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porcelana-r0ta · 2 years ago

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The Curse of Sight, Part 4

[Part 1] [Part 3] [Part 5]

[Ao3 Link] (Available only to Ao3 users)

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Tim Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat.

Ever since Wayne Enterprises’s TikTik went live, Wes has been upgraded from go-fer to Rebecca’s unofficial assistant. He mostly helps pin microphones or scribes for her as she dictates scripts. Sometimes he’s a runner to other departments when she’s too impatient to wait for emailed replies. She also gives him “homework” in the form of scrolling through his TikTok FYP and reporting to her on popular trends and audios so she can keep an eye on teenagers’ interests.

The only real thing he’s still doing with his original internship is his morning coffee runs, which Tim Drake will only occasionally join him on. Not always—he is the co-CEO of WE—but enough that Wes starts to relax on his “Red Robin and Batman are going to rip out my spinal cord” anxieties. His two main concerns are now just “What if Jade tries to make me go back to being a go-fer” and “What if Rebecca wants me to be in another TikTok?”

He’s still running interference with the other teenagers from Amity Park over that one. Especially with Tucker, who had only become more insufferable when he got the letter containing Tim’s signature.

“Wes,” he said into the phone when Wes had finally answered the call instead of pressing decline like he’d done six consecutive times beforehand. “Wes, buddy. I—I need to meet with Tim Drake-Wayne. This is a matter of life and death. WayneTech is only releasing one more PDA and then they’re shutting the PDA line down completely in favor of regular tablets. I can’t let that happen. Wes, please!”

“I think it’s too late for that,” Wes had replied. “Like, this is already in motion. Also, Mr. Drake-Wayne and I aren’t really friends.” He conveniently left out the part where they had known each other long enough to probably be considered friends, at least by normal civilian standards. Wes certainly considers Tim one, at least, but he’s not sure how mutual it is. “I’m just an intern who ran into him on a coffee run, and I got his signature. There’s not much more I can do for you.”

Tucker made the sound of a dying lamb, “Wes, please. I’ll do anything.”

Wes paused, tempted to say, Then admit what Danny is.

He bit his tongue and cleared his throat, “Anything?”

“Anything, man. Please!”

“Then perish.” Wes ended the call and ignored Tucker’s resulting onslaught of texts.

But that was a few days ago, and now Tucker only intermittently asks for Wes to convince Tim to save his beloved line of WayneTech PDAs. Wes wants to send a mean text about outdated technology, but he manages to hold back and continue to leave the other on unread.

Maybe it’s still mean to ghost (ha) him like that, but it’s also mean to harass Wes about the PDAs when he’s just a lowly intern. He just gets the fucking coffee.

(Nevermind the whole, you know, the friendship is real thing.)

Soon, getting coffee for the 73rd floor with Tim turns into hanging out with Tim for a few hours after their shifts. It starts slowly, with Wes mentioning off-hand that he’s going to the library, and Tim mentioning that he hasn’t been to the library in a while, so Wes invites him out. And they go to the library, check out some books, and then realize, Oh, hey, it’s a little late. Wanna head to Batburger for some food? And then they go out to eat and take turns reading the first chapter of the books they’ve chosen to each other.

And then Wes is inviting him over to his house, or Tim is inviting him out to eat, or to the movies, or whatever. No invitation to Wayne Manor, not that Wes expects one or even really wants one—a house full of Bats? No, thanks.

And Wes wasn’t kidding about the kidnapping/hostage bait, either: just last week, Dick Grayson had been held hostage in Bludhaven, not as a police officer, but as Brucie Wayne’s beloved first child. Interestingly enough, it wasn’t even Bludhaven’s own hero Nightwing who saved the day, but rather Gotham City’s Batman and Robin.

So, yeah. Not being spotted at the Manor? Tim wearing sunglasses and hoodies whenever they hang out in public? Totally fine by Wes, thank you very much.

Plus, it keeps Tucker from really blowing his phone up.

“Hey,” starts Tim one day after being invited over to Wes’s house after work. “Do you think you and Rebecca would be willing to work at a Wayne Gala?”

They’re lazing about on the couch in the living room with Criminal Minds playing on the TV before them. They’re both under separate fuzzy throw blankets with a bowl of popcorn taking up residence on the middle cushion between them.

Wes tilts his head, considering, “What gala? And when?” And more importantly, “Will we be getting overtime for it?”

Tim snorts and shoves a fist full of popcorn into his mouth, chews, swallows, then says, “The Pride Gala toward the end of the month. The 26th. And yes, you’ll get time and a half.”

“Ah,” says Wes. He remembers how much more openly supportive of LGBTQ+ rights Bruce Wayne had become when Tim began dating some guy named Bernard Dowd from his school last year. (Not that he hadn't been supportive beforehand.) They’ve been broken up for a while, but he knows the two are still on friendly terms because the tabloids publish photos of them hanging out every once in a while and hypothesize that the flame is rekindling. “I mean, I have literally no other friends in Gotham, so I’m game. I don’t know about Rebecca, though. She probably has a life.”

“Probably?” Tim asks.

He shrugs, “I mean. She makes a lot of memes. I don’t know what your social life is like if you make as many memes as she does.” He shakes his head to himself, then asks, “I’m guessing you want something on TikTok about the Gala?”

“Yeah.” Tim shifts on the couch so he can face Wes more, and Wes turns as well. “Bruce says that some of Gotham’s elite need a reminder that he’s not a fan of their bigotry and that he doesn’t like doing business with idiots.”

Well. That sounds like the Brucie Wayne who loves his children and made a whole public spectacle of babying Dick Grayson after his rescue in Bludhaven last week.

“I’m down if Rebecca is down,” Wes says. “I don’t know about going if she can’t make it, though. I don’t think I’d do well around rich people without a poor person by my side. Eat the rich and all that—no offense.”

Tim snorts at that, “None taken. We can be kinda snobby. I hope I don’t come off too snobby?”

“Well, you haven’t asked me about my favorite place to go skiing yet, so you’re doing pretty good.”

“I haven’t even been skiing,” Tim says.

Wes thinks about how during his cyberstalking of Tim, he’d found several pictures of the Drake parents on their own skiing vacations, all suspiciously missing Tim, even though he’d have been old enough to attend according to the time stamp. His heart clenches and his body goes cold.

He wraps the blanket around him tighter, “What, no way! That’s criminal. That’s, like, the basic necessity of proving wealth. You need to have Mr. Wayne take you some time.”

Tim’s nose wrinkles in disgust, “Just call him Bruce. Hearing ‘Mr. Wayne’ from someone who isn’t a journalist or an employee is weird.”

“Tim. I am an employee.”

His friend’s ears go a smidge red, probably embarrassed to have forgotten so easily, if Wes had to guess, “You hardly count. Besides, I don’t wanna go skiing. I’d probably break all my limbs.”

Ah, right. The classic “I’m too clumsy to be a superhero” defense. The only Waynes who couldn’t use that excuse were Dick Grayson (a literal Flying Grayson) and Damian Wayne, who would probably pop a blood vessel if he was anything less than the perfect heir.

Danny was genuinely clumsy, at least. Even before he dropped all those beakers in science, he was always tripping over literal air.

“Well, you can do some other rich person activity. Like, I dunno, having a pet tiger, or something.”

“Damian would love that. He has a pet cow in a barn on the Wayne property.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I would never lie.”

“What’s its name?”

“Her name is Bat-Cow.”

….You’re fucking kidding me.

“Like… after Batman?” These people aren’t subtle. Why the fuck is Wes the only person capable of figuring anything out? Why was he cursed like this?

Or is it the other way around? Is everyone else just cursed with obliviousness, and Wes has some kind of immunity?

“Yeah, like Batman. It’s because she has a spot on her forehead that looks like a bat.”

“Of course she does.” Because why not? It’s not like anyone but Wes has eyes and brain cells, after all. Hell, the Waynes might as well dress up as their alter egos for Halloween. It’s not like anyone will fucking notice. Gotham society would probably have a grand ol' laugh about the ridiculousness of Brucie Wayne dressing up as the Bat. Ha, impossible!

“She’s the reason Damian is a vegetarian.”

“Okay, that’s adorable.”

“It’s really not. He’s a Demon Spawn.”

“That’s a rude thing to call your little brother.” Never mind that he’s called his cousin, Kyle, much worse.

“Ew, spoken like an only child.”

“Shut it. Do you guys have any other pets?”

Tim nods, “Yeah. They’re all Damian’s, though. He has a cat named Alfred the Cat, who isn’t to be confused with Alfred Pennyworth, the butler who’s honestly more like our grandpa and Bruce’s dad. Then there’s Titus, a dog. And Dick has a dog named Haley who he sometimes brings to the Manor for ‘playdates’ with Titus, but it’s really so Damian can fawn over her without feeling embarrassed over it.”

“Gross, that’s sickeningly sweet.” Wes chews some popcorn consideringly, “You know… that might be a good TikTok, too.”

“What? Meeting the pets?”

“No. Well, yes.” He thinks back to some of his mother’s rants, and then Rebecca’s own rants. “Not to make it sound like my mom just tells me everything, but she says that the public views Damian as kinda snobby. Or at least stiff. Letting him do some kind of ‘introducing the Wayne Family Pets’ TikTok might help with that. People love pets."

“Yeah, well, Damian hates cameras.” Tim’s voice is more than a little tense, and Wes doesn’t need to be told in words that he’s walking into more dangerous territory.

He shrugs, “Just an idea. If Damian is uninterested, he doesn’t have to. I just figure that using the pets—animals he loves enough to go vegetarian over—to humanize him to the press would be easier than, like, traumatizing him on Good Morning, Gotham or something.”

Wes doesn’t mention how a lot of the press and public’s view of Damian stems from racism thanks to his obviously Middle Eastern blood. He doesn’t think he needs to—Tim and the rest of the Waynes are already well aware.

“He’d traumatize them, really. But I see your point.”

Wes snorts, if only to keep up his façade, “He’s a twelve-year-old boy. What can he do?”

Tim gives an amused smile, an inside joke that he doesn’t know Wes is in on, and says, “Yeah, you're right.”

xxXxx

At work the next day, Rebecca squeals with delight when Wes asks her about going to the Pride Gala for work, and immediately starts drawing up script ideas. Halfway through Script #5, she freezes, and says, “Oh my god, I have nothing to wear to the Gala!”

Wes looks at her in confusion, “What do you mean? We’re basically going as the help. Can’t we just wear something professional?”

She sends him a withering glare, “Ugh, you’re such a teenage boy. This is a Wayne Gala! And even better, it’s the Pride Gala! All the donations go to the Trevor Project. We– we can’t just show up in sweats and a hoodie!”

“That’s… that’s not at all what I was suggesting? I said professional? Does professional mean something different in Gotham?”

Rebecca’s brow is pinched, “Listen. This is a Wayne Gala. That’s a big fuckin’ deal, you non-Gothamite. Even the press dresses up for the Galas.”

“Oh, okay.” Uncertain, Wes pulls out his phone and texts Tim about her concerns.

W: Hey Tim Rebecca says that we can’t wear prof clothes to the gala bc we’ll look too homeless. Is there, like, an actual dress code to follow?

