wall behind Peter as she let her first initial thoughts come to her.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

Peter Parker fought Captain America.

Peter Parker is a superhero, and you were going to kick him out of your room.

“Lila,” Her attention was back on Peter. A twinge of guilt settled in her stomach at seeing his panicked expression, which was enough to sober her up and begin to rationalize her thoughts. “I need you to say something, p-please.”

“I th-thought you were lousy at keeping secrets,” Lila breathed, eyes darting back to the mask and up to Peter. She ran her fingers through her hair and wiped at her eyes, which still had streaks from her tears. At the look of slight confusion on Peter’s face, Lila breathed out a small laugh.

“What? I can - I can keep secrets-”

“Clearly. E-Exhibit A.” Lila gestured to the Spider-Man mask Peter still held. “I just… you made it so o-obvious with Liz, I r-really never would have guessed-”

“Wait, you know I like Liz?” It was difficult to tell what panicked Peter more, the fact that he revealed his secret identity, or that Lila had known about his crush on Liz. Lila pretended it didn’t hurt for him to admit it.

She stood up, rubbing her hands on her legs. Shrugging, she said, “I d-don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t t-talk a lot? So I just - I just watch people. It’s h-hard to miss the way you l-look at her.” Mostly because I want you to look at me like that. “I just can’t believe I missed th-this.” Holding out a patient hand, Lila looked to Peter. 

Reluctantly, Peter handed the mask over to Lila. The texture surprised her, the fluid fabric sifting through her fingers as she adjusted the mask to stare right back at her. Despite her best attempts not to, the crushing weight of the last week hit her again. “S-So, your Stark Internship…”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “It’s this.” She didn’t say anything in response, opting to think over what that meant, how much Peter had actually done for her besides picking out a computer for her dad’s shop. It was a vicious cycle of taking things in. Peter seemed to take her silence for something else, for he added, “Lila, please, you can’t - you can’t say anything-”

“So it was you?” Peter grew quiet once again as she looked up to him, eyes shining with unspilled tears. “It was you at - at Delmar’s? Fighting off those bank robbers? It was you today in W-Washington? In the elevator?”

Guilt flashed in Peter’s eyes. “Lila, I swear, I never meant for anyone to get hurt. Delmar’s, it - it was a mistake, and I had no idea the Chitauri core was explosive, I-” Peter was cut off by Lila stepping forward and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

She wasn’t much for displaying affection, but being so close to Peter made her feel safe. And now, she knew why. As Peter hesitantly wrapped his arms around her waist, Lila breathed, “Thank you.”

In his hold, Lila felt Peter tense at her words, which confused her. But before she could think too into it, he relaxed, holding her fractionally tighter. There was a slight worry that Peter could feel her heartbeat through her clothes, but her ultimate decision was that she shouldn’t care. She was hugging Peter Parker, the boy who saved her life and despite everything, told her the truth.

“Um,” Peter said, suddenly stepping back from her awkwardly, hand running through his hair. Nerves coursing through her body once again, Lila wondered what she could have done. “Thanks, I guess.”

Disbelieving laughter burst through her lips unwillingly. “You’re - You saved my life, and y-you’re thanking me?”

Peter mirrored her smile, which was a relief, “Yeah.” His hand rest at the back of his neck and Lila wished he would stop being so distracting. “It’s kind of a thankless job, so… to hear it is really nice.”

“You should hear it more often,” Lila said, completely meaning it. Peter sent her a grateful smile. Both of them were still standing, not entirely sure where to go from there. What could happen with the two of them? Would they just go their separate ways from there, Lila carrying Peter’s biggest secret and pretending that nothing had changed?

It occurred to Lila that this might be her chance to change that. She didn’t want to go back to normal. Peter telling her the truth was a leap of faith, and Lila was determined to make it worth it. “Um - is it okay if I ask you something?”

“I mean, it can’t be any worse than Ned. He had so many questions,” Peter admitted, sitting down on her bed once again.

Lila tilted her head to the side, “Wait, Ned knows?” She thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Oh - of course. He - he had the Chitauri core with him today.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, “It was a total accident. He kind of saw me crawling on the ceiling of my bedroom-”

“Wait, on the ceiling?” Lila asked. A childish kind of excitement filled her, and the realization that she was talking to a superhero settled in her mindset. She briefly thought of Sophie, and her list of questions she had for every superhero she hoped to meet one day. Now that she was right in front of one, what were Lila’s? “What else can you do?”

“Um - I can crawl on walls, which is how I got up the monument today,” Lila nodded, sitting down next to Peter, eyes and full attention on him. “I can lift things, really heavy things-”

“Like elevators?”

Peter let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, like elevators. There’s also this uh - thing. I call it like a sense of sorts where I can feel things before they happen. Like, if someone tried to throw a punch at me, I would feel it coming before it actually happened.”

That explains why he always seemed to know that I was coming up to talk to him, Lila thought. It seemed so clear now that he was explaining it. Peter wasn’t in need of his glasses anymore, he didn’t struggle as much in gym class, and Lila had thought he’d filled out his sweaters and flannels a little more this year…

“Okay, so - so how did th-this happen?” Lila asked. “You didn’t like, create a t-teleportation device and a house spider slipped in, r-right?”

Peter actually laughed. Her question apparently took him off guard, and he shook his head. His eyes were shining, and he smiled at her. Lila ignored her stomach doing somersaults as he answered her. “No, no. It’s not like that. Actually, do you remember the school trip we took to Oscorp? It was during our mutation unit in biology?”

Lila nodded her head, “It was their cellular ex-experimentation lab, and they had a r-really cool plant display.” She thought back to that day in early January, remembering how she could see New York’s skyline so clearly out of the windows. “Y-You got so sick at the end of it.”

“You remember that?” Peter looked at her curiously. 

Nothing out of the ordinary, just pining from afar. Ignoring the blush that rose to her cheeks, Lila hastily pointed a finger at herself. “Wallflower, remember?”

“Um - y-yeah.” Peter shook his head, the memory coming back to him once more. “That was why I was so sick: p-part of their experiments were radioactive testing, and a group of spiders had been exposed. One got out somehow and bit me right here,” He faced the opposite direction from her and ran his fingers along the top of his neck, brushing some of his hair aside. 

Lila leaned forward to get a better look at what he was pointing to and placed her fingers over his. Lifting up several loose curls from his neck, she noticed a tiny scar that resembled a bug bite. Rescinding her touch, Lila shivered at the thought of a spider crawling on the back of her neck. She didn’t even see Peter’s shiver in response to the feeling of her fingers on his skin. 

“Okay, um - is there anything else you can do? Mentally communicate with spiders, eat b-bugs, inject venom into y-your enemies…?”

