#i wanna run into a glass wall and sprint until i find a field to fall on my knees on like

[nylwnder]

i hope you all know ive been crying about joseph woll the whole day.

[waveypedia]

little details i adore about astro boyd

(yes i watched it again yes i love it sue me)

The way the camera tilts when boyd talks when the “camera” Is Boyd’s pov to show he’s moving his head

The little flashes of Boyd’s true core memory from the very beginning

when boyd “malfunctions” the first time, only gyro freaks out. Akita looks totally calm

Boyd’s fake core memory fading out to show the reflection of his horrified face

Gyro almost never actually addresses boyd, treating him like an inanimate object, until he calls him a real boy

Gyro’s little gasp of horror when he realizes Fenton is out of commission

Lil bulb’s bulb turns red when gyro belittles boyd and machines in general in the lab, and that’s what puts him out of commission

(that was the inciting incident for it to go evil in both the great dime chase and beware the buddy system (as buddy), but gyro himself has never said it)

The picture of young gyro and boyd has a crack in it, representing their broken relationship

Immediately after Huey jumps and grabs gyro’s arm to protect boyd from him, gyro (unconsciously?) shields him with his arm

The shot right after has Huey still on gyro’s arm (continuity mistake) but then gyro just gently sets him down, even as he’s freaking out

Later, when Gizmoduck crashes into the ground, gyro grabs Fenton’s bag and Huey and carries them out of the blast zone w/o a second thought

Launchpad acting as troop leader 

The s’more with donuts and cookie dough (where did they get that???) 

Huey is more upset that the s’more isn’t regulation than that he’s being teased 

Huey’s “wow, that was easy” when Boyd asks if he wants to be friends 

Boyd has the jwg downloaded into his brain 

Boyd accidentally set the bully’s s’more on fire with his laser eyes hehe karma “

Manny!! Get this dangerous machine out of my lab!!!” “Which one?” “

What idiot called [him] [Boyd]?!” Haha mark beaks did gyro just called mark an idiot (it’s what he deserves) 

Gyro is so dramatic he keeps monologuing dfghjkl

The way akita belittled and never actually addressed gyro, his former intern, until they started fighting & how he addressed gyro as intern, (what he calls Fenton) even though he’s obviously not an intern anymore 

“Protect Gizmoduck” 

Every time lil’ bulb sat on gyro’s shoulder and when he sat on gyro’s head in the lab 

Akita knew gyro wasn’t responsible for Boyd’s “malfunctioning,” yet he belittles gyro like he was responsible since he knows it hits a nerve 

Huey insisted on calling boyd boyd, while everyone else called him 2b0. He also used he/him pronouns while everyone else used it/its pronouns, which is dehumanizing 

Gyro’s little “ow” when he and akita are slapping each other 

Huey’s terrified expression when boyd, in world breaker mode, broke fenton’s helmet 

when gyro has lost his glasses and akita is doing his “you’ll never invent anything worthwhile” bit, he backs away from akita only for his hand to go over the edge. He does a little hand wave and turns his head to find the ground, but there’s nothing there. And he can’t see so he doesn’t know how far off the ground he is! He probably thought akita was gonna kill him 

Gyro’s little satisfied “hm.” when inspector tezuka arrests akita

Actually all of gyro’s little noises, hums, screams, and grunts. Jim Rash is really talented.

The way Boyd’s head lifts when gyro says 2b0 and floats in front of Fenton

huey stands Fenton and lifts his head when gyro has Boyd’s attention and Fenton is out of commission 

There’s a picture of a crying strawberry in the background of boyd and gyro’s hug which perfectly encapsulates my feelings on the matter 

Gyro’s sweet, calm, loving expressions after he hugs boyd 

Huey frowns when boyd chooses the name beaks chose for him, but then smiles again when he explains his reasoning 

Team science walks RIGHT BY akita’s hiding place right before inspector tezuka stops them 

When gyro says “hide 2bo”, Fenton straight up rests his arm on boyd’s head like an armrest. Huey just shoves his hand in front of Boyd’s face 

When inspector tezuka leaves gyro to grill boyd, gyro just kinda… remains lying on the cop car. He doesn’t get up until she starts running after Lil Bulb (and then he sprints away)

Gyro’s “oh no” when he sees inspector tezuka 

The way gyro’s voice trails off when he knows he’s failed to convince inspector tezuka he’s on a field trip, and her attention is diverted to boyd, but he finishes his sentence anyway 

The pissed look gyro gives Fenton when he blows a hole in the wall of akita’s lab (even though gyro asked him to) 

The way Fenton’s hair bounces and flops around whenever he moves his head 

the fact that Fenton apparently thinks gyro was born in akita’s lab (where was Fenton born?) 

Lil Bulb sitting on gyro’s head 

“I don’t wanna break anything.” / “Then why must you insist on breaking my heart?!?!”

Gotta say I hate doofus and I’m glad he was only in this episode for a couple of seconds but that was so funny and I hate him a tiny bit less for his comedic value

Doofus and mark beaks vehemently refused Boyd’s hugs, but Gyro, who notoriously doesn’t like hugs (“the hugging is just for today”) gave him a giant one

It’s a huge step from the beginning of the episode where gyro literally jumped on a table to avoid boyd

The way huey says fenton’s name (fen-uhn) 

The fact that the Gizmosuit gets alerts for crime everywhere, not just in duckberg. it sounded like it taps into local police radios?

Fenton can speak Japanese

Fenton defending Gyro to inspector Tezuka, but not himself

Inspector Tezuka called Fenton Gyro’s “partner” - and he is, by the end!

Akita’s little homemade sound effects and gadgets 

“computer, zoom and enhance” *pulls out a magnifying glass*

Huey’s annoyed face when Fenton is overjoyed at the robbery 

Boyd can eat bowls 

All the ads for glomgold’s energy drink, especially the ones that show glomgold hella buff (what is with him and wanting to be seen as buff?)

When they fly away from tokyolk, Boyd’s pose at first mimics Fenton, but then he flies ahead and he and huey have a kid fun moment (tm)

According to the end credits, the thieving pigs are named Clown and Capsule! 

Bully Beagle, the junior woodchuck beagle boy

[jackielikestea]

The villain I appear to be (A kiribaku fic)

The villain I appear to be

Summary: Inspired by Diamond Jack and the game series Sly Cooper.

Sometimes when I

Wanna run away and hide

When there's no one on my side

And all my pride had disappear

I take it off my mind

And leave it all behind

Nothin' left to do but

Try to take the leap and follow through

And that's exactly what I'll do

I watch carefully over the crowd as I walk glasses of wine to the table I was “severing” as Todoroki spoke softly in my ear piece.

“Remember, Bakugou we only get one shot at this. Iida ran the numbers again you only have a hour and a half to collect the diamond and get out of there.”

I tilt my head down and moving my lips as little as possible a whisper into the mouth piece.

“I know half n’ half, in fact.” My eyes lock onto the elder man who I knew after running over the guest list and researching the Plaza with Iida, was the owner.

“I just made eyes on my way in. Be ready with that helicopter.”

“I’m the get away driver, so you saying that is redundant, as is me telling you to be careful. If you’re not we’ll be forced to send Izuku in.” IcyHot ended our connection, threat though clear in his voice, he didn’t want things too get crazy.

I set the severing tray down at the table and quickly gave the two girls that were dinning my most charming smirk as I give them their glasses.

“I’ll be right back to take your order.” I promise them both not keeping my attention on either one of them for two long.

I act like I was going to walk back to the kitchens, but turn quickly as soon as another blond waiter walks by me and quickly follow where the owner had slipped down the hallway with his “guest.”

A young woman probably half his age if not more. She had been seen recently at a ballet and at a grand opening of a museum with him, so I have a pretty safe bet of where he’s taking her.

I watch behind shadows as the two talk quietly in front of one of the archways to another room, one that said it displays some of the world’s most precious treasures.

There’s only one entrance which is currently being blocked by money bags and his date, so I’ll have to find another way to get in. As I consider my options I notice a security officer quickly walking up to the owner and grabbing his and his date’s attention. Well beggars can’t be choosers.

I use this distraction to sneak my way into the room and from there it’s easy. A quick and small explosion underneath the display of the world’s rarest diamond; and the only security system that Iida couldn’t hack into, and disable is gone, leaving me to open the display and grab the rock, slipping it into my tuxedo jacket, and then quickly rush out of the room while everyone else was distracted.

“Ground Zero, have you got what you came for? Cause we have a situation.” Iida asked over the head set.

“Who do you take me for, of course I got it, and what have you nerds done now!? Don’t tell me you don’t have me a ride?” I hissed into the mic as I walked into the kitchen fully prepared to grab a severing tray and walk out. Just like we planed.

“Kirihsima Eijiro better known as Red Riot, is on the premise. It would seem if someone has tipped him off. He’s outside the building, with at least a dozen cops.”

“Shit.” Tall, strong, and handsome wasn’t in the plan tonight. Before I could actually respond to Glasses, the alarms went off over head.

“I guess they just found the empty display case. I’ll take care of this.” I told him as I picked up a severing tray.

“No Bakugou! We need to discuss this properly! What if we need to send Midoriya in after you?!” Iida yelled and I could just imagine him being all 90 degree angles.

“Don’t. I’ve got this.” I promise him before turning down the head piece so I couldn’t hear him yelling.

I walk back into the dinning room holding a severing tray up shoulder length. Now I just need to set it down and make it out the door as casually as possible. No one will look twice at a waiter getting off his shift. I kept my eyes focus toward the door, which is why I saw him before he saw me.

Kirishima rushed right by me headed toward the kitchens, before slowing down and turning to look at me. I turned my head to follow him, so now we were now staring at each other. His eyes trace down my body before coming back up to my face as if to check and see if I was really me.