The reply is swift for someone who is a CEO of a whole entire Fortune 500 company.

T: Don’t worry about clothes. WE will provide a fitting and the formal wear for you both to keep. I assume this means Rebecca is down?

W: Yeah. And I’ll let her know.

“Tim says that WE is gonna provide the formal wear,” he tells her while she’s in the middle of a panic attack.

“Are you texting him right now?” Rebecca asks. “Ask him when we need to be fitted. And make sure he knows we won’t be fitted outside of work hours unless we’re getting time and a half.”

Wes rolls his eyes but obligingly relays the message.

T: I am going to talk to Damian about your idea today. If he is receptive, I am thinking that you and Rebecca would clock in like normal on Friday but would accompany me to be fitted, and then go to Wayne Manor to film that “introduction to the Wayne Family Pets” TikTok.

W: Let me run that by Rebecca

He explains the idea they’d discussed yesterday about the pets, and then Tim’s proposal for Friday. Instead of verbally saying anything, Rebecca snatches his phone from him and ignores his indignant yelp, and plays an impressive game of keep-away as she types something with one hand and uses her other hand to bat away his angry attempts to reclaim his property. After a few moments of this struggle in her tiny cubicle, Rebecca lets out an “ah-ha” and hands the phone back to Wes.

He quickly takes in the damage:

W: Hi Mr. Drake-Wayne it’s Rebecca!!! I stole Wes’s phone :) I’m totally down with using company time for this and so is Wes 🙂 you’re way better than my old boss at Taco Hell btw. Also does WE buying our formal wear include buying shoes and accessories?

“This feels exploitative,” Wes says with an uncomfortable twist in his stomach.

“That’s why I took your phone instead of asking you to ask,” she says. “I get to be the bad guy, and you get to be friends with your friend without feeling like a gold-digger. Everyone wins.”

“No. I feel like trash.”

“Sorry.” And to her credit, she does look apologetic. “But I have student loans to pay off, rent, and other bills, and no heels that would go with anything WE will provide. I can’t afford this and I won’t feel bad for asking my rich boss to pay for it all as a work expense.”

On the surface, Wes understands that. He knows that he’s not poor-poor in the way that lots of people are. His mom has a job at Wayne Enterprises, for fuck’s sake, and he likely won’t have to worry about college as long as he chooses someplace sensible. But asking for so much from Tim, from his friend, leaves him feeling hollowed out and filled back up with swamp mud.

His phone lights up with a notification.

T: Hi, Rebecca. And of course! You’ll have to do your own hair and makeup, though. And I’m glad to be better than your old boss :)

Wordlessly, he shows the text to Rebecca, who nods, “Acceptable terms.”

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he says.

He walks away and hides in his mom’s office for the rest of the day.

xxXxx

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

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In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed.

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins.

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze.

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars.

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window.

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him.

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night.

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry.

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength.

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain.

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness.

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look.

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night.

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her.

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together.

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most.

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back.

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek.

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

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I worked so hard on this 😩 Please let me know your thoughts.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman reader insert #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth & reader #batman fic #batman universe #dc #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne reader insert #batfam #batboys #batman x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne angst #batman angst

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goldandbluesmiles · 4 years ago

Text

Unwavering.

Summary: Bruce has a near-death experience and becomes a guest to some familiar figures.

Ao3

Part of my btafam flufftober2020

Note: Written for a prompt by @bane-rights-writes Hope I did it justice! Also tagging @fictionalguystalker cause they asked. Hope you enjoy!

Unwavering.

That's how they described him.

It didn't matter if he was Bruce, Batman, or even Brucie. A father, a son, a friend, a hero, a businessman and or an airhead. Unwavering, or some synonym, always came up in a conversation when describing him.

Batman was unwavering in his support, in his justice, in his ideals.

Bruce was unwavering with his faith, kindness and dedication.

Brucie could hold a room at the edge while tipsy on champagne.

Unwavering. That's what it was.

The hero was unwaveringly steadfast. The father was unwaveringly devoted. The son was similarly loyal. The businessman was dedicated to a fault. The airhead was always reaching out, whether it was good for him or not. The friend was always there, even when you weren't aware.

Unwaveringly. That was just how he did things.

At least, that was how it had been.

And then Robin fell and Bruce lost his baby.

These days Batman was violent. The hero had started to disappear in smoke. The father had become distant and the son was barely there enough to say a word. The businessman was becoming a mess and the party boy everyone knew had retreated into a shell. The friend had disappeared and Bruce Wayne seemed to be walking empty.

The man knew he had to do something, he knew he was hurting them, all of them. He knew his son would have been ashamed.

He just...The darkness was just so much easier.

xxx

Batman should have seen the hit coming but he was tired and angry and not thinking straight.

Joker goons. All dressed like their psychotic master.

Batman hadn't been paying proper attention, he had slipped, maybe by accident and maybe on purpose but he did slip. When the thug behind him came with a lead pipe, there was no one there to watch his back.

If he had stayed awake, he would have felt that pipe, and many more, beating into him. He would have heard Agent A's voice begging him to get up and then promising to rescue him.

Instead, he was already far far away.

xxx

Bruce woke up slowly, almost like he was emerging from still tar. The first thing that came into view were treetops, a little bit of blue sky peeking through.

Getting his bearings right, Bruce gingerly sat up. Looking around he could see that he was in a place with a lot of trees and on further analyzation a very familiar place with a lot of trees.

The woods behind the lake house.

Bruce remembered running out here once and getting lost. The sun had been setting, the winter evening turning frigid and he had been so scared that he would never find his way back to his parents again.

His father had found him though, had picked him up and held him close and shushed him all the way back to the lake house. There, his mother had also hugged him and they had all sat down to drink hot chocolate by the fire.

It was one of Bruce's earliest memories.

In the present, he got up and started to walk in the lake house's direction by memory. He had taken the path so many times, some alone and some with his boys, that his feet knew where to go by their own volition.

As he neared the edge of the woods, he heard the sweet sound of a child's laugh. A very familiar laugh.

Hurrying so much that he was practically running, Bruce quickly made his way to the edge of the woods and froze.

From where he was standing, he had a clear view of the back porch.

A steady beam of sunlight seemed to be falling on the building. On the porch, there was a small round table for three with lemonade and biscuits. Just off the porch, there was a woman dancing with a young boy, both their laughter mixing together though the child was much louder.

"Mom," he whispered, scarcely believing his eyes and ears, "Jason,"

"Yes, son," murmured a voice from beside him, "It is them,"

He whirled around and nearly dropped from shock.

"Dad," he said softly

Thomas Wayne stood there in all his glory, full head of hair, bushy mustache, vibrant blue eyes and the suit he had been wearing on the night he had died. Not looking a day over, thirty-six.

"Hey, Kiddo,"

Bruce sobbed and practically collapsed into his father's arms. Thomas held him close, gently shushing him and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

"It's alright, Bruce. It's alright,"

"Dad," he whispered

"Dad!" called out another voice

Bruce jerked out of his father's arms just in time to catch a small bundle flying toward him. He hugged his son close to him, holding him so he was being crushed to his chest.

"Jaylad, Jay, my baby," he cried, "You're here Jason, you're here,"

"'Course I'm here, ya big boob. Stop ya whinin' and hug your ma,"

Bruce smiled and still holding on to his boy, he turned to Martha Wayne. His mom gave him a soft look before engulfing him in her arms.

"Oh my boy," she murmured, "How you have grown. Alfred did a wonderful job with you,"

"Yeah," he murmured into her shoulder, "Yeah. He did,"

"Come sit," she told him mas she pulled away

Bruce swung Jason onto his back making the boy giggle and shriek. They all headed toward the table where Bruce kneeled in front of his son.

"I'm so sorry, Jaylad," he whispered, "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough,"

Jason tilted his head in confusion.

"Dunno what you're sayin' Bruce," said Jason, "I'm gonna grab another glass,"

With that, the boy turned and ran inside.

"Come sit," said Thomas, gesturing toward the table

"So, tell us," said Martha as they sat down, "How have you been?"

"That's a long, complicated story, mom," said Bruce

"Tell us,"

He started from his teenage years, narrating his school experience, good and bad, an edited version of his travels, his time as Batman, adopting Dick, adopting Jason. Somewhere between all that, Jason had come back and climbed into Bruce's lap. It was a little awkward considering that Jason wasn't as small as he used to be when he was a young boy but Bruce made it work. He wasn't about to let his son go.

Bruce ended his story before he got to the part about Jason's death. If his boy wanted to ignore it, he would too.

"Colourful life you've had," said Thomas

"Yes, it has been," said Bruce smiling down at Jason, the sunlight starting to make him drowsy.

"I think you still have many years to live that colourful life," said Martha, voice even so gentle

He held Jason close, though the boy didn't seem to notice, staring off into the distance.

"I want to stay,"

"You don't belong here," said Thomas

Bruce could feel his desperation clawing at his insides.

"But I- I really wanna stay, Dad," he said

"Jason," his mother said gently, "Come here,"

Bruce tried to grab the boy but he sprang away from him and straight into Martha's arms. She stood up and took him off the porch, where they started to dance again to a tune only they could hear.

"You have to go back," said Thomas

"But why?" whispered Bruce, "It's so peaceful here,"

"But isn't there someone else waiting for you,"

Someone else.

Bruce

That sounded like-

Bruce, please.

Oh god.

I still need you, B.

Dick

I'm so sorry Bruce. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'll be better.

Nonononono. Dick.

"Go, son," murmured Thomas, "We'll be fine,"

Bruce stood up and bolted from the table. Jason waved to him as he ran by an ad he stopped long enough to give him son a hug.

"I love you," he whispered to him

"Run along, ya big boob,"

Bruce ran back into the forest where he had woken. As he went past the trees, they seemed to disappear, turning into wisps of nothing.

Bruce, please wake up.

The darkness seemed to be growing around him but Brue didn't care. He kept following the voice.

I love you, B.

Out of the darkness that had not surrounded him, a small beam of light appeared.

Dad.

"Dick,"

xxx

Dick had lost track of how long he had been sitting there, saying things as if they would bring Bruce out of his comma. Alfred was hopeful. Leslie had taken off the oxygen when Bruce had started breathing on his own, telling them that it was a good sign. However, it had been five days and the man still hadn't woken up.

Dick had barely left his side alternating between telling him funny stories and begging for him to wake up. After the first day, Alfred had put his foot down and made a schedule for him so he could take care of himself. According to said schedule, it was now time for him to get up and take a walk in the garden.

Not wanting to upset the man, especially when he had so much on his mind already, Dick started to get up, squeezing Bruce's hand as he did so.

Except for this time, Bruce squeezed back.

Dick stilled. had he imagined-no there it was again.

"Dad," he said, "Dad,"

Bruce stirred and his eyes fluttered open.

"Dick,"

Dick could have cried from relief.

"Yes, yes it's me, B," he said

"Dick," Bruce repeated, eyes coming to focus on him

"Yeah," whispered Dick, squeezing his hand, "Let me just call Alfred,"

Alfred was called and came down as fast as he could. He checked the man over and deemed him fit and fine.