“None of the above,” Peter said, still a slight smile on his face as he turned back to face Lila. She could have sworn she thought she heard him mutter thank goodness under his breath.

“So - So now I know, and Ned knows. Does a-anybody else know?”

Peter shrugged, “No. Just you, Ned, and Mr. Stark, but only because he built the suit-”

“Wait, wait, so May doesn’t know?” Lila asked, eyes wide. The idea that he was under no adult supervision (she opted not to count the incredibly busy billionaire) made her nervous. Was he really doing this by himself? “A-At all?”

“If she knew, she would freak out, okay? Like, lose her ever-loving mind.” Peter suddenly stood up, and his nervous posture appeared once again. “Just with everything that happened-” With Ben Parker, he didn’t need to finish, “- no. She cannot know. Lila, nobody can know, okay?”

It was more than a plea, it was more than desperate, and Lila understood. This was life or death, it went past high school, went past homecoming, went past herself. Nodding, she locked eyes with Peter. “I promise. I won’t - I won’t tell anybody.”

There was a tense moment where Peter regarded her doubtfully. Not that she could really blame him, this was a massive secret that needed to be kept, and how was Peter to know she was trustworthy. But she was Lila, and she would do anything for Peter. He must have sensed she would, for he nodded slowly. There wasn’t really much else for Lila to do except hand Peter back the mask she still gripped tightly. Taking it from her with a small thanks, Peter put it back in his backpack.

She didn’t want to seem like a snoop, but Lila couldn’t help herself. She’d gotten a glimpse of the rest of Peter’s backpack as he put the mask away, and saw something she couldn’t ignore. “What’s that?” She asked, pointing to the dark metal bands sitting on top of his suit.

“What, these?” Peter pulled them out, and Lila nodded, standing up and stepping closer to inspect them. Peter handed her one, which she took delicately and inspected. It was lighter than it looked, but knowing that Tony Stark might have had something to do with them, they were probably more high tech than her cellphone. Finding a little button on the top of the band, Lila clicked it, revealing a compartment holding a vial of a white, iridescent substance. Holding it up to the light, Lila looked at it in awe.

“Tony Stark made this?” She asked, eyeing the vial still as it became almost transparent in her bedroom light. 

Peter nodded. “Well, he made the web-shooters, but the web fluid, is - is mine.”

Lila found her gaze torn away from the web fluid and back on Peter. “You made this yourself?” It was difficult to keep any awe out of her voice.

“In chemistry,” Peter shrugged like it was no big deal. But the tinge on his cheeks said otherwise. “Just a formula I’ve been working on.”

Deciding it would take too much time to go into specifics like how it went from a fluid to webbing material, or how to get out of it, or even how Peter managed not to tangle himself up in it, Lila asked, “Can I see?” At his confused gaze, Lila clarified, “The f-formula. Can I see it?”

“Oh,” Peter nodded, suddenly reaching into his front pocket. Producing his cellphone, he started flicking through and producing a picture. Handing his phone over to Lila, he stopped at her questioning gaze. “What?”

“You keep content in regards to your s-secret identity on your phone?” Lila asked, taking the cellphone from him. She ignored his stuttering protests and stared at the picture of the formula he’d written on graph paper. Running the calculations through her head, she nodded silently as she studied it. When she’d finished, she hummed, handing the phone back. 

“What?” Peter asked again.

“What do you mean, wh-what?” Lila asked.

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You hummed. It’s not wrong, I’ve made it before, it works fine.”

“I believe you,” Lila said lightly, not wanting to cross any lines.

“Well you hummed, you were skeptical-”

“I wasn’t skeptical-”

“If there’s something you think is wrong-”

“It’s a perfectly functional formula, Peter-”

“Lila just tell me.”

“Fine,” Lila said. “It’s fine, the f-formula is fine it’s just - you’re being too conservative with the use of Toluene.” Peter cocked his head in confusion. “If you up the m-methanol by an eighth and Toluene by half, you’ve got the same lightweight structure, just m-more durable.” 

Still, with a suspicious look on his face, Peter looked from Lila back to his phone, reading the formula over again. He did the same mental calculation she did, eyes widening in surprise. “You did that all in your head?”

“I’m not as good as y-you are in chemistry,” Lila huffed indignantly, “But I know enough. And - And there were similar formulas to it in the decathlon today, it was still kind of fresh. Do you want to go try it out?”

“What the formula?” Peter asked and Lila nodded. He sighed, “All my stuff’s at school-”

“Well, we can just try it out with some basics at the greenhouse,” Lila stated calmly. The actual idea gave her a huge thrill, to help Peter in some way after all he’d done for her. “Just some experimentation with it, if you want?”

Apparently her offer was too good to pass up. Peter nodded enthusiastically, and Lila took that as her cue to get ready. Shoving her shoes onto her feet, Lila hastily made her way into her bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets for her toner. Checking the ingredients on the back, she hummed in satisfaction, seeing the salicylic acid as one of the ingredients. Lila gripped it tightly and headed back to her bedroom, where Peter watched her as she threw it into her backpack before zipping it up. Guiding him out of her room with a quick wave, the two made their way down the stairs into the kitchen, where Lila made a beeline for the cabinets under the sink. She found the appropriate glass cleaning solution and placed that in her backpack as well.

“Okay, are you ready to go?” Lila asked, taking her house keys out of the bowl perched on a countertop. Peter nodded, and the pair headed for the front door. But they didn’t even cross the living room by the time the front door opened, and Ted Landry walked across the threshold. He clutched a paper bag tightly in his hands, and he started when he saw Peter and Lila looking back at him. 

“Oh, Tulip, what’s-” He eyed her backpack and keys in hand, “- Are you going somewhere?”

Lila shifted awkwardly. “Yeah, Peter was - he was going to w-walk me to mom’s greenhouse. If that’s - if that’s okay.”

“Uh… sure.” It came out as more of a question. “Just make sure to close back up-”

“Is that tomato basil?” Lila asked, stomach lurching with hunger. She could practically smell the soup from where she stood.

Her father held up the bag and looked at it as though he forgot he was holding it at all. “Yeah, from Hale and Hearty, just like you asked...” His tone was still confused, and he trailed off as Lila took the bag gratefully from him. 

She kissed him on the cheek and guided Peter out the door. “Thank you. Love you!” She shut the front door with the image of Ted standing in the foyer, looking lost in his own home.

                                  *****

“Okay,” Lila said as she threw her backpack onto one of the tables in the break room on the second floor. Taking out the glass cleaner and toner, she set them down next to her backpack and moved on to take the soup out of the paper bag. Fortunately, her dad had gotten her a larger container, and she popped it in the microwave that was exclusively saved for Sophie when she was working long shifts. 