I smirk once his eyes finally met mine, before dropping the tray I was holding and sprinting toward the door.

“Shit! Bakugou?!?” I heard him yell as he began to chase me.

I use my quirk to help me move faster through the halls, and it also provided some cover so that I could lose Kirishima. Since I was on the second story of the building I knew that the police had probably blocked off the bottom of the stairwell and all the exits. As I blast my way down the hall my eyes lock on a window. Perfect.

I used my quirk to keep the glass from cutting me as I jump through the window and another to boost my distance. I look down below me seeing the police outside the Plaza and Red Riot out there with them.

“Get hard, Shitty Hair!” I yell as I come down, my foot landing on Kirishima head which he had harden just in time. I push off it, and tuck and roll forward, pushing my body up and exploding my way forward, ducking and dodging my way around cops and a handsome hero’s hands.

I heard the gun discharge before I notice the officer who pulled it and shot a explosion toward the asshole who took the shot. Through it I could hear Kirishima yell at the officer that I was suppose to be taken in for questioning. I use this unplanned distraction as a way to lose them as I slipped into a casino.

I hid behind some of the machines as Kirishima and the officers rush in. I watch as Kirisihima looks around, before saying something to the other officers who disperse and went further into the casino. Kirishima walks down the aisle where I was hiding behind the slot machines. I slip out from behind them and made my way further in the casino. My eyes find this little old lady playing the slots so I walk beside the machine and hit it, hearing the siren go off announcing that there was a winner. I hope that would draw a crowd and hopefully keep the police busy.

As I took the diamond out to make sure it was still unharmed some guy bumped into my back making me fumble with it until I had to go over a unused blackjack table to catch it. Only to land in front of five cops all staring at me.

I smirk at them as I grab the red currant hanging next to me, and throwing them in front of me as I jump onto the ledge outside the widow.

I ran quickly realizing that I couldn’t use my quirk without severely damaging the ledge or sending my self off of it. I turn the corner of the building, running as hard as I could before jumping onto the building’s sign and onto a lower ledge.

My eyes widen as a helicopter round the corner of the building where I was standing with Kirishima hanging out of it with a megaphone.

“Give me the diamond Bakugou!” The gel in his red hair seem to be losing its hold as stay pieces blew around his face.

I smirk as I held up the diamond in question. “You know I usually have to take guys to dinner before they ask me for a diamond, but for you I’ll make an exception.”

Even though it was dark I could tell that Kirishima’s cheeks had darken just like they had high school.

“Bakugou, please. Just give me the diamond, and come with me. Let’s talk about this.” He pleaded as he held out his hand for me to put the diamond in.

I almost hated how even now Kirishima just asking something of me made me want to do it. I guess maybe I hadn’t change that much either since high school.

I reached my hand out holding the diamond and let Kirishima place his hand on it, just as his palm touched it I quickly covered it with my other hand and used his arm to swing and land on a balcony between two buildings.

“Damn it Bakugou!” I heard him yell as I ran farther down. I saw a teenage get into a old pickup truck and I quickly jumped down between the two walls and landed in the tailgate, just as it started to drive off.

I waited a good ten minutes before looking up to see which way I was headed, when I realized I was out of the city and was on a bridge. I stood up and leaped off the back of the truck using my quirk to keep me from coming down as hard. I begin to walk further down the bridge.

“Todoroki, you there?” I ask into my mic which by some miracle stayed on.

“Been here the whole time, did you manage to get Red’s number or are you waiting to be detained first?”

“I want you to remember this conversation the next time you and Deku are in the field together and I’m the one safely tucked away, making smart ass comments.”

“Noted, I have a lock on your location and I’m headed there now, anything else you wanna add?”

I take the diamond out of my jacket and pull hard at the face of it so that it would pop off. Hearing the clicking nose it made my eyes lock onto the bomb that was counting down in this hollow out toy.

“Yeah, anyway you could be here in less than ten minutes?” I asked as I watched the red numbers count itself down. I pulled the bomb free holding it in my hand.

“Bakugou Katsuki!” A voice yelled out.

My senses were flooded as blue and red lights came over the bridge and surround me. Kirishima and probably half the police force stepped out.

“You should have just come with me.” Kirishima said as he walks toward me.

“And risk missing seeing your pretty face under the pale moonlight? Never.” I watch as Kirishima harden his body and it really shouldn’t be as attractive as it was.

I move quick to dodge the officers that rush toward me as I made my way to the other side of the bridge. I didn’t need to set off any explosions with the bomb being out of its “case” so I put it in my jacket pocket, trading it out for its now hollow casing.

Kirishima grabbed my arm straightening it toward the sky and I notice then he has quirk canceling handcuffs in his other hand. I stuck my hand that has the diamond in it over the side of the bridge.

“Let me go or I drop it.” I said to him.

“If you drop it I’ll be force to cuff you and take you in.” He threaten not lowering the cuffs.

I didn’t have time for this. Technically none of us did and if I was right I could faintly hear the sound of a approaching chopper.

“If I drop it will be lost forever, and you’ll have one less vigilant on the street, but be down a priceless artifact. Which do you think the city would rather have?” I asked.

Crimson eyes glared into mine. I knew this was a gamble, but I need Kirishima to let me go and back away. After a moment Kirishima sighs, released my arm, and backed away, the rest of the officers following his lead.

I kept my eyes hard until they were far enough away, then gave Kirishima a small smile as I toss the diamond to him, before taking a running leap toward them using a small explosion to help me over them.

I jump up onto one of the eighteen wheelers use for the road block and onto the top, grabbing the rope hanging off the side of the helicopter.

Todoroki flew up to the tallest beam of the bridge and I quickly jumped off running to the other side of it and throwing the bomb as hard as I could. Watching as it got a good distance away before exploding over the water.

I glance down at the officers in blue, but my eyes lock onto the only red dot among them. While everyone else was staring where the bomb exploded, Kirishima was looking up at me.

“Alright, that’s enough heart eyes for one night. Blow him a kiss Katsuki and let’s go.” Todoroki said.

“Get fucked. I’m going to remember all of this next time Deku decides to wear leggings casually around the safe house.” I promise him as I walk over to the rope and grabbing on.

I hear IcyHot huff as I start to climb up the rope. “At least my crush doesn’t try to arrest me every time we met.”

I pull myself into the copper and take the seat next to him. I took off my headset and jacket before looking at him.

“Right which is why it’s so pathetic that you two don’t just go on a date already.” I tell him blandly.

The temperature drops dramatically and I couldn’t help but smirk knowing that I could get under his skin so easily.

“Just for that. I’m telling Iida that you gave Kirisihima the casing for the bomb.”

“Go ahead.” I reply putting my hands behind my head. “I remove the bomb from the Plaza, in my opinion our work is done. It’s up to the cops to find out why it was there in the first place.”

I could hear Todoroki sighing not wanting to explain why it was in fact important that we know and I’m sure Iida will tell me anyways. I decide to let my eyes drift close as thoughts of red hair, crimson eyes, and a smile that looked like sunshine filled my head.

Movin' along, no I won't settle down

I don't have the time to tell you

Why I do the things that I do

Just please hold on and soon you'll see

That I'm not the villain I appear to be

Movin' along, no I won't settle down

Until I'm locked behind bars or I'm kicked outta town

So you can keep on a runnin' around and around

But you will never quite catch up to me!

And I know you think I'm crazy

But I hope that maybe

Now you'll see why

I had to try!

Author’s note: I really hope you guys enjoyed this. I really enjoyed writing it! I recently watched Diamond Jack and it reminded me of the game Sly Copper I use to play as a kid and I started to see how the vigilante in Diamond Jack moved like Bakugou. And the fic was born. Let me know if you would like to see another I have a few more ideas not only with kiribaku but with Tododeku as well.

Hope y’all have a great rest of the day.

[artificialqueens]

5 times Brooke thought Yvie was fearless and 1 time Yvie showed true fear (Brooke x Yvie) - ImposterZoe

AN: For anyone who doesn’t know skyboxes are glass boxes in the Willis Tower about 80 or more stories up. Scary but worth the view IZ

1.)

Brock can’t help but flinch as a zombie jumps on the screen. As the movie progresses, he finds himself curling deeper and deeper into his boyfriend.

“Why did you let me pick this?” He whines at Jovan.

At the lack of answer, he sits up to look at Jovan. Who is fast asleep.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Brock yells, flopping back on the couch.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll protect you,” he mocks, remembering his boyfriends words from earlier. A scream erupted from the movie and a quick glance at the screen was all it took for Brock to shake his boyfriend awake.

“What’s wrong?” Jovan murmured, rubbing his eyes.

“Why’d you fall asleep?” Brock demanded. Jovan just glanced at the screen, took in the all the gore, before turning to Brock.

“It’s not my fault you picked such a boring movie, babe.”

Brock couldn’t believe his ears. “Jovan this is rated R!” He pointed out.

Jovan calmly got up and walked toward the bedroom. “I’ve been watching R-rated stuff since I was like 9.”  Brock hears the bed springs squeak as Jovan lays down. A jump scare by a particularly bloody zombie is all it takes for him to hastily eject the movie and rush to the bedroom. As he shuts the door, Jovan sleepily opens his arms and Brock doesn’t hesitate to jump inside them. He sighs softly, nuzzling into Jovan’s shirt. “Were you really scared?” Jovan whispers. Brock just nods in his shirt. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that,” Brock mumbles, “You’re fearless.”

Jovan just kisses his forehead and let’s him fall asleep.

2.)

Scarlet and Ariel shriek as they run from the back room, attracting the attention of entire room. They both dive behind Silky and peek over her shoulders. “Do you think she’ll get it?” Scarlet asks. Ariel just whimpers in response. Everyone turns to the back room as crashing sounds are heard.