"Don't you scare me like that again, my boy," said Alfred

Bruce, who now seemed much more present, smiled, "I'm sorry, Alfie,"

"Hmm," murmured Alfred, "Well, I have some calls to make and I am sure you two would like some time alone,"

Dick sat down and took Bruce's hand again.

"You really scared me, B,"

Bruce looked at him for a few moments and then smiled sadly.

"I haven't been a really good paren have I?"

Dick stilled, "No, Bruce I didn't mean- I mean I'm an adult now and-"

"Dick," he murmured squeezing his hand gently, "I know I haven't been great. I'm gonna change that,"

"You were grieving," said Dick

"So were you," returned Bruce, "I should have listened to you. I'm going to change some things now. I'm gonna talk to Dinah and get help and I'm gonna get better and I will try harder to be a better dad. I promise I will try,"

"Wow," said Dick, tears springing up in his eyes, "Must have been some hit to the head,"

Bruce smiled and pulled him in for a hug.

"You have no idea," he sid into Dick's shoulder

Dick didn't know what that meant and at the moment he didn't care, he was just glad to be hugging his dad again, feeling light the first time in months.

xxx

Batman, Bruce, Brucie Wayne.

The father, the son, the hero, the friend, the businessman and the airhead party boy.

Take him in any form and the man was unwavering in his own way.

He hadn't been for a while though. Not since his little bird fell and he lost a son.

But maybe, just maybe, with a little motivation and a little more help, he could be again.

Just maybe.

#flufftober2020 #bruce wayne #Jason Todd #batman #batdad #dick grayson #unwavering

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violetsmoak · 5 years ago

Note

Congrats on passing 200 followers! As for prompts, I’ve always been curious on what your take on a “Jason and Tim meet as kids (and eventually fall in love)” story would be like. Your writing has always brought me so much joy, so thank you for all that you do and share with us!

Summary: In which Jason’s instincts and Tim’s panic response are a little bit off.

Pairing: JayTim

Rating: PG

Author’s Note: Well, I don’t have my own headcanon for this because so many writers before me have done it so well, but I hopefully this fulfils your expectations!

This takes place at the end of Jason’s run as Robin. Jason is 15 and Tim is 12.

________________________________________________________________

Jason is being watched.

He knows this with the certainty of a kid who grew up on the street, and one who has worn the mantle of Robin for three years now. It’s pretty much impossible for him not to notice the sensation of eyes scrutinizing, and he’s been feeling variations of that for two weeks now.

And today I’m finally going to do something about it…

Gotham Public Library has provided him a manner of safe haven these past few months, when it’s too tense to go back to the manor and all of Bruce’s bullshit, and when he’d rather not spend another minute at school. He’s been letting himself get lost in his homework assignments and the occasional novel after school, and it’s close to peaceful.

Until the staring began.

To be fair, the kid doing it is trying not to be too obvious about it; he watches from out of the corner of his eyes and doesn’t let his attention linger for longer than a few seconds lest it become noticeable.

But there’s just something about that attention that sticks with Jason; it’s getting to the point where he imagines he feels it when he goes out on patrol, too.

More confounding is the kid’s knack for disappearing before Jason can get up the momentum to confront him. One-minute Jason will be surveying him, then he’ll look down to his book and back, and the kid will be gone.

It’s like he takes lessons from Batman when it comes to exits.

Jason doesn’t know anything about him, beyond the immediate facts: pale, black hair and very, very blue eyes. He’s young, the roundness of his face suggesting he’s younger than Jason, but he’s about two inches taller. Athletic, but in an understated way, his weight class far beneath Jason’s own in muscle alone.

The kid comes to the library alone, no friends of parents in sight. He wears clothes that are meant to look casual, but the brands are the same designer ones that Alfred purchases for Jason, meaning he’s got money. Sometimes he wears glasses—on those days Jason notices the staring more, as if the boy thinks having his eyes framed behind glass makes his interest less pervasive.

He’s also familiar in a way that Jason can’t place. If he didn’t know that no crook in Gotham would be so desperate as to employ a shrimp like this kid as anything other than maybe a drug runner, he’d figure he was under someone’s surveillance.

(His clothes are too nice, and those strange eyes not haunted enough to be a child of the streets like Jason.)

He always has a bunch of books he’s flipping through, or a tablet he’s working on; homework, from the look of the textbooks, but Jason’s caught sight of his reading selection on the Returns cart before leaving: digital photography, Zombie Survival Guide, histories of World War II codebreakers and varied biographies with no underlying theme.

It’s hard not to tap into all that Robin training to find out who his little stalker is; but he’s not paranoid, like Bruce, and there are more direct ways of doing it.

“So, the whole watchin’ me thing,” he says one day apropos of nothing and sits in a chair opposite the kid; this earns him a look that epitomizes ‘deer in the headlights’. “You got some kind of beef with me, or what?”

“What?” the boy squeaks.

“Every day the past two weeks, you sit at this table and pretend like you’re not starin’ at me—don’t say you don’t,” he adds when the kid opens his mouth to protest. “I know when I’m bein’ watched. Hazards of growin’ up in Crime Alley. So what do you want?”

He tries to come off as easy-going and joking, but with just the right edge of “if you’re fucking with me, I’ll end you” that Jason Wayne, adopted son of Brucie Wayne and former street kid would be expected to have. No point in breaking out the Robin voice or whup-ass.

“I—I was just—I wasn’t—you’re just—” the kid stammers, clearly having trouble formulating a response. Jason almost feels bad, but his suspicion about why he’s being watched by another kid with such intensity outweighs that.

He opens his mouth to remind the kid to breathe, when suddenly,

“Cute!” the boy blurts out, too loud for the library and earning a few irritated shh! noises from the study nooks in the corner. Jason barely hears those, his own brain trying to parse what the kid just said. “I mean, you. Are. Cute—I think you’re cute.”

And then his eyes bulge, and his cheeks darken, and he looks abruptly furious with himself.

Jason’s own cheeks begin to flame, his jaw-dropping a little in surprise.

Whatever I was expecting, that was not it.

He’s never been hit on by a guy before.

Well, not a guy in his own age bracket. He’s had plenty of come-ons from older, and often drunker, creeps.

“I’m sorry,” the poor kid gasps, and he’s snatching at his things, practically vibrating like he wants to rip out of his own skin in an effort to vanish. “I don’t know…shouldn’t have said that. Sorry, I’m just…”

The kid looks so ashamed that Jason instantly feels bad.

He’s not entirely sure how he feels about having a boy like him; the only attention he’s ever gotten like that has been from the opposite sex, and even that’s sparse. The only kids he comes in contact in his line of work is on his occasional trips with the Titans, and even they’re all older than him. Other than his first and only girlfriend, Rena—who had to leave Gotham when her dad got transferred to Star City—the girls at Jason’s school only show an interest in him when they think he might buy them things.

But, he’s also Robin.

And Robin’s supposed to inspire confidence in people. If there’s something about him—even just as regular civilian Jason Todd—seems approachable to this kid, then he’s got to be careful how he handles it.

Besides, he can’t help feeling a little bit flattered.

It takes him a moment to think of something that might ease some of the tension from the situation.

“Pizza,” he offers.

That makes the other boy freeze and stare at him. “What?”

That earns more shushing, and so Jason makes sure to keep his voice pitched low the next time he speaks.

“There’s a pizza place down the block from the library,” he says. “You can design your own with whatever toppings. I think they do vegan stuff, too. If that’s a thing you… Do you want to maybe…go there? And talk?”

He cringes inwardly.

Did that sound as lame to him as it did to me?

He always thought asking out a girl was hard to do, but he’s never given any thought to how it might feel with a guy.

Said guy’s jaw does drop at this, as if this too, is the last thing he expected.

“You don’t have to,” he rushes to say. “I mean…what I said before. It just—you surprised me, is all. And I—I should go.”

Almost before Jason can register, he’s completely packed up and across the library like he’s got Kid Flash on his trail.

Worried the kid might accidentally run into traffic in his haste, Jason hurries after him.

He finds him outside the stairs of the library, the contents of his rashly collected belongings spilled over the steps and muttering angrily at himself.

Without a second thought, Jason stoops down beside him and picks up the nearest notebook, holding it out to him. “Sorry if I freaked you out.”

“Don’t be—I’m clearly the one who fails at human interaction.”

“I’m Jason,” he offers.

“I know,” is the instant reply.

Jason’s soothing mood vanishes within the next second, once more replaced with cool suspicion as he straightens up. “Yeah? And how do you know that?”

The boy’s face whips up toward him and he makes an almost strangled sound, like he’s trying to choke himself from the inside.

“I don’t mean that like it sounded,” he rushes to say. “I’ve seen you before, is all. At Wayne events. My parents always get invited, and sometimes they make me come along, and…” He trails off, forces himself to breathe, and then offers Jason a wan smile and his hand. Surprisingly, for all his discomfort before, it doesn’t shake. “Hi. I’m Tim Drake.”

“Right,” Jason says slowly, accepting the hand warily.

Kid’s got a strong grip for someone so spindly.

That’s when it clicks for Jason, why the kid looks so familiar.

He has seen him before, hanging out with the other rich kids that always seem to flock together and circle the wagons at these things. Unlike them, he’s always seemed to be as uncomfortable at the parties as Jason was, and spent more time trailing behind his parents and shaking hands with people than with the kids his own age.

Maybe if I wasn’t spending so much time trying to figure out how to get out of those things early, we might have actually talked.

The explanation answers one question Jason had, but not the other.

“So, you’ve seen me at parties, and that made you decide to…what? Stalk me at the library?”

“No! No, I wasn’t—I happened to be in the library one day when you came in, and after that I just…kept…coming back,” Tim trails off, as if realizing he’s not making his case any better. He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in a way Jason’s only ever seen Bruce do when he or Dick say or do something he can’t rationalize. “Look, it might come as a shock to you, but I’m not great with people. And you’re…” He gestures at Jason like that explains everything, “you.”

Clearly articulation isn’t a strong point, although Jason’s not sure if that’s an inborn characteristic or if Tim really is that flustered by him.

He kind of, really wants to find out.

Jason rubs at the back of his neck, trying to figure out what exactly he’s supposed to say to that, and then decides for both their sakes, he’ll let it slide. Instead, he says, “So, does that mean you’re in?”

Tim is taken off-guard. “Huh?”

“Pizza,” Jason repeats slowly. He jerks his thumb in the direction of the pizza parlor. “That way.”

That earns a stare, and then Tim’s blushing again. “I was serious before, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t tell me you’re not hungry. You look like you haven’t eaten since ever.”

“I have a fast metabolism.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I do!”

“Whatever. Consider it my civic duty as the son of a billionaire philanthropist,” Jason replies with a roll of the eyes. “The getting you fed part. You’re paying for it yourself, since now I know you have money.”

“But—I—what?”

“That’s how it works, isn’t it?” Jason says. “Go for a first date, then decide if you want to actually date or just be friends? I’m not sure, is it the same thing with guys as girls? Either way, I think it works out for both of us.”

When Tim continues to look at him, uncomprehending, Jason wonders if somehow he’s completely misread the situation.