“S-So, I have a microscope up in the greenhouse,” She gestured up the stairs to the door of her greenhouse, “And I definitely have some Toluene glue up there from rebuilding some of those garden beds-”

“Why are you helping me?” Peter asked out of the blue. Their walk had been silent for the most part, both just in their heads about this strange situation. Lila was taken off guard from his question, pausing her movements and interrupting her train of thought. Staring at him curiously, she waited until Peter elaborated. “I mean - we just - we’ve only started talking for like a week, and you already know my biggest secret - I… I don’t get it. You could l-live your whole life just moving on from this whole thing, why are you getting tangled up in this?”

Because I’ve had the biggest crush on you since eighth grade? 

Lila tucked her hair behind her ear and felt nerves dance in her stomach. “Um - I just - you s-single-handedly saved my life twice, and I-”

“But I’m not expecting a thank-you, Lila. I wasn’t going to let you die, I just-”

“No, no, I get that, it’s…” She sighed heavily. “You don’t have a multi-billion dollar company behind you or experience in a world war, or e-even seven Ph.D.’s behind you. You’re just you - s-saving New York by yourself.”

“It’s really just Queens,” Peter mumbled, and Lila smiled in adoration.

She shook her head, “You c-can try downplaying your i-incredible selflessness, b-but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been doing this alone. I just don’t - I don’t want you to have to do this alone anymore. E-Even if I don’t have seven Ph.D.’s… yet.” She offered a small smile, and Peter returned it. The unspoken agreement that Lila was on board with helping Peter with Spider-Man hung between them, and the pair bonded despite the unconventional circumstances. “Plus, every Batman needs a Robin… o-or maybe an Alfred. I’d make a pretty good Alfred, I think.”

Suddenly the microwave sounded. Lila smiled wider, stomach still screaming at her. “So, tomato basil?”

[pandoraimperatrix]

Baby Picture

1,5w | Family fic | BatCat + Damian | Read on AO3

‘Kyle, she will fall!’

His panicked tone made Selina want to smile, but she didn’t. She knew Damian took himself far too seriously, and he liked to be treated as such. It had been so hard to convince him to get this close to Helena, he had only done it now that they were alone, only the three of them. He was especially skittish when Bruce was in the room. She had her suspicions of the reasons the young boy looked so uncomfortable those times, but she tried to give father and son time to solve whatever tension they had by themselves.

‘She won’t. You won’t let her fall, see? You just have to support the head with you elbow and the rest of your arm will be in place.’

‘I…’ he started but didn’t finish. Selina arranged the baby in his arms.

‘My arm is too short.’ His tone betrayed how annoyed he was by that fact more than he’d ever admit.

‘And yet so strong, I saw you throw Dick from one building to another once. And you can keep her in place with the other one like that.’

He didn’t like to be touched most of the time, but to her surprise, Damian was compliant to her ministrations, and let her arrange his limbs as necessary to keep Helena safe.

‘He tried to mess up my hair when we were in the field.’ He mumbled.

Now she smiled.

‘How terrible of him. Come on, darling, I’ll let go now, you can do it.’

He stared at her panicked.

‘Kyl-! Oh…’

Selina let go.

‘See.’

He broke eye contact with Selina and looked down to his little sister for a long time, like he was trying to memorize her wrinkled baby face.

‘She’s so light.’ He whispered, amazed.

Selina chuckled.

‘Try to carry her for nine months then.’

His brow furrowed, wrinkling his button nose.

‘She has father’s nose.’

Selina laughed.

‘She does, doesn’t she? The poor thing, we might give her a rhinoplasty as a birthday gift in a few years.’

She saw his lips twitching; Selina’s greatest joy was to break Damian’s mountain gorilla’s serious face. When she told him that, he informed her that there were no gorillas in mountains and that they lived in forests, with his most mountain gorilla’s serious face.

They turned their heads to the sound of approaching steps.

‘Selina, have you seen… Oh, Damian. You are here.’

The air changed, standing still, Selina eyes Damian noticing how stiff his little shoulders became.

‘Yes, father. Were you looking for me?’

‘Hmm…’ Bruce hesitated studying the scene, Selina smiled at him, he didn’t acknowledged the gest, eyes fixating on Damian. ‘Yes.’

‘For what?’

‘Give Helena back to her mother, let’s talk in the cave.’

Damian held the baby a little bit tighter, Helena fussed in her sleep.

‘He’s just holding her for the first time, Bruce, he can go later.’

‘No, it is fine.’

He tried to give her back, but Selina stood up from her nursing chair.

‘You know what? They look so adorable, I want a picture of this moment. Where did I put my cell phone again?’

She left the room ignoring Damian pleading eyes and Bruce’s stiff posture.

Bruce grunted.

‘Do you want to give her to me now?’

‘Didn’t Kyle just said she was getting her phone to take a picture of me holding her?’

Bruce grunted again.

‘Yes, right. But her name isn’t Kyle anymore.’

‘It would be counterproductive calling her Wayne.’

‘You can call her by her first name.’

‘She never asked me to.’

‘Would you? If she did?’

Silence.

‘Are you supporting the head?’

‘Yes, father.’

‘Are you sure? Let me-‘ He approached, arms stretched to get the baby, Damian rescinded a step.  

‘Yes, I am sure. She should have fallen if I didn’t wouldn’t she?’

Bruce looked from his daughter to him son, his red young face, the betrayed look, his shoulders fell.

‘Damian, you don’t need to get angry.’

‘You know what? Here, have you daughter that you had on purpose, I’m going on patrol.’

Selina entered the room exactly when Damian finished Helena on Bruce’s arms.

‘I’ve found it! You won’t believe where it was… Wait, what is happening? Bruce, give Helena back to him.’

‘No, I don’t want to be in your stupid picture, I’ll ruin it, like I ruin your stupid family!’ And he ran away.

Selina crossed her arms and stared angrily at Bruce.

‘Bruce, what have you done?’

‘Nothing, Damian just need to calm down, he’s being childish.’ He rocked the baby even thought she still slept soundly, unaware of the drama surrounding.

‘He is a kid. He is allowed to be childish. Give Helena to me. Go talk to your son, now.’

He thought about arguing, after all, he hated being ordered around and it was even more appalling that it was happening in his own house, but if he learnt something in the past months was the when he argued with Selina when she was looking that pissed he was going to lose. Being right or wrong. And he knew he wasn’t right. That conversation with Damian was way past its due.

Bruce gave his sleeping daughter a last longing look, she was such a tranquil baby, she had just been passed around so many times and didn’t seen to care at all; and then he gave her back to her mother’s waiting arms.

‘Be kind to him. It has been hard for him lately.’

‘I know.’

‘Go.’

He nodded and left the room.

When he found Damian, only a minute and a half after leaving Selina, the boy had already finished putting his uniform on, minus the mask, despite being fast dressing up himself, Bruce was always amazed about how quickly Damian got ready.