“What’s going on back there?!” Brooke calls at them. Neither of them answer as they stare in fear at the door.

The room sits in silence as the crashing continues. After 10 long seconds, the door flies open.

They all stare as a very dusty Yvie clomps out, holding cupped hands out in front of her

“Did ya get it?” Ariel calls out.

“I got it,” Yvie replies simply.

“So uh… WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!” Vanjie shouts.

In response, Yvie makes an opening in her hands and they all freeze as a mouse peeks out of her hands.

“There was a fucking mouse?” Brooke asks shakily.

Yvie shrugs. “It’s a field mouse. It must’ve come from outside and got stuck, considering how clean this place is. Nothing for mice to hang around for.”

“Ok, then. Why are you holding in your bare hands?” Brooke wonders.

Yvie walks to the door leading outside and jams it open with her hip. “It’s just a mouse,” she mumbles as she smiles down at said animal and let’s it go.

“Yeah well make sure you don’t touch anyone until you wash them hands, ok Mary?” Vanjie calls. Yvie just sings out “Scaredy cats,” and walks into the bathroom.

3.)

The queens have a day off in Chicago and someone suggest going to the sky boxes at The Willis Tower. They head over and some god must be smiling on them, since the area was deserted for the moment.

Despite everyone’s eagerness to go to the sky boxes, very few queens remembered the slightly important detail…. that they were terrified of heights.

There were several mumbles of, “You go first,” “No you!” as they waited for someone to take the first step.

Jovan and Brock, who’d taken a pit stop at the bathroom walked over and assessed the situation.

Jovan calmly went to the box the furthest from the other queens, pulling Brock along. Jovan stepped into the box and stared out at the beautiful city. He went to sit down when he noticed that his boyfriend was hovering just outside.

A sly smirk formed on his lips. “Don’t tell me Brooke Lynn Hytes is scared of heights,” he teases.

“She’s not,” Brock replied, “But Brock Hayhoe fucking hates them.”

Jovan cackled for minute before he noticed his boyfriends blush and the genuine fear in his eyes.

He hurriedly walked to where Brock was standing and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s not that bad once you get used to it, babe. Come on, walk with me. One step, then another,” he whispered.

“Like a dance?” Brock whimpered. Jovan nods. “Yeah, just like a dance. There ya go.” Jovan smiles at Brock as he walked them backwards and sat him down.

Brock settled slowly, finally taking in the view. “This is,” he breathed, “beautiful.” Jovan smiled.

“Not so hard conquering a fear, huh Brock?” Brock slapped his shoulder, never once moving his eyes from the outside.

“No. You just gotta have someone like you, who’s too batshit crazy to be scared.”

Jovan just laughed as they leaned against each other, entranced by the sunlight shining on Chicago.

4.)

Brock glances at the window as a big crack of lighting illuminates the room. Thunderstorms always made it hard for him to concentrate. You never know when a storm could cause serious damage, so Brock would always to searching for signs that they should leave. Apparently the same couldn’t be said for Jovan, who was right next to the window, bent over a sketchbook.

“You know if something flew through the window you’d be dead right?” He called to his boyfriend.

Jovan didn’t even look up. “If I can’t get this sketch right, death isn’t a bad option,” he mumbles as he erased a line. Brock was about to reply when all of a sudden the lights cut out. A groan could be heard from Jovan’s general area. “Wanna just go to bed?” Brock asked to the dark after a minute.

“Yeah sure,” Jovan says right next to Brock’s ear.

As Brock screeches, Jovan cackles and darts away.

“I’m going to kick your ass.” Brock growls, thankful the dark hid his blush.

“Gotta find me first!” Jovan calls from somewhere to Brock’s left. Before he can start toward the direction, a big boom of thunder followed by a flash of lightning makes the already terrified canadian shriek.

All of a sudden Jovan was right by him, hugging him tight.

“It’s ok babe. It’s just a storm. We’ll be ok.” He mumbles, stroking his boyfriend’s back.

“Can we please go to bed?” Brock begs. Jovan nods, hopefully leading them to the bedroom and not a wall.

“I didn’t know you’d be so scared. You’re always so strong willed and emotionless,” Jovan murmurs, easing them on the bed. Brock just sighs sleepily. “I just trust you, so you get to see this side of me,” Brock mumbles. “I want to see you scared one day too.” If Jovan has any thoughts on these words, he doesn’t voice them as he kisses his boyfriend’s forehead and watches him fall asleep.

5.)  

Jovan sat straight up in bed as his boyfriend’s scream echoed through the house. He stumbled out of bed and rushed to the kitchen.

“I’m here. What’s wrong?” He said, attempting to wake himself up.  As he woke up, he realized Brock was up on the counter and was pointing at the corner. Jovan glanced at said corner and rolled his eyes.

“You screamed because of a couple spiders?!” He shouted incredulously.

“They’re big fucking spiders!” Brock shouted back.

Jovan, in his half asleep anger, marched over to the wall and slapped his hand against it, effectively killing said spiders.

“Better?” He snapped, walking over to the sink and washing his hands. Brock slid off the counter and walked over.

“I’m sorry I woke you up. But I really hate spiders.” He whispers. Jovan sighed as he dried his hands.

“I know, babe. I know. Just don’t scream when it’s nothing serious. You gave me a heart attack.” Jovan goes to hug his boyfriend, who jumps out of the way.

“Don’t touch me, spider gut hands!” He yells, sprinting out of the room.

“Bitch, you just watched me wash my hands! If you don’t get over here and hug me!” Jovan yells, running after his boyfriend.

Yvie’s one fear

Brock jumped awake as Jovan screamed into the night. He hurriedly sat up and his eyes enlarged in shock.

His usually never wants to show weakness boyfriend was thrashing, crying, and screaming at the top of his lungs. Brock stared for too long a second before lunging to the other side of the bed and shaking Jovan. As he was closer to his boyfriend, he realized that Jovan was screaming his name.

“Jovan! I’m here! I’m ok! Wake up!” He shouted, now straddling his boyfriend and shaking him.

Jovan’s eyes popped open and he sat up, knocking Brock off in the process. His terrified eyes swept the room before he found Brock.

Even though they were basically the same height, Jovan launched himself in Brock’s lap, straddling him,  and pulling him as close as possible. Brock stroked his back as the younger man sobbed in his arms.

As the sobs slowly subsided, Brock remembered his voice worked.

“Do you want to talk about what were you dreaming?” He whispered. Jovan nodded and took a shaky breath.

“It was d-dark. And I was alone. T-then,” Jovan’s breath hitched, “I heard you. Y-you were screaming my name. I-i was running and,” he gripped Brock tighter, “ You kept screaming, like someone was hurting you! I couldn’t get to you! I couldn’t help!” Jovan was sobbing again and Brock was in a state of shock.

“You were so scared… because you thought something was happening to me?” He asked.

Jovan looked up at him, his tearstained face breaking Brock’s heart.

“You’re all I need anymore Brock. I don’t know what I’d do if someone hurt you or if you were scared and I couldn’t help.”  

Brock carefully wiped Jovan’s face.

“It was only a dream but you can’t stress yourself out worrying about me. We’re not always going to be near each other, Jovan. You can’t protect me from the world.”

“But I want to!” Jovan cried.

“But you can’t,” Brock said sternly. “And you have to let go of the idea that you can.”

Jovan choked on sobs but nodded.

“I can tell there’s more.” The crying man whispered.

Brock nodded. “You’re right. I’m proud of you.”

Jovan’s head snapped up in shock.

“You let me see how scared you were as opposed to shutting me out. That means you trust me and I’m proud of you.”

Jovan broke down again, and didn’t seem to notice as Brock slowly laid them down.

“I was so scared.” He whispered quietly.

“I know. But I’m right here.” Brock leaned down and kissed his boyfriend’s forehead.

“And I’m not going anywhere.”

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “The Work Wife” Part 4

You’ve been working for The Joker for the past 10 years: you speak and act for him and no matter the circumstances, Y/N is always there to take care of everything he needs.  The King of Gotham might not be married, yet he has a perfect partner: his work wife.

Part 1          Part 2       Part 3    Part 5

The Presidential suite at Marion Hotel Casino, Las Vegas

6 days into your honeymoon

“This never happened to me before,” The Joker frowns while you lift your shoulders up, trying to be sympathetic:

“It’s ok, it happens to everybody at one point.”

“But I’m The Joker!” he reminds a relaxed Y/N that doesn’t seem to understand the severity of what just happened.

You squeeze the small, decorative pillow to your chest and lean over to kiss him:

“It has nothing to do with that; I’m telling you, it’s not that uncommon. Totally fine, don’t be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?!” J sarcastically grins. “I’m completely naked! Why do you have to rub it in my face?!”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anybody,” you fiddle with your ponytail for a few moments before reassuring: “Your reputation is safe with me.”

The Joker scratches his chin, straining to find a solution yet there’s none. His wife takes a deep breath and utters the words she’s been dying to say for the past 30 seconds:

“Checkmate!!”

“Ugh!” he kicks the chess board with his foot and the pieces fly all over the bed.

“You’re such a sore loser,” you laugh and start cleaning the mess he just made.

After rejecting the idea of playing strip poker because you knew J would cheat, you decided to go with chess since it will make the games entirely fair. In the last two hours he lost his sweatpants, t-shirt, socks, 3 gold chains, 5 rings and his Rolex and least but not last, his boxers.

“I still need payment though,” you carefully look around to make sure you’re gathering everything.

The Joker gestures towards the pile on your left containing his clothes and accessories, enunciating the obvious.

“I have nothing more to give, Y/N!”

“I’ll take one of your earrings,” you extend the palm of your hand and wait. He growls and detaches the diamond from his right ear, bitterly handing over the requested item.