“Unless I really did mess you up before and you just said that thing about me for shits and giggles.” Which is kind of a letdown, he realizes, and discovers he really doesn’t want Tim to have some kind of ulterior motive. There’s too much of that kind of thing in his life already. “Though…that still leaves the question about what you thought was so fascinating about this ugly mug.”

He’s barely finished the sentence, but Tim is blurting, “That was it.”

Jason raises an eyebrow.

“I mean,” Tim says, clearing his throat. “You’re not ugly. And yes to pizza. There is no world where the answer to pizza is ever ‘no’.”

“Barring parallel worlds,” Jason offers.

“Barring those,” Tim agrees and swings his backpack over his shoulder. He shifts, a little awkward. “So, where is this place?”

“Just down this way. We should hurry if you don’t want to get stuck in the supper rush,” Jason says, unable to stop the grin breaking out on his face. They start down the street together, but Jason pauses. “Before we go, just one more question.”

Tim tenses. “…Yes?”

“You’re not one of those weirdos that puts pineapple on pizza, are you? Because, I mean, the stalking thing I could probably forgive, but that…”

“Please, do I look like a heathen? The only thing that touches my pizza is Canadian bacon, onions and artichoke hearts.”

The other boy adopts a scandalized expression; it’s the first one that has nothing to do with outright panic, and for that, Jason is glad.

He makes a face at the odd combination, and then shrugs. “Weird. Then again, I’ll try anything once, so why not?”

________________________________________________________________

Yes, Tim is taller than Jason here. Because poor Jay is still malnourished and Timmy had a relatively healthy upbringing. I’d say Jay is 4′6″ here (which is canon for before he died) and Tim’s about 4′8″. Because there’s not enough tiny Jason fics in the world. :P

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of any emojis you want and let me know how you feel!

#jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #meet cute #childhood friends #awkward boys #fic prompts #writing requests #for anonymous #violet writes #violetsmoak #jason's been watched a lot longer than two weeks #he just doesn't realize it #dcu #batman #humor #flirting

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huilian · 5 years ago

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chapter one of my court of owls rewrite AU!

***

Dick stands near the podium, watching Bruce give his speech. He already knows that the speech is about looking forward to the future to create a better Gotham, instead of focusing on the city’s grim present and past. However, Dick finds himself thinking about the city as it was and still is, despite the point of Bruce’s entire speech is for people to not do so.

Dick can’t help it. Bruce starts the speech with stories of his connection to Gotham, and Dick finds himself remembering his own association with the city, and all that entails.

He wishes he could say he hasn’t thought of the Court for years, but that would be a lie.

Without Dick realizing it, Bruce has finished his speech. The socialites and elites of Gotham lap it up, of course. Dick knows that a lot of them don’t really believe in what Bruce is saying: invest in Gotham’s future and we can make Gotham a better place--and Dick has his suspicions about which of them actually wants to make a better Gotham, considering what he knows about them--, but they take it anyway. That’s Gotham’s elites for you.

Dick waits until Bruce has done his cursory thank-yous before putting himself next to Bruce’s elbow. He knows how much these rich people hate it when he interrupts their conversations with their beloved Brucie, but that makes him do it more often.

Spite. What a powerful motivator.

“Are you sure about this?” Dick starts signing, not really caring who sees. It’s not like any of the people surrounding Bruce knows ASL anyway. They never care enough to learn.

“Yes,” Bruce signs back.

“Don’t you have enough to do with Batman Inc.?” Dick can’t say how much he loves that he can actually talk about Batman in public. He just has to slide everything under the blanket of Batman Inc.. After all, it’s public knowledge that Bruce Wayne is funding Batman Inc. No more searching for increasingly ridiculous excuses.

Plus, it is not like anyone around them knows what they’re saying. Like Dick said before, they don’t care enough to learn. But it’s always good to be safe.

“Actually, I’m thinking of spending more time in Gotham.” The people surrounding Bruce start to disperse, grumbling and whispering to themselves and each other, after it becomes clear that Bruce is not going to translate his conversation with Dick to the people surrounding him. Honestly, by now, they should know already. It’s not like this hasn’t occurred many, many times before. “I-”

Dick stops Bruce with a hand. With the crowd surrounding them, or more precisely, surrounding Bruce, clearing, Dick can see Commissioner Gordon, standing near a window as he talks to his phone. While the sight is not something out of the ordinary, especially in an event like this,the words that Dick can read from his lips, however, are unusual.

… stab wounds… I’ll be there…

Well, maybe even that is not something new. It’s Gotham, after all. Despite Bruce’s, and lately Dick’s, efforts, victims of stabbings are still common. What’s extraordinary is the fact that the GCPD is calling the commissioner about a stabbing, when they know perfectly well he’s attending a function.

Not a regular crime then.

Bruce, noticing that Dick’s focus is now on the Commissioner, moves his attention to him.

They both watched Jim Gordon for a while, and when the Commissioner hangs up, Bruce signs, “Are you going out?”

Dick nods. He’s already thinking of excuses, and whether or not he should take Damian. A stabbing doesn’t sound like a case Dick would keep away from him, but if they’re calling the Commissioner about it…

“Want me to come with?”

No, Dick’s not going to bring Damian. If they’re calling the Commissioner because of some mystery surrounding the stabbing, then he’ll involve Damian later. The kid needs more detectiving practice. But if it’s something else, something more horrible than just a mystery, then he’ll work the case alone. Damian doesn’t need more violence in his life.

At least not more than what he usually sees on a daily basis.

“No,” Dick signs. “I’ll go alone. It’s your party, you should be here. Keep an eye on Damian.” Dick watches as Bruce’s eyes go distant--the way they did when he doesn’t understand something--at the sign name Dick has given for Damian, index finger up, palm facing outwards, which is then continued by the palm turning, while touching the chest with the middle finger. The letter D, moving onto a modified sign for heart. Dick has been meaning to have that conversation with Bruce for a long time, now, about what Damian means to him and how they will navigate that now that Bruce is back, but they never seem to have the time. Maybe Bruce being in Gotham more will be good for them. For all of them “Make sure he’s not putting anything on fire,” Dick finishes, teasing a bit.

Bruce eyes him warily. Dick knows he’s not sure whether Dick is joking about the fire bit or not Dick just smiles as he tries to figure it out.

Maybe Damian will put something on fire. And with both Tim and Cass in attendance, chaos will still reign even if Damian doesn’t light anything up. Tim and Damian are bad enough, but Dick has learned recently that putting all three of them in close proximity to each other for a prolonged period of time will only result in chaos.

It’ll be fun to watch Bruce handle that for a change.

Bruce sighs. “I’ll be on standby as back-up, then.”

“You just want to ditch the party.”

Bruce flicks Dick’s nose. For a moment, Dick is transported to years ago, having a conversation very similar to this one. Only this time, Dick is the one who’s going out and Bruce is the back-up. It startles him a bit, knowing how far he’s come since those unsure Robin days, shoulders heavy with the need to redeem his mother’s name for him, and always, always scared of the possibility of hitting too hard, of going too far.

Him and Damian are so much more alike than the kid can possibly think.

Dick’s shoulders are still heavy now, but it’s a different name he’s bearing, with a different parent behind it.

No. The mission first. Dick can do his maudlin reflections later. He shakes his head a bit, just to clear it, then signs, “I’m going to call Tim or Cass if I need back-up. This is your party, and you’ll stay until the very end of this stupid thing.”

Bruce flicks his nose again. Or, well, he tries to. Dick ducks down, leaving Bruce’s fingers to flick air.

“Brat,” Bruce says, huffing with exasperation. Then, his expression turns serious, and he signs, “Be careful.”

Dick smiles. “Always.”

***

The cape no longer drags him with its weight. It’s still heavy, it’s still weird and constricting, but it no longer pulls him down. Dick wonders what that says about him.

Since he left Damian back at the party, with plenty of protests from the boy, Batman is flying solo tonight. Dick takes the opportunity to play around a bit, since no Robin means he doesn’t have to be a good example.

It’s not strictly professional, but it keeps the mythos going. Besides, Bruce used to do it all the time. Still does.

Dick lands at the crime scene silently, searching for the officer in charge to spook.

The officer in question is Sergeant Harvey Bullock. Dick sighs internally. No chance of spooking, then. Bullock has been in the game for far too long to be startled by the Bat anymore, whether it is him or Bruce.

“Sergeant Bullock,” Batman says. Dick hates doing it, hates forcing the words out of his mouth, hates the memories that come with it, but unlike Nightwing, Batman cannot be mute.

It’s bad enough that Commissioner Gordon and a lot of the Rogues know he’s not the original one. He doesn’t need to advertise it.

“Batman.” Bullock nods at him. “Come on. Let’s go look at some art.”

Sergeant Bullock leads him inside, to where a man is pinned to the wall by knives.

“The landlord found him on a routine rent run. He went by the name Sam Strigs…,” Bullock says as Dick listens with half an ear. There’s something familiar about the knives.

Dick moves closer.

An owl. On the handle of the knives.

Dick’s breathing stops for a second. He can feel his hands curling around phantom knives, much like these ones. His neck tingles with the sense of being watched.

No. Dick takes a breath. Bruce said the Court is gone. Bruce said he has run the Court to the ground and burned them himself.

Dick glances at Bullock. He’s still talking, oblivious to the fact that Dick’s mind had gone somewhere else. Good. It won’t do to have people know that the Batman is scared of the Court.

There will be riots. No one will take Batman seriously ever again. Dick can’t do that to Bruce.

But then… an owl. The Court is powerful. It’s possible that Bruce hasn’t burnt them all, that they have been hiding, biding their time, waiting for their chance to strike. But, that brings its own sets of questions. The most prevalent one is, why now?

“... has anything to do with the old wive’s tale-”

“I know what you mean,” Batman says. Dick knows. He knows all about the Court of Owls. There’s no need for Bullock to start saying their name out loud. Speak not a whispered word of them. Better not to tempt fate.

He also says that because he can excuse that with Batman’s general sullenness and know-it-all behaviour. The Batman is not scared of the Court of Owls. He just can’t be bothered to listen to their name.

Dick pulls his eyes away from the knives, surveying the rest of the room. The smell of paint thinner hits his nose, blocking even the stench of the body.

Why is he smelling paint thinner?

Oh. Maybe. Dick pulls out a lighter from his belt, then starts walking around the room, trying to find where the smell is strongest.

The smell is strongest on the wall right opposite of Sam Strig’s body. Dick observes the wall. He doesn’t see anything that will give him clues, but paint thinner does leave no trace on this kind of wall. Dick flicks the lighter on and approaches the wall. He hopes he’s not wrong, because if he is, then he’ll be burning the crime scene down.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Bullock shouts, but it’s too late. The fire has caught.

It illuminates the room. Well, the good news is, Dick is not burning anything down.

The bad news is, the fire writes, RICHARD GRAYSON WILL DIE TOMORROW.

Well. Dick has had his share of death threats over the years, but none so… dramatic as this.

“Tomorrow?” Bullock says. “Our time of death is a week ago, so the ‘tomorrow’ Strigs thought of already came and went. This Grayson boy should be in the clear.”

“Unless he knew when he’d be found,” Batman says.