‘Damian, it’s too early for patrol.’

‘Crime doesn’t wait to get dark to happen.’

‘Damian.’ He tried again in a softer note.

‘What do you want?’ He snapped.

‘I want you to talk to me.’

‘I don’t have time to talk right now.’

Bruce sighed and approached the boy, he put one hand on his shoulder, that made Damian stop fumbling with his gloves.

‘You can make time for your dad, can’t you?’

Damian shot him an angry look.

‘Be quick.’

‘Alright, alright.’

But Bruce just stood there looking at him, his youngest boy, always so angry, so easily hurt.

‘You are not talking.’

‘I’m sorry, I know. But heading Wayne Enterprises, being Batman, that stuff is easy than this.’

‘Yes father, you have made clear how hard for you is having me as a son.’ He shoved Bruce’s hand away and focused back on his glove.

‘Damian, I didn’t say that.’

‘You never needed to!’

Silence last long enough to Damian want to die a thousand times, he sucked the air hard, and roughly cleansed the hot tears oh his cheeks with the back of his hands.

‘If… If that’s all I have better things to do.’

And he was right about to leave when he was engulfed in a massive hug.

‘Damian, son, I didn’t know… Hell, that is a lie, I did know you felt somewhat like that, and it is my fault, I am so sorry. When I say it is difficult to me it isn’t because of you, it is me. You know I try to be ready and prepared, but I don’t know how to prepare to be your father.’

‘Yes, I know, mother had me behind your back, you never wanted me.’ He was crying freely now, drenching Bruce’s turtleneck.

‘That is not what I meant. I am not prepared to be your father as I wasn’t to be Dick’s or now Helena’s. I don’t think it’s something you can prepare yourself for. And I don’t want to fail you, you deserve my best, and I don’t think I have been giving you that. I am so sorry.’

He kept rubbing Damian’s caped back and he cried, holding his small frame as he shook with sobs. It was so rare to see Damian break like that, the boy must have been under so much pressure, Bruce felt guilty fester in the pit of his stomach.

‘And I want you to understand that Helena being born changes nothing about how you fit in this family. You are and always will be my son.’

‘Blood son.’

Bruce smirked.

‘Blood son. Yes, but I’d like if you stopped bringing that up to your brothers.’

‘Fine. Let me go now.’

He didn’t.

‘Father, you are crushing me.’

He held him a little tighter.

‘Father!’

Bruce let go.

‘Now, go wash your face and take that picture, Selina is making everyone have one.’

‘But I’m going on patrol now.’

‘No, you are not. And that’s an order.’

‘But-‘

‘We go later, just you and I.’

Damian just kept staring hard at him.

‘I promise.’

The boy then nodded and left.

 ‘Ohh the picture will be even better now that Helena is awake. Awwwn, look kitten, she is smiling at you. You love your big brother, don’t you, Helena?’

Damian’s eyes was still a bit red, but when he looked down to his baby sister, his frown was miraculously gone.

‘Big brother.’

‘Hn?’

‘You said I’m a big brother now.’

‘That’s right, honey.’

He haven’t thought about that. Big brother. Him. Damian. That was promising.

The picture rested on the fireplace mantel that Christmas, and so many others to come.

  Wrote this story for my dear friend Lily who is the sweetest person ever and like me (and Damian in this fic) once had to hold a little sibling for the first time.

If you enjoyed please let me know, I’m new and I love to chat.

[bow-down-im-your-queen-now]

It’s Not What it Looks Like

Prompt: The relationship between you and Barry Allen was something that was complicated and hard to explain. He was dead set on keeping you a perfect secret tucked away from the world of superpowers and villains and being apart of a super league. His team has other ideas however. Of in which the justice league walks in on a scene that inst quite what they think it is, or is it?

Paring: Ezra!Barry Allan x Reader

Fandom: DCEU, Justice League

Word count: 3K

Warnings: Language

A/N: Was justice league a bad movie? That’s subjective but yeah kinda. Do i still love it anyways? Hell yeah. Ezra did such a good job and i just adore him so Ta-da. Enjoy and feedback is much appreciated!

Barry Allan slept like he was dead to the world. Whenever he actually found the time to just rest and go to sleep he did, hard. He could pass out for twelve hours straight and not move once if he didn’t set enough alarms. There needed to be at least five of them to stir him awake. And yet despite all of that, never mind how exhausted his mind and muscles were he could never find himself falling into a deep sleep when he was laying next to you.

Maybe it was because he was too scared of falling asleep and missing something, or possibly because he was too afraid to let his guard down, too scared to put you in danger. There was the horrifying possibility that he could drool or snore or made an ugly face in his sleep, not that you would care. Of course, there was also the fact that he couldn’t help but find you beautiful when you slept. The soft peaceful look that came across your face was everything to him. He could lay there for hours watching your eyes flicker behind your eyes, a constant stream of dreams causing a smile to twitch upon your lips momentarily. He knew this put him at an equal level of creepiness as Edward Cullen but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

He wasn’t sure what to call whatever this was. Was it a study date, does that make it an actual date? Would you go on a date with him? He figured that whatever it was as you laid in bed next to him, having changed out of your day clothes into a tee shirt and losing your pants in the process somehow made this something not platonic. But then again what did he know maybe this is what happens in platonic male-female friendships, you sleep pant less in the same bed after a ‘study date’.

He had been dozing in and out of consciousness when he heard the movement in his apartment. It sounded as if it had echoed from the kitchen and tension immediately worked its way through him. Of course, of all the nights for an intruder to break in they chose the night that you had passed out curled up against Barry, clutching onto his shirt as you snuggled against him.

He didn’t want to move. My god, he didn’t want to move. He wanted to just pretend that he hadn’t heard anything maybe then the intruder would just go away. Yeah, that’s it maybe if he was quiet enough whoever was breaking in would realize just how shitty the majority of his belongings were and just decide not to steal anything. It was a foolish thought but still, he considered it. But the thought of putting you in harm's way was even scarier than the possibility of never being this close to you again.

He carefully undid your lose grip on his shirt and moved your head from his chest to a pillow as cautiously as possible as he slid out of the bed. You hardly noticed and snuggled more into the pillow and Barry fought the urge to be jealous of an inanimate object. It didn’t take him long, of course, to rush from his bedroom to the conjoined dining room, living room, and open kitchen where he figured the noises stemmed from. Turns out there wasn’t just one intruder, it was five and on top of that, they weren't robbers ready to take his dated DVD collection but instead his team members.

“What is going on?” He whispered harshly gaining everyone’s attention.

“There you are.” Arthur blurted as he looked up from where he was raiding Barry’s fridge. “Get dressed.”

“What are you doing?” He continued to whisper frantically. “Why are you here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.” Victor said bluntly.