“Thaaaank you,” you add the shiny stone to the rest of the stuff taken from the moody husband. “Let’s play some more,” you propose and he gets out of bed, done with the temporary entertainment that didn’t go his way.

“I think I’ll walk away while I still have an earring and a shred of dignity left.”

“Here’s your wedding ring back,” you offer the only thing you’re able to part with from the stack containing your winnings. He gives you his hand and you slide the band on his finger, closing one eye due to the discomfort in your jaw.

“Still bothers you?” J caresses the deep scar on your cheek and you peck his wrist.

“Yes, on and off; I’ll check once we’re back to Gotham,” you let yourself fall on the cushions and stretch.

“Wanna go gambling?” he crawls on top of you and you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Not tonight; I will take a pain killer and mop around here until you return.”

“Are you sure?” The Joker grumbles, nuzzling to your neck.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you get ticklish when his hands pull down on your bikini, making it obvious he doesn’t want to leave right away.

“I want my special treatment,” and you attempt to explain why he’s not going to receive the grand price of the night:

“You lost.”

“I’m already naked so I want my special treatment!”

“But you lost,” you wiggle to escape while he keeps you trapped under him.

“Don’t nag me!” J impatiently rips the strap of your lacy bra, kind of annoyed he has to put in extra effort anytime he wants to have sex;  what The King of Gotham usually got with no effort from his previous women came back to haunt him: karma is a bitch.

************* Shortly after The Joker went to the gambling VIP section downstairs, you decided to surprise him and join the fun. The pain medication worked and you feel reinvigorated: Y/N dolls up, dresses up with her favorite little black dress and high heels, ready to spend a few hours at the casino:

The Angelli brothers own the premises, their less than ordinary business partners having to use only special sections of the humongous building in order to avoid the public eye. The personnel working these areas are trained to handle the unusual guests, trusty employees that will not betray and disclose what is going on behind the closed doors.

You get out of the elevator and walk towards the VIP section, smacking your lips a few times in order to make sure the shiny lip-gloss is equality distributed. The “VIP Gold Members” neon sign hanging on the wall at the end hallway is a sign you’re close to the well-known destination.

You are about to enter the private sector when the sight of The Joker seating at one of the Poker tables with a girl in his lap abruptly halts your enthusiasm. One of the waiters carrying a tray with numerous cocktails almost bumps into you, promptly apologizing for a mistake it’s not his:

“I’m so sorry. Would you like a drink?” he offers a glass to an absent minded Y/N that couldn’t care less her dress nearly got ruined.

“No, I’m fine…” you stay behind the shiny curtains, spying on J.

5 minutes pass, 10 more, another 25.

She’s still on his knees, giggling and whispering things that make him smirk. You don’t have to be an expert in order to see what’s going on, especially since you’re a pro in reading his body language: after 11 years of being around him, you bet you can tell The Joker wants her.

Still...  Why isn’t he telling the woman to get lost? He’s here with you.

You take a deep breath and prepare for a very unpleasant confrontation when the decision is unexpectedly put on hold: the girl hops from J’s lap, eagerly grabbing his arm after he stands up from the Poker table. You quickly hide behind some decorative trees and watch them pass by, already startled by his behavior.

Once they get in the elevator you emerge from your spot and follow, waiting to see which floor J will take her to. The light indicating the 35th level stops after a few seconds and your heart stops with it: when The Joker visits The Marion Hotel, he likes to use suite number 360B for his one night stands.

How familiar you are with that room since you had to wait in front of it in the past, that way you could escort him back to his own quarters after he was done with his flings.

You are so tense on your way up to the 35th floor you unconsciously bite on the scarred cheek over and over again, ignoring the tender skin that’s hurting again. The bell ding gets you out of daze and you rush towards the end of the long corridor, dreading the imminent evidence of betrayal.

A few more steps and here you are, ready to enter the password on the electronic key pad that will reveal the truth about a marriage you thought might just work…until now. He didn’t change the code: “Batsy Is A Jerk” grants you access to the suite. You tiptoe on the hallway, careful not to make a sound. The darkness conceals your presence and the third bedroom facing the center of Las Vegas reveals what a stunned Y/N was hoping to never see: proof that she should have never altered the status of her relationship with The Joker.

He’s by the large windows looking outside, the busy night life offering a show J got absorbed into while the girl he brought with him is undressing in a hurry.

“Do you want to use the bed?” she stomps the clothes scattered on the floor, planning to help him get rid of his.

“U-hum,” he keeps on glaring at the bright lights while the woman takes off his jacket, unaware they have company.  She starts unbuttoning his shirt too when the voice coming from behind them makes her jump.

“Did you accidentally wander off in the wrong room on the way back to ours?”

You emerge from the shadows and The Joker’s eyes get big, completely surprised his wife caught him in such a compromising situation.

“Am I supposed to be on active duty on my own honeymoon and get rid of the trash afterwards?”

He’s not answering and you repeat the question: “Am I?...”

He watches you backing out until you disappear from his visual field, the slammed door a clear statement of the humiliating experience you’ve been subjected to. The girl doesn’t know how to react; J is not even listening to the words that are coming out of her mouth, numb from realizing he messed up with his carelessness.

Maybe he should have paid more attention and not bring the woman here? Take her somewhere else? Or maybe he shouldn’t have taken you for an idiot in the first place?

It just sort of happened; The Joker is so used with this life style he didn’t think twice about the fact that he’s not single anymore, actually quite unavailable due to the wedding band on his finger.

“Mister Joker,” she cups his face since he’s not blinking, “are you OK?”  

He keeps on staring at the blackness you vanished into, conflicted by the thoughts running through his head.

“Mister Joker,” the girl insists, “what’s wrong?”

His attention switches towards the person he brought there for some cheap fun: young and beautiful, the type he always goes for. No scars on her cheek, no sassy attitude to irritate him, no feistiness, no witty remarks. Just a doll in a perfect box, trained to please and satisfy her clients’ wildest desires.

But The Joker does like scars, ballsy attitude that annoys him, feistiness and clever comments: they’re all embodied in the only woman that managed to take care of everything he needed for countless years without ending up in a grave despite the dangers of such a risky job.

“Nothing is wrong,” he grumbles and abandons the girl where she stands, sprinting outside the room to try and catch up with you.

There’s no trace of Y/N on the corridor and J elects to return to the Presidential Suite because he’s certain you went back.  

He was mistaken: the place is empty.

“Call wife,” he uses voice command and Bigsby obeys without further issues since you changed the setting to his “Contacts” a few days ago when you got married from “work wife” to “wife”.

“Calling wife,” the electronic device dials your number.

You don’t pick up and he tries again, this time successfully getting a hold of Y/N.

“Where are you?” he groans, pacing around the bedroom; you are actually at the underground parking lot, getting ready to enter the car.

“Going away,” the news displeases J as much as his conduct displeased you.

“I’m waiting upstairs; I want to talk to you!” The Joker barks.

“I’m going home,” you stab the lock with the key, wanting to be as far as possible from the casino in the next 5 minutes.

“Get back here!!!” he has the nerve to act all pissed off as if you’re the one that did something bad.

The crackling sound at the other end of the line halts the conversation; you simply dropped your cell in the sewer under your SUV, leaving J hang in doubt until he comprehends the basic notion: the honeymoon is over.

*************

For 3 days he debated on his options: The Joker didn’t follow you to Gotham right away, swearing to himself he will party without his estranged wife for the rest of the planned vacation.

And he certainly did: J couldn’t sleep; Y/N wasn’t there to make his chamomile tea or keep him company until he would nap. Nobody to play strip chess with, nobody to nag him, nobody to fight with, nobody to guess what he wanted before he knew it himself, nobody to give him the special treatment he was secretly addicted to.

No work wife to tend to his whims and no wife to shower him with her affection that maybe was there for 11 years before they ended up together.

The Joker was such a party animal he went to a strip club located on the west side of the Casino and snoozed 15 minutes later after not sleeping for 24 hours straight. They didn’t dare wake him up and The King of Gotham found himself buried under bras and panties next morning, not remembering being more exhausted in his life.

He barely made it back to his quarters, burned out after the intense Vegas spree; somehow the City of Lights didn’t make him cope with your absence. That’s when J decided to ask The Angelli brothers for one of their men to drive him back home.

It was a full day trip back to Gotham and he arrived at the Penthouse around 9:32pm. He stayed there briefly, then went downstairs to your apartment ready to address the burning issue with Y/N; The Joker was sure it won’t be pretty since you weren’t one of his toys to bend and twist as he pleased.

Oddly enough, the entrance to the condo was cracked opened and he made his way in, suspecting the reason why: the place was empty. Completely empty. He stood in the doorway with his mouth opened, not believing you really left. J finally started roaming around the rooms, puckering his lips since there was no evidence of you ever being there for all those years: the apartment was spotless and you didn’t leave anything behind.

Except two items he found on your bedroom’s floor: your wedding ring placed on top of a picture depicting an image of the only tattoo on your body. The Joker gazed at the hand written note on the back of it and read the lines five times before stashing your message in his jacket:

“There’s nothing worse than doom coming from the self-fulfilling prophecy tattooed on your skin as a joke.”

The Clown prince of Crime knew it won’t be easy to find you, but he had to search for his missing bride anyway.

What is the point of having an empire if the woman that helped you build it is not there?

*************

After 2 months, Tuesday--11:12pm

“Where’s Y/N?” Jonathan Crane takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke high up in the air.

He came to the Penthouse for a business meeting with J and delivered the suitcase with valuable Liquid Dream vials himself.

“Away,” the elusive reply makes Scarecrow chuckle.

“Is she sick?” he continues the interrogation, pushing The Joker’s buttons on purpose and doesn’t hide it. “Nobody has seen her for a while.”