Bullock narrows his eyes, then grimaces. “The landlord says he always comes on the second Friday of the month. Maybe our victim knows he’s going to die and be found today, and left a warning for this Grayson boy.” Bullock snorts. “Then good luck to that killer. Grayson’s Wayne’s adopted son, and Wayne’s security has security. I’m guessing you know the boy? What with Wayne being your-”

Batman grunts. Why would a dying man leave a warning message for his killer’s next victim? Unless…, unless the one writing the message is not Sam Strigs.

If it’s a Talon writing that message, if it’s the Court who’s sending that message…

“I’ll be seeing you, Bullock,” and with that, Dick is gone before Bullock can answer. He has a murderer to catch.

***

“Are you insane?” Bruce says. Other people will say that Bruce is completely unaffected. Dick knows better. He’s speaking to Dick. “The Court is back in Gotham, they’re threatening you, and you’re telling me to leave?”

Dick sighs. He would also like to be stressed about this, but when he comes back to the Bunker and tells Bruce about the situation, he sees that Bruce is actually panicking over this. He decides then that he’s going to be calm and collected. No sense in having two Batmans that are panicking, after all.

“We don’t know if it’s the Court or not. It could be a copycat.”

“I’m not leaving, Dick. You should have called me the moment you have any indication that it’s the Court instead of letting me play billionaire in a party all night.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Even if this is the Court, Bruce has been protecting Dick against them for so long now. It’s Dick’s problem, and it’s past time he handled it.

“I can handle it,” Dick signs, perfectly calm and collected. He’s not, not really, but Bruce wouldn’t even consider going if Dick isn’t the picture of serenity.

He loves Bruce for that, but Bruce shouldn’t be worrying about Dick anymore. Not when he has so much more to worry about.

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m… I’m not saying you can’t handle it, Dick. I…”

Dick laughs a little bit. Even with the threat of the Court swirling at the back of his mind, it’s always fun to see Bruce getting flustered with emotions, instead of locking them down and playing the unfeeling Batman.

Dick taps Bruce’s fingers, forcing the man to pay attention to him, then signs, “You can’t say it, can you? I’m worried.”

“Dick,” Bruce says. “It’s the Court.”

Dick changes his demeanour instantly. “I know,” he signs. “It’s time I faced them.”

A look passes between them. A thousand unsaid things and a thousand unspoken emotions.

There’s no evidence it’s the Court, Dick’s look says.

They’re smart enough to conceal it, Bruce counters.

Even if it is, I can handle it.

It’s my job to protect you, the set of Bruce’s mouth says.

I can protect myself just fine.

Bruce takes a breath. Then, in the rise of his eyebrows, he asks, Are you sure about this?

And Dick, answering in kind, raises his own eyebrows. Yes, I’m sure.

“Alright,” Bruce breathes out, “but call for back-up the moment you need it, Dick. I’m serious.”

“And by back-up you mean you, right?” because Bruce is nothing if not paranoid and controlling. He won’t even be in Gotham by early tomorrow morning. The Batman of Tokyo needs his help, and so Bruce is flying out first thing tomorrow. He can’t seriously think that he is going to be Dick’s first point of contact.

Nowadays, Gotham is not lacking in protectors, and so Dick is not lacking in back-ups. Babs is here, Stephanie is here, Tim is here. Cass is back, and even Jason can be persuaded to give them back-ups once in a blue moon. Dick is not lacking in back-ups.

“None of them have faced the Court before.”

“I have.”

“Dick,” Bruce growls.

Dick sighs. “I promise to call for back-up, but I’m not promising to call you. Tokyo needs you much more than we do. We can handle this.”

Another thousand unsaid things. Another thousand unspoken emotions.

“Fine,” Bruce sighs..

Dick smiles at him. He turns to go to the lockers to change out of his suit, but before he steps out of the room, Bruce adds, “You know that the mission is not more important than you, right?”

He is gone before Dick can answer.

***

“How much longer do I have to endure this, Grayson?”

“You love it,” Dick teases.

Damian scoffs. “I repeat, how much longer do I have to endure this, Grayson?”

Dick laughs. Damian glares at him, but he doesn’t stop stirring the sauce, despite all his complaints in the last twenty three minutes. Dick tries to stop laughing, but one look at Damian’s glare gets him starting again.

It warms Dick’s heart, to see his little brother stirring the sauce next to him. The Damian from months ago would have stabbed him with a kitchen knife before deigning to accompany Dick in cooking. The sight even manages to push the threat on his life to the very back of his mind.

Dick takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. Damian won’t appreciate it if he keeps laughing at him. Then, Dick walks over and ruffles Damian’s hair before taking over the spatula. Only Damian can make stirring pasta sauce sounds like torture.

“Give me the tomatoes,” Dick signs.

“Yes, I know, Grayson,” Damian grumbles, handing Dick a plate of chopped tomatoes. “And stop signing while you’re stirring. We don’t want a repeat of last Thursday.”

Dick stops stirring, then gives Damian his best conspiring look. “Nothing happened last Thursday.”

Damian snorts. “Keep telling yourself that. I will break the moment Pennyworth asks me about it. I do not wish to incur his wrath. Again.”

“The mighty Damian falls under Alfred’s wrath, huh?”

“It would be prudent to do so,” Damian says. “And stop signing.”

Dick laughs again. It’s fun, actually, being in the Penthouse’s kitchen, cooking dinner with his little brother, despite the complaints from Damian. It also serves to give Alfred a break every once in a while. God knows the man needs it.

The sunlight glints on the countertop, unhindered by anything. It’s almost sunset already. Dick knows that the Court can strike just as well, if not better, at night, but the sight of the sun setting calms Dick’s beating heart somewhat. At night they are Batman and Robin, not Dick and Damian. At night Dick can protect his brother more.

It’s ironic, that Dick likes Damian to be on the streets better than at home, but on the streets, he can lead any attempts on Dick’s life away from Damian. He can’t do that here.

Dick is perfectly fine with the Court threatening him, but he cannot bear it if his family is in danger. Never mind that all of their lives are at risk every time they put on a mask.

But they can handle those dangers. They have for years now. The Court though. The Court is something else. The Court is Dick’s problem.

A shadow appears over the countertop. And from its angle, whatever it is is perching on the windows. Too big to be a bird, and anything else won’t perch on the window.

No. No. Not now, not when he’s so close to getting through the day unscathed.

Not when Damian is so close to getting through the day unharmed.

Down, Dick signs with the field signals, ones that only his family and his Titans know. Ones that Damian is trained to recognize and obey instantly.

He does, thank god. Damian puts down the basil he’s been chopping and takes cover behind the kitchen counter.

Not a moment too late, because once Damian’s head went out of sight, the window breaks. The windows at Wayne Tower are supposed to be unbreakable, but…

It’s a Talon. It’s a Talon standing inside Dick’s kitchen, in very close proximity to Damian.

So it is the Court.

And they have sent a Talon for Dick’s head.

Dick moves into his stance. From the uniform, Dick knows that the Talon in front of him is his great-grandfather, William Cobb. That’s both good news and bad news, because Dick knows how Cobb fights, but Cobb also knows how Dick fights. After all, he’s the one who trained Dick all those years ago.

He’s also a damn good fighter.

But Dick has spent the years since their last encounter training with other people and he’s guessing that Cobb hasn’t. He throws the pan filled with hot pasta towards Cobb, trying to buy some time.

As Dick had expected, the pasta didn't hurt Cobb,but it did give him time to take a knife from the knife block on the counter. Distantly, Dick remembers Damian holding a knife before he took cover, and wonders where that knife is, but Dick pushes that thought out for later.

Dick has batarangs on his person, as always, but he’s not sure whether the Court already knows that tidbit of information, so he doesn’t dare pull them out.

Cobb throws his own knife. Dick ducks and rolls towards Cobb. Another knife, this one aimed downwards. Dick leaps up.

Cobb may be good, but Dick is right. Cobb’s skills, although impressive, hasn’t improved in the years since their last meeting.

Dick’s has increased exponentially.

But he’s in civvies, with only the one knife as a weapon. Cobb is in his full Talon regalia, with dozens of knives, two swords, throwing darts, and possibly several grenades. He also has regenerative abilities. Dick does not.

Dick aims a kick towards Cobb’s eyes. Cobb evades it, but that’s okay. It is supposed to be a feint anyway. Dick knows what move Cobb will use to evade the kick and he makes use of that by slashing at Cobb’s back.

It hits, but Dick knows the cut will heal soon enough. Dick has to be fast. He trips Cobb’s legs and strikes at his neck.

Dick used enough force to shatter a normal person’s trachea, but Cobb is a Talon, and so even that is not hard enough. Cobb takes the hit, but still manages to land one of his knives into Dick’s arm.

Dick does not have regenerative abilities.

Dick rolls away, protecting his injured arm. Cobb does not have the same qualms. He starts to say, “Richard Grayson. The Court of Owls has-”

His words are cut off by a knife to the spine. Damian. What is he doing, staying here? He’s supposed to be out and safe.

The knife did give Dick the opportunity to kick Cobb out of the window. He doesn’t even twitch, because Damian apparently had lodged his knife deep into Cobb’s spine. Not even a Talon can heal with a knife still embedded there.

That done, Dick turns towards Damian, hands already moving.

Damian doesn’t even blink. He just says, “You’re hurt,” like that’s all there is to be said.

Dick begs to differ. “What are you doing? You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“So you would have me leave you?”

“Yes!”Dick signs that with more force than the sign actually needs. “When I tell you to leave, you leave.”

“You didn’t tell me to leave,” Damian protests. “You told me to go down. And I did.”

Dick starts to sign again, before he looks at Damian. The kid meant well, and Dick can see that Damian is shaken up by the attack. He’s just trying to help. And Dick can’t really fault that logic. But still…

“You know what I meant. Don’t do that again.”

“Tt,” Damian clicks his tongue. He stops for a moment, and Dick lets him. Sometimes Damian needed more time to gather his thoughts, and Dick is more than happy to oblige him. “Are you not going to reprimand me about the knife?”

Oh. Damian didn’t know.

“You didn’t know about the healing abilities?”

“No. I suspected, based on the way he paid no mind on your attack on his trachea. Anyways, it wouldn’t have killed even a normal human being. It would only paralyze them.”

Dick sighs. He really shouldn’t encourage the violence, but the kid did save him. And Dick owes him an explanation.

“Don’t do that to a normal human being. Otherwise, good job.” Dick ruffles Damian’s hair again, with his uninjured arm. Then, he sobers up, and signs, “That’s a Talon.” Dick doesn’t elaborate. The kid knows about the Court already.

Damian’s face turned dangerous. Dick will have to watch out for that. Damian opens his mouth.

“No,” Dick signs, stopping Damian before he even starts. “We’re not going to go after them now. Go get Alfred, then get packing.”

“Packing?” Damian asks, perplexed.

“This place is compromised already. We’re moving to the Manor.”

***

#dc #dick grayson #bruce wayne #lian writes #noctuis #fic #i'll be tagging characters on tumblr as they show up!

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my-one-love-is-music · 5 years ago

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Write 365 Day 21: Where do Broken Hearts Go?

AO3 link

Jason was a little disappointed that the security for the BatCave hadn’t changed much since he was last here. He knew Bruce didn’t ever really get someone who came and attacked his headquarters since no one suspected it was under Wayne Manor, but really, he could’ve at least taken a few more precautions that didn’t make it so easy to get in.