“I was asleep.” Barry snapped. “Lower your voice.”

“We need to go.” Bruce finally interjected.

“Why?” Barry still felt half asleep and was struggling to process what he was hearing.

“There is a situation in Tokyo I will explain it more on the way there. We need to go now.” Bruce’s tone left little room for argument and yet that was exactly what the man was about to do.

“What? No.” He couldn’t help but scramble to say. Their timing couldn’t have been worse if they tried.

“Kid, Let's go.” Arthur called out loudly, his voice echoing through the apartment.

“Shhhh.” Barry snapped frantically, looking around his apartment quickly. Most of the group shrugged his spastic behavior off, it was nothing new. And yet Diana caught it, she saw the careful was his gaze lingered on the hallway leading to his bedroom just a little bit too long.

“What’s your problem man, we gotta go.” It was Vic who spoke up this time, his voice a bit softer but not by much.

“Can you all lower your voices?” Barry whispered again harshly. “It’s three am.”

“Are the walls that paper thin in this shithole?” Diana couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Arthur tactless question and blunt tone.

“No there uh- yes I have neighbors.” Barry scrambled to answer tripping over his words. It was at that point that Diana glanced towards Bruce who was already looking in her direction. A quick look between them confirmed that they were thinking the same thing. Barry Allan was hiding something, very poorly at that.

“Barry is everything alright?” Diana started quietly, her voice soft and low much to his obvious relief.

“Pff, yeah of course. Look I’ll meet you guys there okay. I gotta get my suit on and brush my teeth, and-“

“You can do that on the plane jackass come on we need to go.” Arthur cut him off.

“I’m fast I’ll meet you guys there.” Barry insisted flinched at how loud the other man was.

“You're going to run all the way to Tokyo?” Bruce pointed out.

Barry realized the flaw in his argument. Sure he could but he would be exhausted and no help to the group after. But still, he couldn't just get up and leave.

“Pff, yeah why not.”

It was at that point that Bruce decided to get whatever needed to be talked about out in the open. Barry wanted them to be quiet, well... in a quick and casual motion he pushed a glass of the counter and as if in slow motion it fell over the edge. Barry noticed a moment too late and rushed to grab it but for the first time in a long time, he simply wasn’t fast enough. The glass shattered loudly on the tile and echoed through the apartment.

“Damn,” Arthur exclaimed and Bruce tried to hide the satisfied smirk on his face.

“My bad.” He offered up sounding all to unapologetic.

The footsteps were quiet, the sound of them almost nonexistent and Diana probably wouldn’t have heard them if her hearing wasn’t so good. Clark must have picked up on them too turning his head in the direction of the hallway as well.

Barry opened his mouth to say something to Bruce but was cut off by another soft and sleep filled voice.

“Barry?” All heads shot in the direction of the hallway and in the dim lighting the could make out a figure. They were all able to see you easily in the shadows, even the oh so human Bruce (years spent in a dark cave having some advantages). Barry was the only one in the group with normal vision but he didn't need to turn to see who it was.

You walked a little more into the room speaking again. “Barry, what’s going on?”

As you spoke you reached over flicking on a light switch. You had been rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you spoke but when you lowered your hand you jumped slightly at the slight of the five new strangers in the middle of the room.

“Oh shit.” The words left you mouth softly as your gaze jumped from person to person. You knew who they were, even despite the ‘civilian’ clothing they wore in place of their armor. Barry had told you all about them but seeing them all here in person, staring at you was a shock, to say the least.

As for the rest of the league, they all took you in slowly, shocked as well. An over sized red shirt with a flash logo being the only thing partially covering your torso. Barry hated the shirt, you had bought it for him jokingly from one if those stands set up randomly throughout Gotham, still stocked with the ‘Superman isn’t dead’ shirts and plenty of Batman magnets. You wrapped your arms around yourself suddenly aware that the fabric only stretched to the top of your tights.

“______, I’m sorry we didn’t mean to wake you.” Barry started. His cheeks were beet red and nervousness was written all over his posture.

“It’s okay.” You smiled softly, the expression only lasted so long though as it slipped from your face. “I should probably go.”

“No no it’s okay you don’t have to go, I just, I've gotta...” he tailed off rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It’s fine I didn’t mean to crash here anyway, I have to get ready for work in a few hours.” You reassured glancing over towards the digital clock on his DVR, you had to be up at six anyway.

“Right, right. Okay uhh.” He glanced around nervously as if unsure of what to do next.

At this, a soft laugh left you, with a roll of the eyes you only shook your head and then turned to pad back down the hallway.

Arthur and Vic check your ass out unabashed, the two of them exchanging a quick look in approval. Diana once again found herself rolling her eyes and sending them a hard glare but she wasn’t the only one with a nasty look on her face. Barry looked less than pleased though it was more than obvious he was trying to hide it as he sent a look their way having caught their wandering glance.

No one said anything for a long moment and Barry couldn’t help but squirm under everyone’s scrutiny.

“It’s not what it looks like.” His mouth moved faster than his brain and before he could think out and explain he found himself blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “We didn’t have sex.”

He was truly endearing and Diana couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. Clark seemed to share a similar sentiment and she even caught a ghost of a smile on Bruce’s face, you had to look closely to see it.

As for Arthur and Vic, well they lost it. A quick look between the two of them and they were practically bent over. Barry was squirming again scratching the back of his neck.

“Shocker.” Arthur’s tone was teasing. “She’s hot. Way out of your league.”

Vic nodded and Barry seemed conflicted in wanting to tell him to ‘fuck off’ or nod in agreement as well. Meanwhile, Bruce’s momentary amusement was gone in a flash and just like that he was back to the grim voice of reasoning.

“Are we just going to pretend that’s it’s okay that she was totally unfazed with us being here.” Bruce started roughly. “Does she know?”

“Well uh... know what exactly?” Barry flinched slightly at his tone.

“About you, about us?”

“Yes.” Barry finally admitted sheepishly.

“You told her?” It was in that moment that Barry realized he really had fucked up somewhere along the lines. He has known you since forever, you were the first to hear about his powers, you went to class together. Barry’s life was so intertwined with yours it just made sense to go ahead and mention that he was apart of the league. You would have found out anyways by simply turning the evening news on.

As for the whole revealing of everyone’s identities, he probably could have kept that to himself but he couldn’t help it. Bruce fucking Wayne was Batman, he had to tell someone. And of course, you had so many questions he couldn’t find it in himself to tell you no. He trusted you.

He was thankful for your timing before he could say anything you reappeared.

“We will talk about this later.” Was all Bruce grunted crossing his arms as you returned. Barry gulped nervously and turned to face you fully.

You had replaced the over sized tee shirt with an outfit you had been wearing the day before. Your backpack was slung over your shoulder.