“No, she’s not sick,” J admits and crosses his legs on the couch he’s sitting across from Jonathan’s.

“Strange she’s not present since she never leaves your side,” Scarecrow taps the ashes from his cigarette against the ashtray on the coffee table next to him.

“Don’t try your psychology crap on me, Crane!” The Joker gets aggravated at Jonathan’s persistence.

“I have five master degrees in psychology and I like to use them on daily basis due to habit. People do a lot of things out of habit,” he nonchalantly concludes and The King of Gotham sneers:

“Cut your crap! If you have something to say, say it!!”

“I know where Y/N is,” the prompt answer makes the green haired man narrow his eyes; he didn’t expect this reply.

“Are you playing games Crane?” J’s lack of patience immediately emerges.

“No,” Scarecrow starts smoking again and warns because he noticed the insane look in The Joker’s eyes. “If you kill me, you won’t have access to any of my merchandise; I’m the only one that knows the formulas. Plus I’m the only one that knows where she’s hiding.”

“How so?” J mutters through his clenched teeth.

“Y/N came to see me about 5 weeks ago: the pain in her jaw was becoming unbearable and it turned out the metal bolts in her gums were starting to shift the bones. I performed a surgery and took out two of them in order to alleviate the pressure. I told her the scar on her cheek will be even more pronounced after it heals, but I do have a serum she could use that would make better. You know what she said?”

The Joker is contemplating murder while Scarecrow goes on:

“That she likes that scar because it reminds her of the only man that loved her. You don’t have to be a genius to know she’s referring to Kai. Believe me, it’s upsetting I didn’t make the list either; I’m sure you remember we dated for 3 years after she started working for you.”

“So what’s your point?” J’s crabbiness reaches new levels due to the unexpected memento.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you it’s not her style to jump from man to man and she is very careful in choosing her partners. I don’t presume to know Y/N’s heart, but if she had feelings for her boss for a long time she decided not to act on them,” Jonathan hints at the problem without sugar coating his insinuations. “And then something happened that triggered a change, despite the better judgment of staying away. Maybe when you got shot last year?... Perhaps she got scared you almost died and just went with it?”

“Are you lecturing me Crane??!!” The Joker raises his voice and Jonathan takes it down a notch.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Scarecrow carefully stirs the dialogue since he’s walking on egg shells now.

“WHERE. IS. MY. WIFE ?” J pauses after each word, fed up with the speech.

“I’m betraying her trust by telling you, but I’m doing it out of concern for Y/N; she is not very well after the miscarriage. I mean, physically she’s fine; mentally…” and he lifts his shoulders up,”… not sure. She won’t talk to me about anything.”

The Joker didn’t hear the rest of the sentences after the word “miscarriage.”

“What miscarriage?!” he mutters, dumbfounded; he had no idea you were pregnant.  

“I’m sure you know what that implies,” Jonathan takes a deep breath and divulges your location: “If you want to see her, she’s at my Creek Hill property. I don’t use that place and I let her stay there until she figures out what she will do next.”

J gets up from the couch, snapping at Scarecrow’s confession:

“I would thank you but due to the fact you didn’t tell me sooner you’ll have to consider walking out of here alive the best gratitude I can offer!!”

The Joker snatches his car keys from the table, heading towards the elevator.

“Now get the fuck out of my house, Crane!!!” he threatens the guest still sitting on the sofa. “I’m sure you can find the way out!” **************     J drove his purple Lamborghini to Creek Hill in the middle on the night and he encountered another major issue: Scarecrow forgot to mention the huge property is gated. He circled the whole estate four times, trying to find a gap in the fence. There was none.

The Joker wanted to jump over the fence, but it was electrified so he had no other choice besides the extreme action of driving his Lamborghini through it. He cussed all the way up to the top of the high ground, the customized vehicle not made for the steep, rocky terrain. He could hear the bottom of the car scraping against the sharp stones and lost his temper: J stopped and got out, dropping F--bombs as he assessed the severe damage to his beloved car. It would definitely need serious repairs to fix the dents and scrapes that made it look like it escaped a tornado.

He continued his journey on foot towards the lighted house he could see in the distance, using the cell phone’s flashlight app to make sure he won’t fall in a ditch. Took The Joker a good 40 minutes to reach his goal, but he finally made it to his destination.

************

You are standing on the porch, listening to the sound of crickets and frogs that gets pretty loud out here: no city noises to diminish its intensity. You take another sip of Coke and toss the container in the trash can by the swing, getting ready to call it quits for the night.

“I’m sure you’re aware I require two weeks notice if my tenants decide to leave the building I own,” the familiar voice freaks you out. You turn around to look at The Joker, alarmed to see he’s a few steps away. Making a run for it seems like a great idea, except for the fact that your husband is blocking the door that is the only escape plan you have for the moment. All you want to do is dart inside the house and barricade yourself until he leaves.

“How’s your jaw?” he asks, referring to your bandaged cheek still healing after the surgery Jonathan was talking about.

“Why are you here?” you step away from him, mad from realizing Scarecrow couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“I have nobody to make my tea,” J blurs out because it’s the first reason that popped in his mind.

“I’m sure one of your girls will be happy to oblige,” you remind him he has plenty of choices.

“I want you to make it,” he cracks his neck and you gulp, anxious from the unexpected encounter. You’re so frustrated your hideout was discovered you can’t think clearly. The Joker passes his fingers through his hair, casually admitting to the facts: “If you think you’re in pain, consider this: I didn’t get laid since you abandoned me in Las Vegas. It’s a miracle I can still walk.”

Instead of a smile following the candid confession, all The Joker sees in your eyes is hate. Pure hate. It didn’t lower your defense like he was expecting.

“Why did you go with that girl?” you lift your chin up, frustrated he has the audacity to joke about such a serious matter. “If I wouldn’t have shown up, you would have fucked her.”

“Yes,” J categorically agrees because it’s better to go with the truth giving his present circumstances.

“And then come back to our room and sleep with me.”

“Yes,” he takes a deep breath and holds it in.

“That’s disgusting!!!!! And humiliating!!!!” you scream so loud it shakes him out of apathy. You’re not really supposed to open your mouth until your wound heals, that’s why the bandage is starting to get stained with blood: your stitches are pulling at the flesh they keep sewed together.

“I didn’t care about what you did before we were together, but once you were mine I expected some loyalty!” you shout, unable to stop the tirade and the dressing covering your scar is getting redder. “Why did you ask me to marry you, hm? It’s such a cruel thing to do if it means nothing!”

“I asked because it seemed that’s what you wanted,” J finally exhales, not accustomed to have someone lashing out at him.

“You think you did me a favor?” your voice breaks under the burden of deception.

Why did he bother to come if he has nothing to say?

Your husband doesn’t have any other aces up his sleeve, but he wants you to know at least one thing:

“I’m sorry you lost the baby.”

J sees the emotions you’re trying to hide, the painful reality settling in even more since the man you conceived with is right there and actually lost his baby too. Not that it means the same to him as it does to the heartbroken Y/N.

“I’m gonna kill Jonathan!” you sniffle and start crying, blaming him for telling all your secrets to The Joker.

“Please do,” he fastly approves of your idea. “I can’t stand that arrogant asshole!”

The King of Gotham takes advantage of the opportunity and approaches, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

You don’t hug him back and he uses one hand to dig in his pocket and take out your wedding ring, figuring there’s no point in holding back now:

“If the scar reminds you of the only man that loved you, keep the ring to remind you of the one that asked you to marry him and fucked up.”

Jonathan told him about that too??!!

You start bawling your eyes out, more than upset Scarecrow was a complete snitch while J firmly squeezes you to his chest, convinced about one thing: he never wanted a woman more.

The Joker doesn’t need his work wife or his old girl back.

Just his wife.

Also read: MASTERLIST

AO3 account - same blog name: DiYunho

[eggsyunwinftw]

Missing (Eggsy Unwin Imagine)

A/N: Hey pals! Sorry, I’ve been away for so long - mock exams are getting crazy! I should be writing more soon, and I hope you enjoy this one! It’s my longest one yet - sorry it's taken so long!

ALSO - if you're not following @flippingeggsy then what are you doing?

Warnings: kidnapping, swearing, violence, angst (it’s a jolly one...)

The gun in Eggsy’s hands shook imperceptibly next to the man’s head.

Blood trickled from a wound on his temple, trailing down his cheek and running over his lips. Eggsy didn’t seem to notice; he pressed the barrel harder into the man’s face.

“Where is she?” He hissed. A crackle sounded through his earpiece and he flinched.

“I don’t know - I swear - I don’t know!” Eggsy’s smirk was almost frightening, his eyes brimming with anger and desperation.

“Wrong answer, bruv,” His voice was barely a murmur. A tense silence settled over the room.  

“Eggsy! Stop -” Cried a female voice down his earpiece. Roxy. “You can’t kill him! Eggsy, please!” The man curled into himself, moving away from the agent.

“Roxy, please - I need to know,” The line went silent. Nothing

Eggsy turned to face the man, crumpled on the ground, and pressed his foot against his neck.

“You ready to talk?” He shook his head. Footsteps could be heard, pounding towards the tiny cell.

Freezing in position, Eggsy hardened his face to a glare. Removing his foot from the man’s neck, he crouched next to him and grasped his collar, pulling him to eye level.

“Where is she, you fuck?” The man radiated tension and fear but shrugged in Eggsy’s hold.

“I don’t know. My boss took her - she’s probably dead -” Eggsy pulled his fist back, shaking with white-hot anger.

As his fist knocked out the man, he felt a sharp pain, like a bee sting, in his neck.

The world went dark. Good fucking riddance.