Jason reveled in the explosions that made the walls of the Cave shudder. The bats screamed over their heads, panicking amidst the chaos.

Jason laughed as Bruce tried to tackle him. He sidestepped easily and shot him in the leg.

“You’ve gotten complacent, Brucie,” he said, sneering down at him as he fought to get back to his feet. “I’m a little disappointed. I thought this was going to be more of a challenge.”

“How did you know where the Cave was?” he growled, tossing three batarangs at him.

Jason sighed and dodged. “It’s really taken you this long to put the pieces together? I don’t think I even want to tell you. I’ll just leave you guessing and if you do ever manage to figure it out, it’ll be by the time your precious little Gotham has been stolen out from under you.”

“Get away from him!”

Jason rolled his eyes and evaded Dick’s assault as he launched himself from between the flames and the shadows they cast. He grabbed Dick’s leg as he tried to kick him in the stomach.

“I think I”m the most surprised by you, boy wonder,” Jason said. “After you gave up being Robin you seemed pretty broken up about it when it was given to the next guy. I’m surprised you’ve stuck with him after all these years.”

“Don’t pretend like you know anything about me,” Dick snarled.

Jason sighed and threw him over his shoulder, knocking Damian to the ground without even looking.

“This is getting pretty boring without that fourth guy around. Where is he? I’m surprised he wasn’t hanging around with all of you.”

“What are you planning to do to Red Robin?” Bruce growled.

Jason shrugged. “Don’t know, but it would probably be more exciting than this. You know, I was fully prepared to kill you tonight, but this isn’t turning out to be as exciting as I thought it was going to be. Next time try to entertain me a little bit more.”

“Wait!”

Jason ignored Bruce’s shouts after him and made his exit. He grabbed his bike and sped away towards the city. As he reached the outer limits he grinned when he caught sight of a familiar red bike headed towards him.

Neither of them slowed as they passed each other, Red Robin no doubt in a hurry to get to the Cave.

Maybe the night would prove to get a little more interesting after all. He revved his bike and turned towards the warehouse district, hoping he’d get to have a little more fun after the disappointing result of his attack on the Cave.

Tim stared at the wreckage of the Cave. Bruce was already patched up and the fires had been tamed. Aside from the gunshot wound, none of the others had anything worse than a couple of scrapes.

“How did he know where the Cave was?” Dick asked after Tim was given a rundown of the situation.

No one outside of the circle should have that kind of knowledge.

Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know, but after this I can’t just leave him be any longer. We’re going to need to do something. He’s becoming too much of a threat and needs to be locked up in Arkham.”

Tim balled his hands into fists. He turned on his heel without a word and headed to his bike.

“Tim? Where are you going?” Dick called.

“I’ll be back later, I just remembered I have something I have to do. Get Babs on the phone, she can probably help with setting up some new security measures in case he decides to come back.”

He ignored anyone else calling out to him and left the Cave behind, the wind roaring in his ears as he hit the road again. He turned towards the docks district. He didn’t really know what he was going to do once he confronted Jason, but he knew he needed to talk to him. He needed to figure out what was going through his head.

And he wanted to help him come back to the person he used to be in any way that he could.

Tim slowed as he reached the warehouses. His eyes flicked from the sidewalks and alleys to the rooftops above, searching for any sign of movement.

He hit the brakes when a red blur jumped from a rooftop and landed in front of him.

Tim killed the engine of his bike as Jason straightened in front of him.

“I was wondering if I was going to see you at all tonight,” Jason said, rolling his shoulders. “I was starting to think you didn’t give a shit about the rest of the Bats since you weren’t at the Cave.”

Tim climbed off his biked and stalked over to Jason who didn’t move, head tilting to the side as he approached.

He grabbed the lapels of Jason’s jacket and glared at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Jason chuckled. “That’s cute. Do you really think you can take me?”

“If I have to,” Tim bit out. “Now answer my question.”

“I’m just making sure I get what I want.”

Tim shook his head and shoved him away, suspecting Jason stepped back more out of surprise than anything else.

“I don’t think this is what you really want. You’re going through all this trouble to get rid of the Bats? If that was true than why didn’t you just kill everyone in the Cave. You managed to get Batman in the leg after all.”

“You’re just defending Bruce like the good little soldier you are,” Jason scoffed.

“Hardly. There’s nothing to defend. You were the one who attacked him tonight without any warning.”

“You know nothing about me,” Jason snarled, stalking towards him.

Tim knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he didn’t really care. Not anymore. Not when this was the person his soulmate had became.

“Is that so? Then I guess you know it all too well. Isn’t that right, Jason Todd?”

If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

#write 365 #jaytim #molim writes

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bigfan-fanfic · 6 years ago

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Coulrophobia (Joker!Reader x Batman Headcanon)

Requested by Anonymous for a Batdad!Reader who fell into the chemical bath in an accident during a Two Face robbery where the reader was taken hostage. Batman takes them to the cave to heal them and instead of becoming a criminal he joins with Batman to fight crime using the same humor and arsenal that the Joker does.

Wow, it is hard to find a positive GIF having to do with clowns. Lots of Pennywise - I’ll probably have nightmares for weeks!

I did it a little differently than maybe you were looking for - I hope you like it anyway, anon!

Just letting you all know - this is a long one!

It wasn’t a planned thing

What crazy person would’ve planned this?

Two-Face holding you hostage, having taken you all the way to some derelict Ace Chemicals disposal facility.

There’s a gun against your head, about a thousand of his goons between you and the door, and you are absolutely terrified.

You’re just a bank teller who tries stand-up on the weekends. All you want is to go home.

But Two-Face only laughs.

“Tell you what: we’ll flip a coin.”

He shows the corroded side of his double-headed coin. “Acid, we kill ya.”

Then the untarnished side. “Pure, we let ya live ‘til the Bat comes.”

And he flips it.

And a batarang zips out of nowhere, hitting him in the face.

Two-Face reels back and lashes out, shoving you right off the catwalk.

There’s no way for the Bat to reach you in time, and you fall right into a vat of chemicals that aren’t likely to have health benefits.

Bruce feels responsible, and can’t bear to leave you to the hospitals. He brings you to the Batcave, where it’s possible Alfred can synthesize an antidote to whatever chemical poisons you may have ingested.

“I’m afraid it’s too late, sir. He will not die, but whatever symptoms he may have will likely be permanent.”

Bruce is there when you wake up.

“I’m so, so, sorry...” he tells you.

“Sorry for what? I feel fine.” You say. And then you find a mirror.

Your hair and skin has been bleached of all color.

Your lips stand out because they seem extra full of blood.

“Oh my God, I’m a clown!”

Bruce looks at you with sorrow, and you can’t help but laugh.

He looks shocked, and a little bit fearful.

“I don’t blame you.” you tell him, still giggling. “I blame that wackjob coin-nut.”

You blush. “Wow, you’re very pretty under the mask.”

He can’t bring himself to refuse you.

You stay in the Batcave, everyone outside assuming that you died horribly, your body dissolved by chemicals.

Alfred doesn’t know quite what to make of you. It’s clear that the chemicals fried your brain a little bit, but around Bruce you seem to be almost normal.

You like the old butler, and you constantly send a barrage of puns his way to cheer him up.

You’re super clingy towards Bruce, and since you no longer have the concept of personal space, you hug him a lot.

At first, Bruce allows this because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. He’s not quite sure when he started to enjoy it.

You’ve always liked clowns, they way they bring joy to others no matter how they themselves feel. And they’ve gotten a bad rap from horror movie lately. And suddenly you are struck by an idea.

“Brucie?” you ask one evening after he’s returned from patrol. You’re hanging on his back like a koala, enjoying the feel of his back muscles on your face.

“Hmm, Y/N?” Bruce asks complacently. He’s testing some chemical something-or-other. He no longer bats an eye (no pun intended) at your antics.

“Whaddaya think about joining up?”

“What do you mean?”

You launch into some ridiculous faux-karate moves. “I mean, - HYA - me joining you to fight -HAchaCHa - crime! As partners!”

He laughs. “Do you think you can handle that?

You’re the only one who can make the Bat laugh. It’s quite a thrill the first time he laughs at your jokes. You’re almost obsessed with getting him to laugh.

But he allows you to brainstorm gadgets and gizmos and tactics. It’s a nice exercise.

And finally, you’re ready. And Batman goes on patrol with a new ally: the Joker.

You’re dressed in a pinstriped purple-and-black suit with a bright yellow flower in the lapel. Along, of course, with a domino mask provided by Bruce. And your unpredictability in combat gives you the drop on many foes.

The seltzer you spray from you flower is laced with a chemical that causes a mild allergic reaction in most people, giving them severe itchy rashes that distract and can even incapacitate.

Instead of batarangs, you carry metal-tipped playing cards.

You have smoke bombs, but unlike Bruce’s, yours have confetti.

And of course, your main weapons are your joy buzzers, which Bruce has upgraded to give shocks like Tasers.

You and the Bat work surprisingly well together, often using you as a flamboyant distraction for the henchmen while Bruce sneaks in to get the boss.

And plus, the two of you fit the same “fear” motif. Because what’s just as scary as a hulking bat-like figure that shows up from the shadows and attacks? A scary clown that walks up to you with no regard for his own safety and shocks you so much that you can’t move or control your bodily functions.

While the Bat deters criminals through fear, you do it through humiliation.

A crime boss doesn’t look so tough when you cut his belt and show off his heart-patterned boxers. And everyone looks silly when Tased.

So the Bat and the Joker have defended Gotham for a while.

You don’t even mind not getting to go outside during the day. Bruce has allowed you the run of Wayne Manor.

And one day, Bruce brings home a sad little boy who lost his parents.

He’s a little scared of you when he first meets you.

You sit across from him. He keeps sneaking looks at you. You slowly move your hands to your face and pretend to “pull” your face into a funny one. Dick starts to giggle. He can’t help it.

Bruce sees how good you are with Dick and something in his heart feels...something for you.

When Dick becomes Robin, he feels more free to use his circus moves around you.

Such as swinging you across a field of combat like the trapeze and throwing you so that you pratfall across a group of goons.

You are protective of Robin, and that just makes Bruce’s feelings grow.

And one day, he comes to you in the Batcave, where you are sending Dick into paroxysms of laughter by giving him a private comedy show. You haven’t had an audience in so long, it seems.

And Bruce asks to speak to you.

When you are alone, he’s not sure what he wants to say, so he just holds out his arms.

He’s never initiated contact before. You launch into his arms, and enjoy him holding you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Y/N... I wanted to tell you...”

You giggle a little bit at how nervous he seems. “What’s that, Brucie?”

“You make me... you make me laugh. You make me happy in a way I haven’t been since my parents died. And, if you’re willing... I’d like to try and make you happy, too.”

You move back in exaggerated shock. “There must be something wrong with my hearing.” You pretend to reach inside your ear and produce a handful of flowers, as if they came from inside your ear. You offer them to Bruce. “Now, tell me again what’cha mean.”

He takes the flowers and sniffs them, pretending to recoil since they’re from your ear. “I mean, Y/N, I think I’m falling for you.”