“You need to eat.” Was all you finally said breaking the silence as you walked into the room heading for the man.

“Oh yeah, I will. Don’t worry.” Barry tried to assure you, so many nerves twisted through him he couldn’t even imagine eating.

“I’m serious Allan. You burned a lot of calories.” You huffed crossing your arms. Once again Diana found herself amused, you were just as endearing as Barry.

“Burned lots of calories last night huh?” Arthur teased, snickering. “Doing what?”

You couldn’t help but peak around Barry letting your gaze fall on the man behind him. You could tell that there was no malice in his tone and had Barry not been so flustered he probably would have heard the yet again endearing amusement.

A smile spread across your lips as you winked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Your tone was chalked full of faux innocent thrown off by the smirk still playing on your lips and for a brief second everyone was questioning whether Barry had been telling the truth of not earlier.

Arthur was at a loss for a brief second and you turned back to Barry.

“Please be careful.” You mumbled softly, the shift in your tone was drastic.

“Always,” Barry promised with a nervous laugh.

The hug you wrapped him in was tight and once again the team standing behind them was confused as to what was going on. Barry didn’t hesitate to hug you back, his hands clutching at the fabric of your shirt tightly. The hug lasted a second too long to be anything platonic and the quick kiss you pressed to his cheek as you pulled away even further solidified that.

You stepped away and it almost seemed like Barry wanted to follow. He managed to keep himself rooted in the spot and once again his nervous laughter bubbles out of him.

“so uh call me.” Barry finally blurted out.

You could only roll your eyes playfully at him finally moving towards the door. “I will.”

“Or maybe I should call you. Would that be easier? Yeah, I’ll just call you. Or text.” He continues to ramble.

“Bye Barry.” You laughed

“Right, I’ll talk to you later, I’ll uh call you.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” He was quick to say and a flush spread across his cheeks. You save him one last sweet smile and finally turned around to talk away.

The league watched you like hawks and you fought the urge to shiver under their gaze. The only other woman in the room seemed to have the nicest expression on her face as you made eye contact with her.

“Please make sure he eats.” You couldn’t help but blurt out.

“Of course.” She promised genuinely.

“Thanks.” You returner her friendly smile and continued to approach the door.

Bruce Wayne in the flesh seemed to look in your way. The Batman. He was taller than you expected and powered radiated from him. His expression was indifferent yet the look in his eyes gleamed with a harsh judgment.

“Please tell me your getting him to pay your student debt off.” You teased turned back to Barry. He seemed to flustered to say anything but the others around the room cracked a few smiled and laughs.

As you glanced back to Bruce you half expected a nasty glare but instead your reserved an expression that you could only imagine was mild approval.

“Nice to meet you all.” Was all you finally said looked at each and everyone of them one last time before slipping past the towering man and out the door.

Everyone waited for the latch to softly click shut and then almost immediately all eyes were on Barry. He could practically see the questions forming in their brain and a slinky panic filed him.

“I like her.” Diana was the first to speak. Arthur grunted while both Victor and Clark nodded all in agreement with her. Bruce was the only one to show no sight of approval.

“Yeah me too.” Was all Barry said breathlessly his gaze still settled on the door.

“We need to leave.” Bruce finally grumbled sending Barry a hard look. “This conversation isn’t over.”

He began to move toward the door and Victor and Clark fell in step behind him, soon followed by Arthur but not before he sent a shark tooth grin to Barry. He sent one last wild look around his apartment before speeding through and turning off all the lights because god knew he could hardly afford his electric bill as it was. When he returned to the living room this time wearing actual clothes instead of his pajamas Diana was still lingering the now dark apartment.

“Oh uh, hi there. Ready?”

“Whenever you are.” She reassured.

It was as they were walking toward stage door that Diana draped an arm over Barry’s shoulder pulling him closer.

“Well, Who is she? Tell me everything.” Was all she said a small smile on her lips. A small groan left his lips and he knew there was no shaking the questioning of a determined Amazonian.

Barry almost dreaded the plane ride to Tokyo. Almost.

[lalunaunita]

The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 1

I’m very pleased to share that this old WIP is finally done!! I started writing it back in 2018 (I think) and when the WIP Big Bang @wipbigbang revved up for 2019, I knew it was a perfect piece for me to finish. Per the Bang rules, I’ll publish the last chapter on my posting date of August 17th. I’ll be updating every week until then.

This story is based on a 1991 children’s book of the same name by Andrew Helfer. When I heard about it, I thought it was such a great (and cute) plot that I wanted to try writing my own version! Major plot points and storyline are all credited to Andrew Helfer. New story text and new subplots are by me. Copies of the original book are available and the ISBN to find the book is 0307126218. Many thanks to @haveievermentioned for remembering this book and bringing it to my attention.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7    Music Fanmix by @pennywaltzy

Rating: Teen

Summary: All kinds of cats in Gotham are disappearing! When several expensive animals are stolen, Batman's top suspect is Catwoman. But is there more to these thefts than meets the eye?

The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 1

Forty squirming, squealing kids threw popcorn and chattered at each other in the rows below Bruce Wayne at Gotham City’s Circus Charity Night. Charity Night at the Circus had become a tradition in the Wayne household over the last few years. Shortly after adopting Dick Grayson, the young man had requested these circus outings for the children at his old orphanage. Bruce had readily agreed.

He always turned it into an event—playing at an exclusive park, followed by dinner, then the show under the Big Top. Curiously, Dick never attended. Bruce didn’t press him. He knew all too well the pain childhood memories could bring.

Bruce and his date sat wisely out of range of the concessions-turned-missiles. She turned to him, the elegance of her black velvet dress belying her giddy excitement.

“What’s your favorite part of the circus?” Tatiana asked him, tossing her lustrous dark hair over one shoulder.

“The big cats,” Bruce replied. “They’re so gorgeous and powerful.”

“Oooh, must be something of a kinship, I suppose,” she teased, batting her eyes flirtatiously.

Bruce tried not to roll his as he focused his attention back on the three rings below. Tatiana was an extraordinary beauty, just the kind of woman Bruce Wayne should be seen with around Gotham. Unfortunately, she was also an utter bore.

Music swelled and the children quieted as a spotlight focused on the Ringmaster in the center of the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is our privilege to bring some of the finest creatures in nature to you. Watch carefully, and don’t be fooled! Our trainer would have you believe these lions and tigers are tame as house cats, but they are not to be trusted! Remark the ferocious gleam of their fangs and the sharpness of their claws. Please do not tempt their murderous appetites with a stray finger or hand! And now… on with the show!”

The crowd jumped to their feet to get a closer look at the cats, applauding the Ringmaster’s speech. All eyes were on the thick red curtains that led backstage, but minutes went by and no cats of any kind paraded forth. The pregnant silence was interrupted by shouts behind the curtains.