***

“Merlin…” Distance voices crept into Eggsy’s consciousness, familiar but barely there.

“He could have killed him, Lancelot. It’s been a year, and we’ve found sod all. I don’t know where to look,” He heard Roxy’s sigh, and could vaguely feel someone holding his hand.

“He’s desperate, Merlin. We have to keep trying.” Eggsy felt a hand brush against his cheek. The touch was gentle and familiar; he moved a little, a monumental effort to press his face further into Roxy’s palm.

“Eggsy?” He blinked his eyes open, sleep making his lids heavy. Roxy, Harry and Merlin sat around the bed, and he realised he was in the hospital. Harry patted his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

“Hey…” He murmured, avoiding eye contact when Merlin stared down at him.

“Good to see you awake, Galahad,” Roxy gripped his hand, as Merlin placed a clipboard on Eggsy’s lap.

The clipboard reacted when Merlin pressed his hand to it, the screen lighting up and showing a video. It was the man Eggsy had attacked.

“If you won’t talk to Galahad, you can talk to me. Tell us what you know.” The man was strapped to a chair, nose bleeding and eyes crazed. Harry stood in front of him, leaning against a wall with a look of dismissal on his face.

“Fuck you,” He hissed, spitting on the floor at Harry’s feet.

Tutting, Harry placed a photo on the table in front of him.

“This girl,” He said, voice sombre, “Was kidnapped some time ago. We know your organisation was involved. Tell me how, and we’ll let you go,” The man just glared at him.

Harry pulled a small knife from his pocket and twirled it through his fingers.

Still in his seat, the man flinched away, but Harry moved closer.

“Are you ready to talk, Mr Hesketh?”

Fucking Charlie. Harry stood in front of him and let the knife fall on the table.

“It’s now or never, Charlie. Tell me where she is, or I’ll kill you.”

Charlie’s eyes turned dark and fearful. If there was one person he knew not to underestimate, it was Harry Hart.

“Fine. They took her somewhere in Denmark, I think. They were going to use her to get to Galahad… But she made trouble.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, but his shaking hands were easy to see.

“And then?”

Charlie wouldn't meet Harry’s eyes, “They got rid of her. She tried to escape, one too many times, and they killed her.”

The video cut out. Eggsy leant his head back onto the pillows, feeling drained.

She was gone. They killed her. They fucking killed her.

“Eggs…” Murmured Roxy, but he shook his head and faced away.

“I just wanna go home. Please?”

The three agents nodded, all appearing shellshocked. Merlin called up a cab to take Eggsy back home - to the last place he ever saw you.

***

Eggsy had no idea how long the journey to his house was. His eyes watered as he stared out of the window, only seeing blurred lights and people passing by. It felt like hours - the minutes dragged on and Eggsy felt nothing.

Since your disappearance, he’d worked non stop to get you home. He researched, spied, followed up on leads, barely ate and slept if it wasn’t necessary to keep him working. Whenever Roxy tried to suggest that he took a break, he brushed it off. When Merlin informed his that he’d used every available Kingsman resource, Eggsy pushed harder.

But when Charlie said you were dead? He was crushed.

The reality hit him like a train; all along, he’d been convinced that he could find you, sitting in a warehouse somewhere looking ruffled and annoyed and desperate for a coffee. You were never supposed to be caught up in Kingsman business. Never supposed to get hurt.

Not once had he let himself doubt that you would come home.

He trudged into the house, noticing JB at his feet, picking up the little dog and nuzzling his fur. Setting out some food for him, and a few treats, he tried to keep moving, but the grief coated his limbs like ice. Slumping down onto the sofa, he curled into himself, pulling out his phone and seeing an old picture of the two of you. His fingers curled around the band of his signet ring, where a stone emblazoned with the Kingsman logo should reside. Eyes squeezed shut, he remembered your face when he’d gifted it to you on a necklace. Pure, unadulterated love. Fuck.

Eggsy Unwin’s sobs shook the house to its foundations.

***

It was six months later, when Eggsy sat in a meeting with Harry, Merlin and Percival, that Roy burst unceremoniously through the door, slamming her laptop down on the table and breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry! But Eggsy, you have to see this. I tried tracking Y/N’s phone like we did last time, and nothing came up,” Eggsy looked at her, confused.

She shook her head at him, letting her hair fall into her eyes.

“No, that’s not it - look, right there. I was looking at some old tech and our old trackers - they were in our glasses, right? But sometimes we put them in our weapons too. Like grenades, or shoes, or signet rings-” Eggsy jumped, yanking the ring off his finger and throwing it to Roxy. She caught it and pointed at the screen.

“Look! There’s a signal, somewhere in Kolding! From an old signet ring, like the one you gave-”

Eggsy was sprinting to the armoury before Roxy could finish speaking. Merlin shrugged and jumped up to follow.

“Percival - we’ll continue this later. Very sorry for the disruption,” Said Harry, following the trio out of the door.

***

Kolding was just as Eggsy had expected - cold, snowy and looking like a Christmas card.

Swathed in protective, insulated clothing, he made his way across the fields, following Merlin’s directions through his earpiece. In the distance, he could make out a small building.

“There!” Merlin cried, and Eggsy turned his pace into a run, stumbling on his shaking limbs like a baby deer learning to walk. The shack was tiny, rundown, and made entirely of stone. Pulling his gun out, he pressed his back into the wall, barely hearing Merlin over his pounding heartbeat.

Pushing the door open, he rushed in. His eyes darted across the shack frantically - stone walls, cracked concrete floor, a single chair leaning against the back wall.

“No,” He whispered, breath turning to fog in front of his smarting eyes. “Fuck!” Crying out, he turned and faced the wall, smashing it with his fist until he drew blood.

Under the chair was a signet ring - small, battered and belonging to you.

“Merlin…” He whispered as the sound of the aeroplane grew louder, making him flinch.

When he boarded the plane, he pressed his face against the window and closed his eyes.

***

“Morning, Galahad,” Merlin said, patting Eggsy on the shoulder and dropping a mission dossier on the table in front of him. Eggsy smiled tiredly, pulling the paper towards him. Printed on the front were a location and a name, which Eggsy typed into his glasses and scanned through the results.

His phone buzzed in his pocket - a text from his mum, thanking him for looking after Daisy the night before.

“No worries xx” he replied; the house was far too quiet nowadays, and Daisy was a welcome break from the silence.

“You look tired,” Roxy noted as she placed her things on the table and took a seat beside Eggsy.

“Thanks, Rox,” He snarked, rolling his eyes at her as she shoved his shoulder.

(He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he wasn’t tired - he was exhausted).

“You know what I mean. Ready for the mission today?” He nodded at her, smiling and ignoring the jumping feeling in his chest. It had been a year since his encounter with Charlie, but every time they went on a mission, he almost convinced himself that you would be there. Twelve months after losing you and he still couldn’t quite quell the hope that you would appear.

Roxy left the room and Eggsy followed suit, making his way to the helicopter and slipping into the armoury along the way. He grabbed a gun from the shelf next to him, a lighter shaped hand grenade and slipped a signet ring onto his finger.

“Eggsy!” Called Roxy, exasperation creeping into her voice. Dashing out of the room, he rushed up the steps and slumped down next to her in his seat. Merlin raised his eyebrows, but Eggsy grinned back at him. The rush of a mission always made him feel alive; adrenaline pumped through his veins and made his heart pound. He was sharp, awake and alert.

Roxy tucked her legs up on the chair, swivelling to look at Eggsy.

“You’ve perked up,” She noted, pulling out a pack of cards and passing half to Eggsy. He took them and dealt a few out, ready to pass the time in their usual style.

“What can I say? I ain’t missing out on a mission like this,” Roxy nodded, looking a little concerned. He was used to that expression on her - she’d been very protective of him since you had disappeared.

“Landing in five minutes, agents,” Called Merlin from the cockpit.

Eggsy settled down into his seat, squeezing Roxy’s hand.

Thank you, he seemed to say.

***

The mission was over in a hail of bullets, with Eggsy pressed against a wall, gun in hand and heart beating like a horse on a race track.

Roxy had run off to find the computers and Eggsy could hear the sound of her breathing, distant and faint in his earpiece. He rounded the corner, gun held out as he glanced down the corridor but saw no more attackers. Just before he turned to to head to the evacuation point, he heard Roxy gasp through his earpiece.

“Lancelot?” He said, but there was no response. “Lancelot?” A knot of anxiety formed in his chest as his lungs filled with cement. Not again, he thought. I can’t lose anyone else.

“Galahad…” Roxy’s shaking voice slipped into his ear. At first, he didn’t acknowledge it, but when his brain caught up, he felt his legs moving down Roxy’s path.

“You alright?” He murmured and heard an affirmative noise from his friend.

“I’m okay, but Galahad - hurry, please,” He ran faster, feet pounding against the concrete until he rounded a corner and saw Roxy’s shadow in the doorway.

“Roxy -” He called out as he entered the room - and promptly dropped his gun as his legs gave out.

Crouched in the corner of the tiny cell was Roxy, holding the hand of a small, frightened figure leaning against a wall.

And it was you.

Eggsy felt his heart in his throat and his eyes looked you up and down, drinking in every inch of your skin.

“What?” He murmured, voice hoarse. Your head rose and you locked eyes with him, yours surrounded by dark circles and bruises, his shining with tears. Neither of you moved, staring at each other until you opened your mouth.

“Eggsy…” He stumbled forwards as Roxy moved out of the way, and he slumped onto his knees before you. Tentatively he reached out taking your cold, shaking hand in his and squeezing as gently as possible. You looked at him and saw the way his jaw clenched to suppress his sobs.

He could barely speak as he stuttered out a question, “How are you here? I thought -” You shook your head and your muscles ached at the movement.