You shake your head and turn before mock-fainting right into his arms. “I think I’m the one falling.”

And he leans down and kisses you.

#male reader #batman x male reader #batfamily x male reader #batman headcanons #dc headcanons #headcanons

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 5 years ago

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Fates Be Damned - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Selina Kyle Summary: Batman Incorporated was waging war against Leviathan. But Dick would be damned if he let Damian become a casualty to this fight. A/N: A fix it for Batman Inc. 4 from like five years ago!!! Because I’m clearly up with the times. Bruce’s starting dialogue is from that issue. I don’t want to call this a hurt/comfort fic, because it’s not a happy ending for everyone, and I’d be interested in anyone thoughts on the ending I chose because it’s not a ‘everything tied up neatly’ kind of ending like I tend to do. Anyways, this all happens over a year as hinted at. Alfred was away in the last part, and he is still in constant contact with Dick and Damian. Dick and Damian keep up their training, though really do enjoy not being vigilantes. No, Damian does not take Dick’s last name. Batcow and Goliath, of course, come with them to live in the ‘burbs, and the family visits often. Bruce does too, eventually.

It felt like someone shocked him. Or maybe slapped him, or just said the sky is falling.

Because this…this wasn’t happening, right?

He looked to his brothers, to Tim and Jason, and saw his own near-revulsion mirrored on their own faces.

So it wasn’t a dream. Or a miscommunication.

Here they were, in the middle of a goddamn war, all hands on deck. And Bruce just told one of their ranks, just told Damian – little, mostly innocent, eleven-year-old Damian – that he had to leave the life he chose, the life he loved, and go back to his mother, the one who hurt him more than anyone in the world.

And Damian’s face is wrecked. Dick had never seen this child cry, but here, there were tears in his eyes, and terror in his voice, as he tried to reason with Bruce, explain how much he gave up, how much he did. Just to belong, just to be loved by his old man.

How much he didn’t want to go.

But Bruce… Jesus Christ, Bruce just shook his head.

“If you don’t, Gotham, the world, will be plunged into chaos. And you, Damian…” Bruce sighed, like he was disappointed. “You’re going to be responsible…”

It was out of his mouth before he thought about it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dick snapped. Damian jumped in surprise, and Bruce turned so quick he may have given himself some sort of whiplash.

But any surprise Batman had immediately disappeared. “Excuse me?”

“He’s eleven, Bruce.” Dick hissed, balling his hands into fists. Damian had looked away now, stepped forward and grabbed Bruce’s cape to regain his attention, plead his case. “He’s eleven years old, your fucking son, and not only are you blaming him for this mess, you’re going to force him to go back to Talia?”

Bruce’s shoulders slumped. “Dick, you don’t understand…”

“The woman who put him through hell for most of his life?” Dick’s fury rose with every word, and he could feel his muscles start to shake with adrenaline. “The woman who put a fucking hit out on him, and you’re going to send him back to her?!”

“Dick…”

“No. No.” Dick started shaking his head. In his periphery he could see Tim and Jason glancing at each other, Damian still trying to take back Bruce’s attention. “You know what? No, I’m done. Because I let you take him back, I let you break up our partnership and regain guardianship even though I knew, deep down, it was a terrible idea, for both him and you. I let you uproot him and isolate him. I even let you abandon him for your rendezvous with Selina, or any time you felt the need to play Brucie Wayne halfway across the world.”

He stepped forward now, his breathing heavy as he got into Bruce’s face.

“But you must think I’m a goddamn idiot if you think I’m going to let you sacrifice him just because you and Talia can’t get along, and got the whole world involved in your stupid spat.” He poked Bruce in the chest now. Over and over, to emphasize his words. “Damian is innocent in this, and for you to have the audacity to blame him…” Dick bit his lip, and shook his head. “The needs of the many don’t outweigh the needs of the few. Not here. Not with your own fucking son, Bruce.”

“Dick, if there was another way you know I’d-”

“I’m done listening. I’m done being your soldier in this. I’m done letting you hurt him, for nothing.” Dick growled. Without waiting for a reply, he shoved past him to where Damian was standing, and scooped the boy up into his arms. “I’m taking him, and we’re going into hiding until this garbage is finished. I’ll help run computers with Oracle, and ping the communicators when I’m online.”

“Dick…!”

“I’m disappointed, Bruce.” Dick glanced back, just once, holding the back of Damian’s head. “You’ve made better plans in worse situations. And the one you settled on here, to save the day, was to sell your son back to the demon?” He narrowed his eyes. “Shame on you.”

Damian didn’t argue as Dick moved towards the door. Just wrapped his arms and legs as tightly around Dick as he dared. His breaths were shallow and hiccupped, and Dick could feel the tears splashing away from his cheeks.

“G-G-Grayson.” He murmured.

“I know.” He whispered, kissing Damian’s head. He couldn’t tell him it was okay. Because it was a lie, and Dick couldn’t do that to him. Not right now. “But I’ve got you.”

Damian dug his traumatized, trembling fingers into Dick’s neck.

“I’ve got you now, kiddo.”

Dick had been right, in the end. Bruce did come up with a better solution.

The world was saved. Talia and her army were dealt with. Blah, blah, blah.

That’d been about a month and a half ago, and it was still Dick’s kitchen table in a tiny rented house away from any city that Damian sat at every morning to eat his breakfast.

Bruce had called a week after the battle ended. Told Dick about the final fight between him and his once-lover, the injuries sustained. How everyone, from family to communities, were coping with the aftermath.

Dick listened politely, waiting for the real reason for the call.

“So…yeah. Everything has been settled. Talia won’t be bothering us again for a long time.” Bruce huffed, trying to be nonchalant. “You can…bring Damian home whenever it’s convenient for you.”

Bruce couldn’t see it, but Dick smiled. A sneering, cold, angry smile. “Who said I was bringing him home at all?”

And then he hung up.

Damian had been in the room during the call, drawing in the corner and taking pictures on his phone of his dozing pets. He’d heard everything Bruce said, just as he heard everything Dick said.

So when Dick tossed his phone on the table and looked up, it was no surprise that Damian was staring at him.

“What?”

“You…” Damian tilted his head thoughtfully. “You’re not making me go back to Father?”

Dick blinked as he leaned back in his chair. “Do you want to?”

Damian’s eyes lowered, his lips twisted in thought.

“…No.” He decided, looking back to his art. “I…after what happened, I…don’t think I’m ready to see Father yet.”

“Okay.” Dick smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

Dick turned on the TV. Damian went back to drawing.

It was no surprise when the Batman showed up at his door in the middle of the night.

“Took you long enough.” Dick muttered dryly when he answered the door with crossed arms. Stephanie, Batgirl, stood sheepishly behind him, clearly not wanting to be there as his partner.

“I need to see him.” Bruce growled.

“Well, he’s sleeping.” Dick smirked. “So how about you call again in the morning and make an appointment.”

“He’s my son, Dick.”

“Yeah, well.” Dick shrugged. “Maybe not anymore.”

And Dick knew Bruce well enough to see the hit that was coming, and block it.

“Oh, going to break into my house and beat me up?” Dick laughed, even as Stephanie tried to get between them. “Where was all this concern during you and Talia’s little tiff, hm?”

Before the fight could continue, there was a harsh whisper from further into the house. “Oh, will you two knock it off?”

Bruce hesitated, and glanced over Dick’s shoulder to find Tim standing at the mouth of another hallway. “If you two wake him up, I’m kicking you both out. He has a test in the morning and needs his rest.”

Bruce blinked, allowing Stephanie to push him away from Dick. “Test?” He looked at his eldest. “He’s in school?”

“Well he’s not getting private lessons from Alfred anymore, so I enrolled him here.” Dick pretended to dust dirt from his shoulders. “He’s still struggling with being a child genius and making friends, so Tim comes by and helps tutor him sometimes, since he knows what that’s like.”

“…This wasn’t a permanent move, Dick. For either of you.” Bruce scolded.

“Yeah, well. Maybe I decided it should be.” Dick spat. “He doesn’t need to be Robin, he doesn’t need to be out there on the streets like that anymore. And…maybe I don’t either. Haven’t thought about Nightwing once since we moved to the suburbs, if I’m honest.”

“Domesticated? You?” Steph snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s wild, Steph.” Tim called from behind him.

Dick shot her a warm grin, but Bruce cut their own small moment off. “I want to speak to my son.”

“Well, A, I’m also your son and you’re speaking to me, so. You already have.” Dick mocked. “And B, you’ll talk to him when I say you can. Which is not right now.”

Bruce tried one of his tactics, pushed into Dick’s space and glared down at him. “He’s not your son, Dick.”

Dick shrugged, keeping his sneer. “Maybe he actually is.”

Dick smoothly backed away. “You’re welcome to a drink, snack or nap while you’re here. And if you don’t want any of those, then you can just get the fuck out, I guess.”

“Dick…” Tim sighed as Dick stood next to him.

Dick smiled. “You play host, Timmy. I’m beat. Mind if I hit the hay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just disappeared down the hall behind Tim.

Later, after he’d entertained Bruce and Stephanie, and gave them a little more insight into Dick and Damian’s new life – Dick’s job at a youth center, teaching each other how to cook, Damian’s friends – Tim checked on Dick before heading to the guest bedroom himself.

Dick wasn’t in his own room, and that didn’t surprise Tim at all. He sighed, turned to Damian’s room, and found Dick in there, all but octopus-wrapped around Damian.

Tim frowned at the escrima stick his sleeping older brother still held at the ready, though.

It was never stated out loud, or made official.

Damian lived with Dick now. Permanently.

It was one of those things that everyone knew, but no one talked about, at least, not in front of those involved.

Dick’s friends quietly texted each other about it. The Justice League murmured amongst themselves when Bruce wasn’t on the satellite. The rest of the Batfamily did what they could to just bridge the gap.

Bruce was more closed off than normal, and he talked about his eldest and youngest less and less. Even their codenames of Nightwing and Robin were like forbidden words.

There were cases with their uniforms in the cave now. And Batman’s other partners found him staring at them often.

Dick and Damian didn’t patrol anymore, and Robin and Nightwing hadn’t been seen since the War of Gotham, and the fight against Leviathan.

Most people thought they were dead. No one corrected them.

But Dick and Damian seemed to have traded their gauntlets for gardens. They walked the dog around the neighborhood every night. They meal-prepped, had movie nights, attended the local neighborhood block party.

To their neighbors, it was a single young father and his son. Just some normal folks with their not-quite-normal pets, trying to get away from the city life, and the darkness of Gotham. The father was charismatic and handsome. His son a bit aloof, but polite when approached.

They didn’t talk about their past. Didn’t talk about things like the boy’s mother, or any other family. They came from Gotham, that’s all anyone in town knew.

And they were happy, that’s all anyone in town knew, too.

Jason watched him for a few moments, slowly taking a gulp of his beer. Then, he slowly lowered his bottle and smacked his lips thoughtfully.

“You’re too giddy about this.”

Dick looked up from Damian, who was sleeping against his side. The child had fallen asleep after the three had had dinner, and continued to curl into Dick’s side in his slumber as the sun lowered behind the horizon.

“Too giddy about what?”