Bruce casually pressed a button on the side of his cell phone and it rapped forth an irritating, high-powered ringtone. He gave an exaggerated sigh for Tatiana’s benefit.

“Hang on, it’s the Board. I’ll be back in a minute. Hello…?” he said, affecting frustration as he pressed the phone to his ear.

Bruce stepped into the aisle, pretending to converse as he quickly made his way out of the stands. He stuck to the shadows, slipping around to the back of the big top. Outside the main tent, dancers, acrobats, and clowns walked to and fro, prepping for their acts or chatting with each other.

The argument had crescendoed; Bruce could hear the Ringmaster desperately shushing whomever was shouting. Bruce hid himself in the darkness between two tall wooden crates. He discovered he was fortuitously close to a seam in the main tent’s canvas. He put his eye to the opening and caught a glimpse of Commissioner Gordon’s familiar face. Commissioner Gordon stood straight as an arrow and looked down his nose at a rather unkempt man in suspenders and a stained undershirt.

“We’ll find your cats,” the Commissioner assured him. “There aren’t that many places in Gotham to hide lions and tigers. Or that many places to sell them. My men are on it already.”

“They better be! Those animals are expensive. If my cats aren’t back by tomorrow, I could lose my job!” the unpleasant man screeched.

The Ringmaster put a placating hand on the man’s arm, but he shrugged it off. Bruce watched as the Commissioner cast an observant eye over his surroundings.

“Now, just to be sure I have everything down correctly, these are the cages for the big cats?”

He indicated four or five surprisingly small wheeled trailers arranged in a semicircle. They looked like old fashioned animal cracker boxes, although they did have the addition of thick rolled draperies that could be let down over the iron bars to fully enclose their tiny spaces. Bruce could see, and even smell, that they hadn’t been cleaned in a while.

“Yes, yes,” the trainer replied impatiently.

“And you did not take them out prior to their performance?” The Commissioner frowned under his moustache as he looked at his notepad.

“No! I already told you that!”

“And you do not have any kind of yard or pen for them to stay in—other than the cages?”

The man didn’t notice the steely glint in Commissioner Gordon’s eye as he shook his head. “They stay in the cages if we aren’t training or performing. Seriously, are you even taking notes?”

“I have to ask to be sure, Sir. Police procedure.”

Bruce grinned as the Commissioner turned away from the man and focused on the Ringmaster, completely dismissing the trainer from the rest of the conversation. The man’s mouth opened and closed a few times and his eyes bulged. But the Commissioner resolutely refused to meet his eye. With an exasperated sigh and a few muttered curses, the trainer walked away to go scold his assistants at the cages.

“As I said,” Commissioner Gordon continued, still standing tall in his most imposing posture, “I already have people looking into all possible locations that can hold big cats. We’re checking all cargo transports out of the city and taking every precaution to find your animals. In the meantime, detectives will be interviewing your employees—to see if anyone saw anything.”

Bruce heard the unspoken notion that the detectives would also be interviewing the employees as potential suspects. The Ringmaster picked up on it too, but nodded frantically.

“Whatever it takes to get George his cats back. He’s difficult at the best of times, but he knows how to train the big cats. We simply don’t have a show without them!”

As the Commissioner made his exit, Bruce leaned back from the circus tent canvas. George might be good at training, but it seemed that he and his staff were terrible at caring for their precious animals. Dirty cages and no room to run or play? He’d had no idea the Gotham City Circus kept their animals in such squalid conditions. Maybe there was a way to put in an anonymous tip… but there was no guarantee an honest city worker would look into the case. Issuing citations wasn’t likely to fix the problem. There had to be a solution, though. He’d think on it.

Later that evening, Bruce cruised the streets of Gotham after dropping off Tatiana at her penthouse. The woman is part octopus, he thought sourly as he recalled his struggle to extricate himself from her amorous embrace at her door. He’d pleaded an emergency board meeting and made tracks, leaving her beautiful pouting lips and sultry eyes behind.

Bruce stopped at a familiar intersection to wait out the red light. He looked up at the building on his left and noticed Commissioner Gordon’s light still on in his office.

Five minutes later, the Batman tapped softly at the Commissioner’s window. The silver-haired man looked up, startled, then smiled. He slid open the window and moved aside to allow Batman to descend on silent feet. The line of his grappling hook whizzed quietly as it retracted into his utility belt.

“You’re up late, Commissioner. Everything okay?” Batman asked as the two shook hands.

Gordon ran a hand through his wavy hair, sighing. “Just working on a weird one, Batman. Cats. Missing cats. With all the missing people in this town, you’d think that would take priority, but here I am, trying to track down animals like a dog catcher. Or a cat catcher, as the case may be.”

“I heard about the no-shows at the Circus. Are you saying there are more missing?”

Commissioner Gordon laughed without humor. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. A lot more, in fact. We’ve gone past ‘hundreds’ and are closing in on a thousand or more. I don’t know if we’re looking at some kind of predator or—”

“Are there signs of predation? Claw marks or other clues of struggle? Any blood, bones?”

The Commissioner shook his head. “No, thank heavens. God knows I’ve got my cat Ruffy secured at home, though. I was letting him out to roam every once in a while, but now I keep him indoors. I’m a little spooked about him getting grabbed.”

Batman nodded, thinking. “That’s a good idea, Jim. If you aren’t seeing any signs of violence, it seems more likely this is theft.”

“That’s where I was leaning too, Batman. I just got a call from the Southminster Cat show; one of the show cats has been taken. The night watchman didn’t see a thing. I’m going to follow up in the morning and talk to the owner. You want to join me?”

“I’ll bring the coffee, Jim. See you there.” With that, Batman stepped onto the ledge of the open window and disappeared into the night.

Commissioner Gordon couldn’t help it; he leaned out to see which way Batman had gone. But just like every other time, he never caught a glimpse of the Batman after his dramatic exit. He sighed. There was nothing more he could do for the case tonight. He closed the window, packed up his briefcase, and headed home, where he hoped Ruffy would still be waiting.

Dick was laid out on a comfortable Italian leather couch, flipping idly through a magazine when Bruce came through the den.

“And how was the lovely Ms. Aurbach?” he asked, lifting his eyes only marginally from the page.

“Grabby,” Bruce replied.

He loosened his tie and removed his cufflinks, dropping them into the pocket of his slacks. Alfred never failed to check his pockets before washing.

Dick closed the magazine and leapt to vertical, an effortless motion his acrobatic background afforded him. “Oh, really? That doesn’t usually vex you.”

“Who says I’m vexed?” Bruce retorted, just as Alfred entered with a tray.

The nascent argument was forestalled by a late night snack the butler had prepared. The trio settled in around a deeply stained and well-polished coffee table. Alfred poured tea from a silver service and passed the cups around.