“I didn’t think you were gonna come,” You whispered, and Eggsy let his tears fall. He moved forwards, monitoring your reactions and trying to keep you comfortable.

He was shocked when you launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and burrowing your face into his shoulder. Clinging to you, he pulled you closer and pressed kisses into your hair between sobs.

“I love you,” He whispered, “I‘m so sorry.” You shook your head and pulled back slightly, pressing your forehead against his as tears streaked through the grime on your skin.

“How long’s it been?” You whispered and watched him flinch away, his breaths coming in dogged pants.

“A year,” He whispered, “An’ it feels like it’s been a hundred and I fucking love you,” You rested a hand on his cheek, shaking like a leaf and running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I didn’t - they said you weren’t - I thought they’d kill me, but they just moved me around, every few days,” He gripped you tightly and cringed when he felt the dried blood on your clothes.

Holding your waist, he furrowed his brow and stared into your eyes, “How long have you been here?” You closed your eyes, leaning against him.

“About a month. They said you - you stopped looking after a few months, but I left the signet ring-” He gasped and shook his head frantically.

“No, love, I never stopped! I found the ring but you were gone an’ I lost it, babe,” Burrowing your face into his neck, you kissed his shoulder and cried harder.

“- I was out of my mind without ya’, sweetheart.”

His strong arms encircled you tightly, holding your weakened frame close to his chest. When you moved your heart to look at him, he grabbed your face and kissed you hard. Your lips were chapped and cold, and your tears mingled with his as you kept kissing him.

He pulled you closer and pressed his lips to your head, before he pulled away and shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders and lifting you into his arms.

“Let’s go home, babe.” You curled into his arms and for the first time in a year, you felt safe.

[audreycritter]

Fic for @cerusee​ Gen/Family Bonding Young!Jason Todd Rated: T

The massive clock ticked off the seconds of the fourth quarter and far below on the field, players were moving into formation at the Gotham Knights offensive twenty yard line. They looked minuscule from the windows, so the few people in the luxury box mostly watched the game on a huge flat screen television mounted in front of a curved leather couch.

On the other side of the room, a table with the remnants of catered h’or d'oeuvres was set back against the wall, beneath framed and signed photographs.

Bruce Wayne was doing three things at once, during the last quarter of the game. He was giving just enough attention to the score that he could react appropriately during plays. He was keeping up a buddy-buddy conversation with two executives that were considering merger deals that let Wayne Enterprises essentially buy out company control in return for shared accounts and research funding.

And finally, he was occasionally twisting around on the couch to glance at Jason Todd. The tiny thirteen year old could still pass for eight or nine despite the fact that he'd single-handedly cleared about a third of the catered snacks himself. The boy had been visibly excited at the prospect of the luxury box when Bruce had mentioned it, but the thrill had clearly faded when it became clear that Bruce was busy, in a way, and that there wasn't much to do other than watch a football game.

Jason wasn't, for all his protests, really that interested in sports.

A few times, Bruce had tried to draw him into conversation at least, to alleviate the boredom, but Jason was sullen and silent around the other men. Despite that, he had refused a quiet offer to have Alfred pick him up early. And now, while the last minutes of the game ticked away, Jason was lying on his stomach on the deep, plush carpet near the table, flipping through a Car & Driver magazine. Occasionally, his hand would snake upward and he'd snatch another miniature spinach quiche off the table.

With a frustrated slant to his mouth, Bruce turned back around when the others cheered, just in time to see a touchdown victory dance on the screen.

Half an hour later, the Knights had won their game by a narrow margin and Bruce Wayne had informally closed two separate deals, bolstered with good spirits from the scoreboard and expensive wine. The last of the guests in the Wayne luxury box shook hands with him in turn and left by the private hallway, on a tour to meet the team post-showers.

Bruce declined to join them, claiming he was tipsy and didn't want to slow them down. He was not tipsy. He'd had one glass of wine to their three each.

Once the door closed behind them, he turned to find Jason standing at the window overlooking the field and pressing his face against the glass to take more of the view in.

“This is so high,” he breathed, despite the fact that they went higher when they patrolled.

Bruce joined him at the window.

“It's pretty far up,” he agreed.

Jason breathed on the glass and wrote his initials in the fog, and before it had even faded, he tore himself away from the window and flung himself across the leather couch.

“That was so boring,” he complained. “Do you even like those guys?”

“It's not my job to like them,” Bruce answered, loosening his tie. “It's my job to make them think I do.”

Jason flopped backward and somersaulted off the couch and sprang to his feet. He walked through the sitting area in front of the television, trailing one hand on the leather of the couch arms, and then hopped up the step to the kitchenette.

“That seems slimy,” Jason said bluntly, opening cabinet after cabinet and peering inside. He punched buttons on the shiny microwave and then cancelled the beeping operation. “Man, I could live here.”

Bruce was content to let him explore, now that he realized this is what Jason had been waiting to do and wouldn't do in front of guests. He stretched out on the couch, thinking maybe he could doze for ten minutes before heading back to the Manor and suiting up for patrol.

It wasn't long before he was half-asleep, listening to the opening and closing of drawers, debating facing Jason’s wounded anger to insist that the lad stay home and sleep after a long day. Alfred would come around with the car when Bruce called and maybe the ride home would be a good place to deal with the reaction in a contained way.

“Hey, B,” Jason said, from close to Bruce's face. Bruce opened one eye. The boy was hanging over the back of the couch, his eyes mere inches from Bruce’s. “I'm not kiddin. I could live here.”

“You're not going to live in the luxury box,” Bruce said, yawning.

“It's got everything,” Jason insisted. “A bathroom. A kitchen. The best carpet. A TV. I could sleep on the couch.”

“Jay-lad, you have a bedroom at the Manor. This kitchen doesn't even have a stove.”

“Don't need a stove for Spaghettios,” Jason answered, balancing on his stomach on the couch back. He slipped and toppled onto Bruce’s head but didn't rush to leap off, like he might have a year ago. “Puhleeeeeese, just a week. I'd do so much homework, I swear.”

“You do all your homework now,” Bruce answered, his voice muffled by Jason’s shirt and belly.

The boy slid to the floor in a heap and rubbed fiercely at his stomach. He craned his neck so Bruce could see his angry expression.

“That tickled. I hate being tickled.”

“I hate being suffocated. Call it even?”

Jason grumbled.

“I don't know why you'd have an awesome place like this and not wanna use it.”

“We did use it. Today.”

“For boring stuff!” Jason yelled, throwing his arms in the air and falling from sitting on the floor onto his back next to the couch. “One night. Just one. We can rough it like Robinson Crusoe.”

“I don't think Crusoe had deep-pile carpet,” Bruce said wryly, closing his eyes again.

“Like the Swiss Family Robinson, after they built their tree house,” Jason said, sitting up again. Bruce sensed, rather than saw, the motion. “Please, just one night. One night and I won't complain about anything for a month. For the rest of my life.”

“That's a pretty big commitment. What if you live until you're ninety-seven?” Bruce asked, resigning himself to no dozing. He sat up and rubbed his face.

“Eww,” Jason said, his lips curled in disgust. “I'm not getting gross-old. I'm gonna die when I'm like normal old, like forty-five. I'll have a dozen cars and a shit-ton of money and a girlfriend.”

Bruce bit back a laugh and tousled the boy’s hair.

“Normal old, huh,” he said. “Don't let Al hear you cuss.”

“Yep,” Jason said. “I got it all planned. So, can I stay the night?”

Bruce unknotted the tie he'd loosened earlier and pulled it all the way off. He threw it over the back of the couch and stood. He mussed Jason’s hair again and went to the box phone on the wall by the kitchenette. He was acutely aware of Jason’s eyes tracking his every moment.

“Alfred. Yeah, we’re done. No, change of plans. I need a few pizzas and two sleeping bags. Maybe a book or two.”

“Stuff for s’mores!” Jason shouted. Bruce turned. The kid was standing on the back of the couch like it was a balance beam.

“And stuff for s’mores. No, I know. No, I'm not going to light a fire in the box. Yeah, I'll see you in a bit.”

Bruce hung up and Jason whooped loudly and jumped from the couch onto Bruce’s back. Bruce kept his balance and Jason leapt back off.

“I can't believe this,” he said, pressing his hands to his cheeks and smooshing his own face together. “This is gonna be the best thing ever. I promise. You won't even want to go home after.”

“I doubt that,” Bruce said. “But one night might be fun. Did you want to explore the stadium while we wait for Alfred?”

“Are we gonna have to pretend to like boring old guys?” Jason asked suspiciously, glancing over his shoulder toward the glass with a guarded frown.

“Not if I can help it,” Bruce said. He was about as done playing nice as Jason seemed to be. “I'll race you up the steps. From the field to the peanut gallery.”

Jason’s suspicious gaze turned immediately disdainful.

“I shoulda known,” he muttered sourly.

“What?” Bruce asked, bewildered.

“That this was a ruse to get me to exercise,” Jason grumbled. He sank to the floor with a dramatic sigh. “B, I ate like, an entire whale. If I run I'm gonna hurl all over the whole freaking stadium, like so much it'll make even you sick.”

“We don't have to run,” Bruce said, shrugging a shoulder. “I just thought you were probably fast enough to beat me by now.”

Jason moved his arm off his face to squint up at him.

“You think so?” he asked.

Bruce shrugged again.

“Maybe. It's okay. We can find out some other time.”

Jason was at the door by the time Bruce blinked. The boy tugged the door open and yelled over his shoulder, “C’mon, slowpoke! You make snails look fast!”

Despite the sound of rushing feet in the concrete hallway, Bruce took the time to peel his suit jacket off and leave it behind on the couch.

“How the hell do we get down? Heck, I mean,” Jason yelled from outside the box. “Never mind! I'm gonna jump this railing!”