Jason motioned to Damian. “Being his dad.”

Dick blinked, and then fell into a huffed laugh. “I’m not his dad.”

“I bet he’d beg to differ.” Jason murmured. Paused to look at Damian himself. His chubby cheeks and long lashes. How small he was. “…If you didn’t want to give him back to Bruce in the first place, why did you?”

“I thought it was best for him. He’d always wanted to be with Bruce. It wasn’t my place to keep him from that.” Dick hummed, glancing back down to Damian himself, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

“Could have just asked him.”

“I also didn’t think I was ready to be a dad. It was a lot, that time Bruce was gone. Being Batman, raising him…” Dick shrugged. “I wasn’t doing that great of a job, despite what you all apparently think. And he deserved better.”

“And now after everything that’s happened, do you regret what you did?” Jason asked. “If you could go back, would you have kept him with you instead?”

“…I don’t know.” Dick sighed. “Maybe. If I knew Bruce was going to be this much of a prick, then yes. I would have kept him as far away from Bruce as humanly possible.”

“Well, better late than never on that last bit, right?” Jason snorted. He let the laugh die off as he took another drink of his beer. “You ever going to speak to him again?”

“I speak to him now, Jay, you know that. Just not…you know, frequently.” Dick defended. “But I know you mean in regards to Damian, and…no. I want to talk to Damian about it first, but I don’t think he’s ready.”

“Dick, it’s been months.”

“Yeah, and Bruce was trying to give him away forever.” Dick nearly spat. A sore spot still, Jason assumed. Though he wondered if it was a worse sore spot for Dick or Damian. “It’s…a lot to deal with. You were there, you saw how Damian reacted.”

“Yeah, he cried. Never seen that before.” Jason admitted. “Has he talked about Bruce at all?”

“In passing, and…coldly. Very detached.” Dick’s brows furrowed. “Doesn’t call him Father anymore. Just Bruce. Sometimes even Mr. Wayne.”

“Harsh. Does Bruce know that?” Jason asked.

“Tim knows, and I’m betting he’s mentioned it to him.” Dick explained. “But, I digress. It’s not something I want to push him on. I just…want to be here for him instead. In the interim, whenever he’s ready. Stuff like that.”

“AKA…like a dad.” Jason smirked.

“Shut it.” Dick laughed. “…What’s your thoughts on all this?”

Jason took another drink from his bottle, picked up his phone and read a quick text message. “I think Bruce was a piece of shit, deciding that was the only option for ending that stupid battle.” He placed his phone back down. “And I think you did the right thing by getting Damian out and as far away as possible.”

“Think I should have kept him?”

Jason thought a moment more. “…Yes.” A quick sniff. “And I think you should have gotten him out of the life. You getting out too was just a bonus, I think.”

Dick smiled warmly. “Thanks, Jay.” He inhaled. “I thought I’d miss it more, being Nightwing and all that, but.” He looked down at Damian, ran his hand up and down Damian’s arm. Damian just burrowed deeper into his side. “I don’t.”

“They say having kids changes you.” Jason reminded. “And this time around, you aren’t trying to juggle seven hundred different things. And you’re not grieving.”

“True.” Dick mumbled, staring down at the boy in his arms. “…I hate Bruce for what he tried to do.”

“We all do, I think.” Jason offered. “Damian’s a shitball, but…he didn’t deserve that.”

“Do you think Bruce understands that yet?” Dick asked.

“…I don’t know.” Jason admitted. “It’s hard to tell with him.”

Dick nodded, then slowly leaned his head against Damian’s, looking at Jason with a soft smile.

“Thanks for stopping by, Jay.” Dick hummed. “I really love when you do.” Then a laugh. “And Damian will never admit it, but he does too.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s what’s family is for, and all that shit.”

Dick laughed and closed his eyes. Jason just took another drink.

“…Do you blame me?” Bruce, not Batman, asked, though his cape waved softly behind him. Cassandra and Tim glanced at each other, then to Bruce’s back, as he did not face them. Selina tilted her head. “Do you hate me?”

“Hate, no.” Selina hummed. “But blame? Well, Bat. What you almost did was terrible. Would you blame us if we did?”

“It was…” Bruce looked down at the streets below them. “I didn’t think I had another choice.”

“But in the end, you did.” Selina reminded. She looked at the younger two heroes, gave them an encouraging smile. They didn’t return it. “You found another solution that didn’t threaten your child’s life.”

“It was…” Cassandra offered. “A…poor choice.”

“And the only reason we don’t hate you is because Dick stepped in and stopped it from happening.” Tim added. “He saved Damian…and if he hadn’t gotten in your way, this conversation would be going very differently.”

Bruce closed his eyes, swayed slightly in the wind. “Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry?”

“We’re not the ones you should be apologizing to.” Selina sighed. “You know that, Bat.”

Bruce didn’t open his eyes. “…Do you think he’s happy?”

“I know he is.” Tim almost hissed. It was harsh and angry, but controlled, contained. Businesslike, and so very Tim. “He’s probably happier than he’s ever been, which is funny to say since you broke his heart and he’s still trying to put those pieces back together.”

“And better,” Cassandra cut in. “He is…safe.”

“And alive.” Selina continued.

No one spoke after that, for just a moment. Let those words – happy, safe, alive – linger between them, and float through the air into the Gotham night.

“…I miss him. I miss him and Dick both.” Bruce whispered. “Am I allowed to?”

Selina walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re allowed to have emotions, Bruce.” A smirk, just for him. “In fact, we’re all pretty sure a lack of emotions is what got you here in the first place.”

Bruce tried to smile back to her. It didn’t feel right.

“…But to answer your question.” Tim exhaled, like he was exhausted. “No, we don’t hate you. We’re mad-”

“Pissed.” Cassandra interjected.

“-but would we be standing here if we hated you?”

It’d been ten months.

Ten months of Damian living with him, away from Bruce – and they hadn’t talked about it. Not once. Not even a mention, or a second.

It made him anxious, worrying about what might be clouding Damian’s brain, but it also made him happy. Because Damian seemed freer here, outside of Gotham, away from the costumes.

Away from his father.

He smiled so much out now. Laughed out loud, let himself feel.

And as much as he knew they needed to talk about it, Dick just didn’t want to wreck that.

But still – the tension of the topic was palpable. And Dick didn’t want that to get worse.

So it wasn’t his plan to talk about it right now, as they lay in the backyard, resting against Batcow, gazing at the stars above them.

But as he watched Damian pointing constellations out to his dog between them, the words just slipped out.

“I’m sorry.”

Damian looked up at him, confused. “For?”

Dick just kept staring at his charge, his voice quiet. Mournful. “For what Bruce did to you.”

Damian’s creased brows smoothed. He glanced down, reaching out to pet Titus’ head, and shrugged.

“I wish it didn’t. I wish I could have stopped him before he ever said anything.” Dick whispered. “I wish I didn’t have to take you away.”

“But I’m glad you did.” Damian interjected immediately, eyes fierce when he met Dick’s eyes once more. “Who knows where I would be right now if you hadn’t.”

Dick tried to give a little smile at that.

“…How are you feeling, though? Are you doing okay?” Dick asked. “Are you…happy?”

Damian leaned back, stared thoughtfully up at the stars.

Then smiled.

“Happier than I’ve been in a long time.” Damian decided. “A very long time.”

Dick allowed himself his own grin then, then shifted to pull Damian into his side and kiss his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dick murmured into his hair. Damian merely shrugged again. “…Well, if you ever do, I’m here, okay?”

Damian looked up at him. His face was open and his smile was bright.

“I know you are.”

The manor was quiet, that was the first thing Damian noticed as he stepped in the front door. Quiet and dusty.

He didn’t take off his shoes, didn’t plan to be here long, just looked around as he made his way towards his father’s study.

The house was so empty, he could hear the scratch of a pen from down the hall. When he reached the door, the noise was almost deafening.

He stood there, though, for just a moment. Collected himself, inhaled. Then pushed the door open.

Bruce was at his desk, proofreading some sort of document for Wayne Enterprises. There was the shadow of a beard around his face, and his hair was messy. He looked tired, but not Batman tired.

Old man tired.

He looked up at the movement of the door, and his eyes widened as he registered who it was. He learned back in his chair, braced the armrests like he was about to stand, but Damian held up his hand to wave him off.

“I’m not staying.” He said quickly. “Just…wanted to stop by.”

“…What are you doing here?” Bruce asked quietly. “In Gotham, I mean.”

“Grayson is having lunch with Gordon.” Damian hummed. “I asked to tag along, said I wanted to see a friend too.”

“…He doesn’t know you’re here.” Bruce concluded.

“No. But I will tell him later, when we’re finished.” Damian nodded. He hesitated for a moment, looked around the room, at the art and style. He didn’t feel any sense of nostalgia, though. Didn’t miss this place at all.

He sighed, and looked back at Bruce.

“…Father.” The word sounded strange, he hadn’t said it in so long. “I know we haven’t talked or seen each other since…since that day.” Damian started. He could see the pain in Bruce’s eyes immediately. The guilt. The regret. “Both through my own choices and Grayson’s interventions.”

Bruce waited, looked like he was holding his breath.

“But I just want you to know that I forgive you.” Damian said plainly. “I forgive you for what happened.”

Bruce watched for a moment, then slumped. “You don’t have to.” He whispered. “I know I don’t deserve it.”

“Debatable.” Damian shrugged. “But that doesn’t change anything, not from my perspective. I forgive you.”

Bruce looked down.

“So don’t…feel guilty. It’s okay.” Damian offered. “I...want you to be happy.”

“I’ll be happy when you come home.” Bruce admitted, not looking up. “…I miss you.”

Damian didn’t seem to expect that response. Blinked in surprise, then looked guilty himself.

“I feel that I am home.” Damian murmured. “With Grayson.”

Bruce closed his eyes.

“And I apologize for that, I know it’s not something you wanted to hear.” Damian sighed. “But…I’m happy to extend an invitation to you. To visit whenever you like.”

Bruce didn’t open his eyes. “Dick won’t like that.”

“I’ll get him to come around.” Damian paused then. “He won’t say it, but he forgives you too, or at least is in the process of it. He was only upset because your decision was not what he felt was best for me, and that’s all he wants.”

Bruce did look up at that.

“He just wants what’s best for me. And I’ve found that the life we’ve adopted since we left is that.”

“That’s…good.” Bruce forced himself to admit. “I’m glad. For you and Dick both.”

“Thank you.” Another hesitation. “And thank you for everything you’ve given me thus far. I appreciate it more than I can ever say, even with our last meeting what it was.”

Bruce flashed a grim smile. Thank you for introducing me to Dick, is what Damian wouldn’t say.

“…But I better get going. Like I said, I can’t stay. And I actually do have a friend I’d like to visit.” Damian ended. “…It’s good to see you…Father.”

“You as well, Damian.” Bruce stood. “Thank Dick for me. For protecting you when I should have.”

“I will.” Damian promised. Stopped again, like he didn’t know what to do next, then merely gave a quick wave. “Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodbye, Damian.”

Damian nodded, and disappeared back into the hall. Bruce didn’t follow.

Just sat back down, and hid his face in his hands as he heard the front door close.

#Damian Wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson

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