“I trust Ms. Tatiana is well,” the butler began, “and that the Circus was a delight.”

“Actually, Alfred, someone stole the lions and tigers. But yes, the rest of the night was fine.”

Dick nearly spat out his tea and eyed Bruce incredulously. “The lions and tigers? Seriously? That’s kind of... specific. And heavy. It would be heavy.”

Bruce sipped his tea with perfect form, ignoring Alfred’s approving glance at his lack of slurp. “That’s not all. Tomorrow I’m meeting Jim Gordon to interview the owner of a missing show cat at the Southminster Cat Show.”

“Stolen as well?” Dick raised an eyebrow.

“I hate to make assumptions…”

“I know you do. I’ll wait for your conclusions upon examination of the evidence,” Dick replied, rolling his eyes. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Just be on call. You have anything else going on this week?”

Dick shrugged. “It’s summer break, Bruce. Other than a couple hot dates, I’m free.”

“Not too hot, I hope.”

“Alfred’s run background checks on them already. Well-bred young ladies from Gotham Academy, not a rebel among them. I’m just trying to be a normal teenager, Bruce. Promise.”

Bruce popped a water cracker topped with gruyere cheese into his mouth and leaned back, chewing. He swallowed. “I know, Dick. I’m glad. It’s not always easy with me, I’m aware.”

Dick grinned. “Easy is boring, anyway. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Bruce replied.

He stifled the urge to ruffle his ward’s hair. Dick wasn’t a child anymore; he was a young man of sixteen. He was often impulsive, but he had matured greatly over the six years he’d been Bruce’s ward, both as Dick Grayson and as Robin. Bruce was grateful for their friendship and partnership, though he couldn’t deny Dick kept him on his toes. Thank goodness for Alfred’s impeccable timing and mitigating influence.

“Well,” said the butler, breaking the silence as he gathered the tea service and stood, “I’m off to bed. And you should consider the same, Master Bruce. You have an early morning in the office—”

“And an even earlier meeting with Jim Gordon,” Bruce finished, standing and dusting off his knees. “Thanks, Alfred. Good night.”

“Good night, you two.” Dick settled back onto the couch with his magazine as the older men left the room.

[whumpbby]

About the Batman’s ‘no-kill’ rule

Listen, I understand why Batman (many capes in general, but especially Batman and his associates) has the no-kill rule and, listen, it’s a good rule. It’s a grand rule! It has a lot of sense and needs to be there. 

I just wish DC was better at relaying why it’s so important. Important enough for Bruce to sacrifice everything for it. 

I wish they would use something else than the same old posturing and the”If I kill a killer I’m no better!” or “I won't go down to their level!” because these are worn out slogans that make little sense when the verse presents villains that are unredeemable. (Like, the one thing I have against Daredevil show was that DD’s argument with Frank was so weak, because it led with a “Well, these violent murderers/rapists are people too and deserve a second chance!” because as a part of a group endangered by said criminals, I lean towards Frank’s logic=_=)  

In that case, objectively, we can say that Jason and those who see murder as permissible, are in the right - offing one person to save dozens of innocents makes sense and is the most logical choice, isn’t it? On a small, personal scale, yes, sure, a deranged murderer loses the ‘sanctity of life’ license. Who wouldn’t jump on a chance to kill Hitler or Stalin?

But the ‘no kill’ rule doesn’t come from the point of logic and ‘deserving’ and revenge. It comes from the bigger picture. 

The bigger picture is that everything Batman does in Gotham (not his fantastical world-saving adventures with the League, we’re focusing on a standard nightshift) happens in a grey zone of the law that he is permitted to operate in. It’s easy to forget with all the hype surrounding him as this undefeated uber-mensch, but Bruce isn’t backed by law enforcement - Gordon allows him to exist. Graciously. Had Gordon wanted it to happen, Batman would be out on his ass within a week. The police may not be able to catch him, but the moment Bat is considered a criminal himself, his Mission is officially over. He’s not a cop, he isn’t a soldier, he has no discernable and provable training to deal with situations like that and he is always.suspect. Always. 

(Realistically, the law wouldn’t even touch any of the criminals he’d brought in, because every bit of evidence he provided would be shot down in the court instantly (maybe sans a straight recording of the crime, and that’s a maybe) but we’re not talking RL, people can move across town on grapple-hooks in this universe ffs ;] )

So, say Batman kills the Joker and it gets out. 

Gordon cuts ties with him - he can’t, in good conscience, allow a vigilante who kills to operate in his city for many reasons other than it will encourage others to do so. Batman is done for - he can still go out at night and beat up petty criminals, but any benefit of the doubt he ever had is gone. Now he’s a Punisher. 

But also, please tell me that Bruce Wayne, stupidly intelligent, pragmatic, obsessive, controlling, mentally disturbed, able to compartmentalise to a horrifying degree, will stop there. On that one body. Bruce Wayne who - taking away these rare bouts of big issues like saving the world - is faced night after night with the mundane evil that will never go away, can’t be defeated once and for all and can barely be managed (abusers, child molesters, drug dealers, murderers, the whole shebang) realises that the world is better for the lack of one criminal already. Try to convince me he will stop there. That a man with a plan for everything and control issues to end all control issues, who can remain virtually uncatchable - won’t attempt to micro-manage the city (then the world) for the Greater Good. Hell, we saw him justify downright abuse of his own kids with the ‘Mission Comes First’ excuse, the Greater Good would open up the floodgates! Hell, Ra’s is working with a Greater Good in mind!

And he wouldn't stop at one, because it always escalates. Imagine a cop who was doing the worst shifts in the worst neighbourhood for the last 10 years, or a social worker who had seen it all and has nothing left to give of themselves - and present them with a loaded gun and a promise of invulnerability if they decide to use it. Think of how many ‘bad people’ would any of us get rid off if there were no consequences waiting. Hitler. Stalin. CEOs of Monsanto. Whoever. And B is smart enough to avoid any and all consequences if he decides to go there.

See how good Injustice’s verse looks after a powerful good man allowed himself to cross the line.  

And that’s what Batman is afraid of. Not that he will be as bad as the Joker or Two Face, or any of his villains. Bruce has the potential to be ten times worse than they all put together and knows that the only thing that’s standing between him and being a remorseless dictator is that.one.kill.

So, you know, I love Jason and I understand his POV and I agree with it, logically - but I also understand Bruce’s POV and agree with his choice. That’s why their conflict is so painful and so poignant, and there’s no way it can ever be resolved to mutual satisfaction. 

Now only if the writers stopped writing Bruce as a bi-polar sociopath and took Jason seriously for more than 2 issues at a time whenever they don’t need a punching bag for the Batclan or cheap angst... we could all live happily ever after=__=