“Don't--” Bruce shouted back, but he was interrupted by the sound of a body landing on a hard surface and then rushed almost-nervous laughter, followed by a whoop.

By the time he emerged on the lower platform above the steps in the empty stadium, Jason was already turning cartwheels on the field. Bruce went down the steps, taking his time. He'd barely set foot on the bottom path before Jason scaled the concrete barrier to join him in the stands again.

“OnetwothreeGO!” Jason yelled, sprinting past him as soon as he'd vaulted over the rail. He was up a dozen steps by the time Bruce turned and started up them by twos.

He hung back a little until Jason started lagging, halfway up, and then quickened his pace until he was beside him. Right as he was going to pull ahead to see if Jason would push himself to keep up, the boy ducked his head drove forward, then launched himself off the edge of a stadium seat and onto Bruce's back.

For a moment, Bruce staggered, slipping sideways with the force in his slick dress shoes that weren't exactly made for running smooth cement stairs. He regained his balance and picked up speed.

“Uuughhh,” Jason said from near his ear. “This was a bad idea.”

“Should I stop?” Bruce asked, slowing a little.

“Not unless you're too weak, old timer,” Jason retorted.

A minute later, they were at the top and Bruce turned to survey the stadium. Jason was draped across his back and after a nerve-wracking hiccup, he sighed and said, “Okay, I swallowed it. I think I can hold it down.”

“That's gross, Jay,” Bruce said affectionately, heading for the elevator. “C’mon, you can lie down on the couch.”

Back in the luxury box, Jason sprawled out on the leather and didn't move until Alfred knocked on the door. Bruce opened it to see the older man standing with two pizza boxes and a sack of supplies.

“The sleeping bags are still in the car,” Alfred said, as Jason rolled off the couch.

“I'm starving,” Jason said, taking both of the pizzas. “All we had for lunch was snacks.”

Bruce faltered under Alfred’s stern glare of reproof and he turned to the boy, who had already flipped back the cardboard lid of one pizza.

“Ten minutes ago you were complaining you'd eaten too much,” he said, hoping to salvage himself in Alfred’s estimation.

“That was like, forever ago,” Jason said. “We were waiting for half my life.”

“It was finger food,” Bruce said firmly, deciding to take the offensive. “He ate.”

“Hm,” Alfred said in a noncommittal way. “I'll return with the sleeping bags. Should I remain available this evening?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Bruce said, watching Jason hold a piece of pizza with his teeth while he searched cabinets for plates. “Take the night off.”

“No post-midnight activities, I presume?” Alfred asked from the doorway.

“I think we’ll skip tonight,” Bruce confirmed.

In the kitchenette, Jason froze. He took the pizza slice with one hand to free his mouth, so he could ask, “Do we have to?”

“One or the other, kid,” Bruce said, glancing out the window at the skyline beyond the stadium walls. It was actually right inside the city and a lot closer than the Cave.

“No,” Alfred said sternly from behind. “We are not relocating.”

“One or the other,” Bruce repeated with a small sigh. “A night off is okay.”

When Alfred brought the rest of the supplies up and said farewell, Jason took a break from wolfing pizza down to shove the couch back and unroll the sleeping bags. Bruce ducked into the bathroom to change out of his suit, and when he reemerged, Jason was lying on the bed he'd made with more pizza, flicking through channels on the television.

“I didn't even know that had cable,” Bruce said, sitting on the floor with him and taking another piece of pizza. Jason found a B-list action film and tossed the remote aside.

“Eew,” Jason said a few minutes later, covering his eyes but continuing to watch through splayed fingers. “Does it really look like that when someone’s head is blown off?”

“Give me that remote,” Bruce said, reaching over the boy. He changed the channel and then added, “Yes. It was pretty close.”

“Ugh, you know the coolest shit,” Jason said, fighting half-heartedly for the remote. “Go back, I wanna see if they win.”

“They win,” Bruce said, holding the remote above his head. Jason apparently didn't care enough to stand up and really go after it. “It's the formula. We're sticking with something less likely to get either of us in trouble with Alfred.”

“Brown-noser!” Jason moaned. “You just hate it if I have fun.”

“I do,” Bruce replied, leaving the TV on an old sci-fi show instead. “I hate when anyone has fun.”

“I'm gonna make a s’more,” Jason said, pushing himself up. “I'll even make one for you, just ‘cause you'll hate it for being delicious.”

Bruce leaned back against the couch and watched the dark sky out the window. The microwave hummed and Jason whistled and drummed his hands on the counter until the whistling and drumming both cut off abruptly.

“Fuck,” he heard the kid say under his breath. Bruce looked over toward the kitchenette. Jason’s face was a picture of panic and he was reaching for the microwave door with a towel. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit,” he yelped while Bruce was climbing to his feet.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, jumping over the couch. The microwave was steaming and he snagged Jason around the waist and pulled him back while it hummed then beeped. White ooze seeped from the edges of the microwave door and the whole glass was a solid pale gray.

“Uhhh,” Jason said, his eyes wide.

Bruce scanned the counter and took the towel from Jason. The marshmallow bag was half-empty already.

“How many did you put in there?” Bruce demanded and Jason stepped back.

“I don't…” Jason said, his hands clenched into fists. “I didn't count. I was gonna…”

Bruce unplugged the microwave just in case and gingerly sprang the door open, jumping back as steam and goopy, sagging marshmallow oozed out onto the counter. He turned and Jason was gone.

“Jay,” Bruce said, trying to keep the edge of annoyance out of his voice. He hadn't heard the door open or shut. He studied the room and there was a telltale lump inside one of the sleeping bags. He gave the marshmallow mess a rueful frown and abandoned it for the moment.

Across the room, he knelt next to the lump and prodded it.

“Do we have to go home?” Jason asked from within, sounding wretched and embarrassed.

“No. Come help me clean this up. Maybe we can save some in a bowl and make a dip.”

Jason’s face peeked out of the sleeping bag, his cheeks tear-streaked and his eyebrows bunched in a worried, angry glare.

“You can just say I'm stupid,” Jason said stubbornly.

“Why would I lie to you?” Bruce asked, offering a hand. “Come help me find some spoons.”

Jason let himself be pulled to his feet and he dragged himself to the kitchenette and started opening drawers to look, slamming each one shut after.

“At least you didn't start a fire,” Bruce said. “First time I tried to make tea for Alfred, I caught the kettle on fire.”

Jason grinned suddenly and looked up.

“I bet he was mad.”

“He was mostly worried. We took care of it.”

Jason handed him a spoon and a bowl.

In the end, it took forty minutes to clean the mess. Half of it ended up in the bowl, another fourth Jason ate straight with a spoon while they worked, and another fourth was scraped off with damp paper towels and soap.

Bruce rewarmed the hardening mass in the bowl and Jason gleefully stirred in broken chocolate bars. Bruce would have preferred to just try from scratch with the rest of the bag, but after twenty minutes of indirectly encouraging Jason back to a good mood, he was reluctant to undo his work.

They sat in front of the television and used graham crackers like chips until even Bruce was feeling a little ill. He expected Jason to need to go run off the sugar rush, but the boy had the opposite reaction and was nearly tipping over with sleep-lidded eyes.

He curled up in the sleeping bag when Bruce took the bowl away and yawned.

“B,” he said, in a sluggish voice. “Are you sure we can't live here?”

“I'm sure,” Bruce said. “But a night’s not bad.”

“A night is the best,” Jason mumbled. “Did Al pack my Nancy Drew book?”

Bruce tugged the monogrammed duffle bag closer to him from the end of the couch and rifled through it.

“He did,” Bruce said, pulling the book out.

“I'm on chapter seven,” Jason said with another yawn. “I'm too tired to read.”

“You want me to read?” Bruce surmised. After a second’s thought he decided it wasn't the right time to prod Jason into just outright asking, considering how well the boy had done during the day.

“Yeah,” Jason said sleepily. “Chapter seven. Do the high voice for Nancy.”

“What high voice?” Bruce asked, acting falsely affronted.

“That one you use when you tell Alfred things Selina said that annoyed you,” Jason insisted. “I’ve heard you.”

Bruce sighed and opened the book and resolved to be more careful in the future about conversations he assumed were private.

“Chapter Seven,” he said.

“We really could live here,” Jason interrupted. “It's right in the city.”

“Don't tempt me, Jaylad,” Bruce warned. “And hush. You wanted me to read.”

Jason giggled every time Nancy had dialogue and was asleep before the end of the chapter. Bruce set the book aside, turned off the light, and stretched out in his own sleeping bag.

He looked around the dark room and then over at Jason, sleeping with his face smashed into the little nylon pillow. Drool trickled out of the boy’s mouth and onto the bag. Bruce reached over and used Jason’s own shirt to wipe it off.

Then he leaned back and closed his eyes. It was actually nice to go to sleep before midnight for once.

He woke with the sun streaming through the huge windows and Jason leaning over him.

“Get up!” he ordered. “We’re nearly out of supplies. I'm making marshmallow dip for breakfast so we don't starve.”

“We’re not going to starve,” Bruce said, grabbing Jason’s ankle when the boy tried to rush off. “Call Alfred. We’ll get breakfast on the way home.”

“Marshmallow dip or we waste away!” Jason shouted, kicking at Bruce’s wrist with his other foot. “Lemme go!”

Bruce resigned himself to his fate and released the kid. He rolled over and buried his face in his arms.

“When Alfred gets here, we pretend we haven't eaten yet.”

“Deal,” Jason agreed. “But he’s gonna know anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bruce nodded. “But we can go down fighting.”

“Or live here forever!” Jason crowed, jabbing microwave buttons. “Luxury box kings!”

Bruce laughed and tried to go back to sleep.

He did not succeed.